He's Nothing Like Me ... And That Is a Good Thing

This is what I discovered when I opened the dryer this evening:


Just at first glance, I would say that there are four different sorting categories in that there load of laundry.

A little background on the day:

So, at 8AM this morning, I get an email from God. Well, it isn't really from God, but it did provide the answer to a question that I didn't even know that I had.

As you know from my previous posts this month, we have been a sick bunch 'round here. Started with Riley getting a cold two weeks ago. Followed by Victoria a week later. Then me two days later. Sore throat, runny nose, body aches, head ache, etc. Your run-of-the-mill cold ... or so I thought.

Then Riley got this rash everywhere ... and I mean everywhere. And this horrible looking sore on his precious little nose. Then my sore throat was just not going away. I told Carey that I wish this darn cold would just run its course and be over. Miss Victoria's appetite still had not returned and she was not drinking like she usually does.

Anyone seeing the probably diagnosis here? Sore throat, rash, loss of appetite, headache. Well, I didn't.

I consider myself a fairly intelligent person ... or at least a good study. I excelled in grade school and college. Managed to do well in my 10 year career as a CPA. Climbed the CPA ladder quite nicely. I retain most information that manages to squeeze its way into my already packed brain. Any wisdom or insight I possess I totally recognize comes from God. I know this because I pray for it. And He delivers. But on this occasion, I guess I just wasn't gettin' it. So, He sent me an email.

Well, M sent me an email. M is mom of Riley's best bud at school. We have been emailing back and forth this past month regarding all things PTA carnival. This particular email had a variety of things involving sing-ups and time frames and blah-blahs. She also filled me in on what they were currently experiencing at their home.

Strep.

Then the Lord flipped on the light switch. (Hallelujah chorus begins to play in the background as I stand at my computer reading the email). Of course ... we all have strep.

Within the hour, literally, I am at the doctor's office getting my positive strep test result. Two hours later, the kids and I are at their doctor's office getting their positive strep test results. And by 2PM we are all being treated with the lovely amoxicillin.

So my prayer of thanksgiving to God went something like this:

Dear Lord,

Thanks for the email.
Thank you for amoxicillin.

Amen.

Eventually I will get to the laundry picture at the beginning of the post. Just hang in there with me.

So, my 30 something year old, childless, Harvard Medical School graduate doctor tells me the number one thing I need to do in order to treat strep, besides take the drugs, is rest. Rest? Sure, bring it on. When does the nanny, cook and maid show up. Can you write me a prescription for some of those? This is after she asked me if I was able to function daily or had I just been in bed all day.

In bed all day ... in that split second before I answered her question, I savored the thought of it. Then the scene in my head went all wavy and a flashback appeared. It was 1BC (one year before children) and I was in my mid 20s. I was sick and in bed ... all day. I did nothing. I prepared no meals. I cleaned up no messes. I was not concerned for the needs or desires or wants of anyone except for myself. Carey? He's a big boy. He can take care of himself. Leave me alone. I am sick. I will come out of my room when I feel better.

Back to reality.

"No, Dr. Jones I haven't been doing much. Just taking care of two kids as best as I can."

Of which I am so honored to do. Like I tell Carey, we can sleep, watch TV and rest all we want when they are in college. Now is not the time for wimps. Now is the time to raise children that will grow to be decent human beings and be able to contribute to this world by being messenger of God's Love.

Anyway, back on topic.

When I get home Carey is there. YAY! He had an early hearing and was at home for the rest of the day. Before I went to pick up Riley at school and then proceed to take him and Victoria to the doctor for their appointment, I tell Carey that I am supposed to get some rest.

So, the laundry.

Carey, in his sweet, caring, loving and servant's heart manner, does some laundry for me while we are out and about doing all things doctor's office, pharmacy, lunch, pharmacy again. Totally without me asking. Isn't that just wonderful? And just when I thought I couldn't love him anymore.

Well, there is a reason why I don't ask him to do the laundry. (see picture at beginning of post). Sorting ... not his strong suit. He just doesn't get it. When I opened the dryer door and saw the results of his "sorting," I well, first grabbed the camera, then told him how much I soooooo appreciated him doing the laundry for me. Then, as politely as possible, trying my BEST to not sound condescending in any way, shape, form or fashion, asked him what sorting technique he used for doing the laundry, of which I was so grateful that he did. His reply:

1. Nice clothes

2. Not-so-nice clothes

Ok. Interesting.

So I guess based upon this, nice clothes are towels, underwear (white and not white), jeans, washcloths, colors, darks. Not-so-nice was everything in the kids hampers.

I guess I have no problem with the two categories, but the application is lacking quite a bit.

Oh well. He is still the greatest. And I love him even more today than yesterday. He made the effort and did it FOR ME in his Carey-like fashion. I wouldn't change a thing about it. He brings such joy to my life. After almost 12 years of marriage, I have learned not to expect Carey to adhere to my neurotic tendencies with regards to housework, taking care of the kids, driving, or anything else for that matter. One of the things I love most about him is that he is nothing like me. That is a good thing.