A never ending battle

Ah, the days when I was expecting my first baby, and I would wash all the little baby clothes, fold them, put them away, and rearrange them in the dresser. Oh, the sweet smell of baby detergent and aren't the clothes just so cute? Even after the arrival of my darling baby, I still loved to fold his clothes, put them away and such. I couldn't wait until I had enough for a load of baby clothes, just so I could fold and put them away. Now, the piles of laundry loom over my head like an ever present curse. The pile of laundry piles up higher and higher, and never seems to lessen, no matter how hard I try. Finally as I put the last load of laundry away I think, "Yes, I am woman, hear me roar, I am winning the war!" But the laundry will have it's day. Oh, damn you fate! as I find my 3-year old peed while napping and soaks her bed, and then the diaper on the baby loses it's battle against breastmilk poop and it spills out on the baby's sleeper and blanket. I then find myself, again, with another load of laundry. Someday, I will be the victor over the war. I will rise above the height of the dirty underwear and sock pile. I will reign supreme in the fight against spaghetti sauce stains. I will fight the good fight for all those out there also waging war against the grass-stained jeans and marker covered sweaters. Join me and together we will be victorious. Excuse me, I think I hear the spin cycle...