Rocks in my washer

When I pictured motherhood, I absolutely did not think of rocks. I knew it involved nasty diapers, nasty tempers and nasty midnight sickness. I expected to be sleep-deprived (and have not been disappointed there!), and to have the emotional ups and downs that come with watching your children experience life. But someone forgot to tell me about the rocks.

Most of my laundry is stone washed - in my automatic washing machine. I can never seem to find the end of the little tiny rocks and pebbles that make their way to the bottom of the wash tub. It started with Daniel. Curse those pockets and rolled up pant legs! Before too long, Nathan joined in the collecting. Now both girls have discovered the hobby and with summer just around the corner, I expect Joseph to make his own contributions.

I can hear the little 'tinks' and 'plings' as the rocks fall out of my reach while I change the washer load to the dryer. I try so hard to get them all, but I often hear the same sounds when I'm taking out the load of my underwear. I know they aren't coming from me!

And if it were only limited to little tiny rocks, it might not be so bad. Candy wrappers, pencil erasers, very clean cereal bits, screws, bolts, small pets (OK...that one isn't true), are common finds in my washer. It's almost a hazardous job to do laundry! My machine is over 15 years old. I don't know if it can take much more abuse.

So let this be a warning to all of you who have yet to enter motherhood. You will have rocks in your washer. And a lot of really great memories, besides.