Once upon a time there was a mom who got fed up with the gross, disgusting, dirty socks that she constantly found around the house. She threw them all away. The end.
SERIOUSLY. Socks: *vomit sound. *eye roll.
It’s interesting to have pretty much grownup kids in this joint and then to go ahead and add a couple of little squirts to the mix and then have to adjust to the backwards direction that life suddenly takes. We had two kiddos who were delving into the first stages of adulthood: driving, graduating, real job stuff, being self-sufficient, picking up after themselves (usually), making their own food, having adult(ish) conversations, watching movies that aren’t G or PG ratings, not having to facilitate friendships for them, entertaining themselves (you know, writing this list is actually a bit therapeutic for me; that’s why it’s so long), figuring out the details on their own…
And then BOOM! Back to 5th and 6th grade… or maybe a little younger because typically, children in foster care are emotionally about half their age.
I remember having sock issues with Jayne and Lincoln. I chronicled an entire sock episode on Instagram about it - still cracks me up to this day to re-read through the posts! And I came out the other side a same mom, mostly. So, now that we’ve gone backwards, we are back to the “stinky socks are everywhere” stage of life again. AND, to top it all off, the socks don’t belong to anyone!! Imagine that. The dirty, crusty socks just magically appear under the couch, stuffed between couch cushions, on the middle of the rug, ANYWHERE but in the laundry basket.
I would be content for the socks to be stuffed back into shoes. Or to even be in the pile of shoes by the door. But if I happen to run into these gross foot vessels in the middle of the rug, I can no longer hold back my UGH!!! And when children are confronted with their sock-neglecting crimes and deny ownership, my frustration is beyond UGH! I used to grab the socks and put them in their beds to be found at a later time. But that was more work for me, going up those blasted stairs. Plus they didn’t really seem to care. So then my husband started throwing them away, but I would just have to purchase more socks to replace the ones that got thrown away.
So a new rule has been established here in the Cragin Household: If you do not claim ownership of the mislaid socks, then both potential criminals must take a sock upstairs, because we can tell which socks belong to which people, except the two youngest who share the same type of socks, which happen to be the socks that appear throughout the house with the most frequency. (I’m pretty sure that they each wear 2 pairs of socks a day and that there is a repellent factor that exists between the socks and the laundry baskets.)
Now, during the writing of this post, I had to take a slight (and by “slight,” I mean approximately 3 hours) break to enjoy a chat with my oldest brother. By the time I came back in the house, there was yet a random sock back on the couch and another in front of the sliding door. Turns out that the 18 year old was tormenting her 15 year old brother by throwing her socks at him. Poetic Irony. I can’t win.
What is God trying to teach me with these stupid socks? Long suffering?! Will it ever end?
I think there are 3 takeaways from this sock episode.
I need to make sure that I continue to use creative parenting ideas - they usually work!
I need to be more grateful that the stinky, dirty, gross socks are really a small mess compared to how big a mess this house COULD be with so many people living here!
I need to purchase a couple of pairs of flip flops for this summer season…
Rejoice always (even about dirty socks), pray continually (that the socks will end up in the laundry basket), give thanks in all circumstances (even when you find socks in the couch cushions); for this is God’s will for you in Christ Jesus.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-17 (additions in parentheses are mine.)
Praising God for dirty socks.
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