A Worthy Companion

Teddy was my world.  I couldn’t live without him.  I couldn’t sleep without him.  I loved him to pieces before I even got out of elementary school.  He had been my sleeping companion from my first Christmas on to an age I won’t disclosed as I’m sure I was too old.  Even though he was a boy teddy bear, I dressed him up for special occasions in the only outfit that would fit him, a white and green checkered dress.  When it was time to go to college, I couldn’t leave him behind.  He stayed on my bed as my companion, some one I cried to when my heart got broken.  So when I had children, I naturally assumed they would have something that they loved like that.

Evan did not.  He could take it or leave it.  He didn’t need anything special.  It wasn’t until recently that a friend of mine brought him a handmade dinosaur from Thailand that Evan started to love a toy constantly.  But a few months later, Evan prefers to have Toothy, but he could live without him.

Sean loves his Blanky.  It’s one of those super soft baby blankets lined with satin.  It’s blue with one color embroidered with “Thank Heaven for Little Boys.”  It was originally Evan’s, which I took every time we flew, matching the ultra-blue outfit that just screamed boy because I always worried about having to prove he was a boy to match his ticket.  (Weird, I know, but all babies look uni-sex.  Yeah, I know.  But after they stopped and searched me when I was six months pregnant, I wasn’t taking any chances.)  Sean loves his blanket to pieces.

Blanky is now Sean’s constant companion.  If, for some chance, he forgets it or picked up without it, he cries, “Blah, Blah” as he reaches towards it.  He’ll put it down to play games he needs both hands for, but usually he has to have it, at meals, at stores, at the park.  The problem is he drags it behind him as it collects dust.  To make matters more complicated, poor Sean has allergies, making it very important to have a clean Blanky.  I haven’t mentioned how he had to have it at dinner that was topped off with chocolate ice cream.

So what’s a poor mother to do?   

Break her baby’s heart every time the leave the house?  Or wash the blanket two to three times a week?  People, I’m running out of clothes to wash with it.  Oh, well, I’ll just stock up on the best stain remover and start scouring the internet for a replacement, just in case.

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Laundry and the Blankie

So yesterday I finally decided I’d trick Sean from his blankie.  Sean has fallen in love with this ultra-soft baby blanket with the words “Thank God for Little Boys” embroidered in the cornor, which used to be Evan’s (I bought it for plane trips, dressing Evan in as much identifying blue and mommy’s boy stuff; I was paranoid).  Sean has been sleeping with his blankie for several months and recently has been carrying it around the house.  Now it had started having black and grey poke-a-dots.  When he dropped the blanket to grab the remote (I am obviously raising men), I grabbed the blanket, realizing it’s been a while since I washed his sheets.

 

As I examined his sheets, it dawned on me that I didn’t remember when the last time I washed his sheets.  The set that was being used had a busy print of white stars on a blue back ground, perfect for a new baby because it hid all stains.  I’m sure you remember how the light colored sheets were dirty in a blink of an eye.  I’m really horrible about remembering to wash sheets for some reason.  In my single girl stage, I washed them every two weeks with the rest of my laundry; now I have to write “wash sheets” on the calendar or I’d forget.

 

As Sean flipped through the channels, I heavily doused the blankie and the other laundry with stain remover and threw them into the washing machine on the maximum heavy-soiled, delicate cycle.  By this time, Sean knew something was up and came to investigate.

 

“Blankie?”

 

What?  Did he actually say blankie?  No, baby, Mommy’s washing it.  Let’s go play with trucks.  Hoping he’d follow, I left the laundry room, heading for the toys.  I turned around to show Sean a truck when I saw him leaving the laundry room, holding a large dust bunny from the dryer trap that I had thrown away the night before.  Gross.  Sean rubbed it on his face.  Double gross.  I quickly grabbed is soft teddy bear and showed it to Sean.  He immediately dropped the dust bunny and grabbed the bear.  I swooped in, grabbed the dust bunny, and disposed of it.

 

As I emptied the clothes from the washer to the dryer, Evan came up behind me, carrying the basket I throw the dirty kitchen towels.

 

“Excuse me, Mommy, I have to do laundry now!”

 

He nudged me out of the way and began putting the towels into the washing machine, and Sean appeared to help his brother.  I was a little surprised and a bit amused.  I do most of the laundry at night because I tend to forget to get wet, clean clothes out of the dryer if I don’t do it right away.  As you can imagine, California heat and damp clothes in an air tight container is not the best circumstance; hence, I wash the clothes at night and drop them into the dryer the next morning.

 

Evan looked up and smiled.  “All done, Mommy.  Seanny, shut the door.”  Sean shut the washing machine door, and the boys went off the play.  I shrugged, threw in more dirty towels, set the machine, and followed them to play.  If you can’t beat them, join them.

 

And yes, as soon as the dryer was done, I pulled out Sean’s blankie and handed it to him.  He hugged it like he hadn’t seen it in months; then he gave me a suspicious look and kept it near him the rest of the day.  I promise, kid, I won’t take it away again until it turns grey.