I admit. I could never remember the last time I washed the sheets on my own bed, let alone my kids’ four sets of bunk beds. Until I would walk into one of their rooms only to have my nostrils assaulted by the sickly sweet smell of little girl sweat mingled with “Berry Beautiful” lotion, or the funky “I slept in my soccer uniform after my game” mingled with stinky mud and dead worms smell of the boys’ room.
So I came up with a system to make sure everyone’s sheets get washed. Every week. And I made myself promise that I’d stick to it. Every week.
We use alliteration for the kids to help remember fun treats like “Fruit snack Friday” or “Sugar cereal Saturday”.
So I made up a moniker of my own to help me remember to wash our sheets every week. I have dubbed it, “Fresh Sheets Friday”.
Having a “fun” name for it doesn’t make it any more fun. But it DOES hold me accountable every week. And since throwing it out on Twitter and Facebook, I have plenty of friends and even strangers who are also “Fresh sheet Fridaying” with me every week.
When I’m stub my toe trying to stand on the end of the bottom bunk in order to strip the top one, I think about those of you out there who might be struggling through the exact same routine. And the camaraderie fuels me to keep tugging.
When I knock myself nearly unconscious while attempting to maneuver around the ladder but under the top bunk to get the comforter tucked in and think “I might be getting too old for undoing and re-making these bunk beds every week“, I remember that I have stalwart sheet sisters making the same Twister-esque moves to get their kids’ corners covered too.
When I’m on top of the top bunk trying to jump up while lifting the mattress and get the last corner secured without pinching my fingers, am dripping sweat onto the freshly-laundered cotton beneath me and thinking the Biggest Loser show ought to include an entire campground of bunk bed undressing, laundering, and re-making as one of its physical weight-loss challenges, I stay the course knowing that this is me saying “I love you enough not to let you slumber in the stench of your own body”.
When I stand next to my queen sized bed wishing my husband and a team of perky house staff were there to help me sing, dance, and toss pillows while plie-ing to “I Think I’m Gonna Like it Here” like they did in Annie, I sigh and tackle the task on my own knowing how much he’ll appreciate not having to be a part of that production prior to his head hitting the (freshly laundered) pillow at the end of his workweek.
And even if my picture never gets on the side of the Tide box as a revolutionary game changer of modern-day huswifery, every Friday I will wash our sheets. And I’ll proclaim it to the world and remind all of you to do the same.
Ah, Fresh Sheets Friday…we meet again. Now who’s with me?