This is getting harder.
And I totally caved.  After a couple of days of utter sweet behavior, my man kept smiling at me, almost mocking me.  He knew something was up and actually point blank asked me if I was doing the love dare on him.  Good that I’m covert, right?
DAY 2: Love is Kind
“Let’s break kindness into four basic core ingredients: Gentleness (never being unnecessarily harsh), Helpfulness (meet the needs of the moment: laundry, listening, etc.), Willingness (inspires you to be agreeable, stay flexible), and Initiative (kindness thinks ahead, then takes the first step, greets first, smiles first…).”
Today was a challenge for me.  Not the actual dare, just the day.  Little sleep had finally caught up with me and crabby is not the word one would use to describe me.  It took me until at least 1 pm to wake up and get on with my day.  I can’t say that I was totally positive….a few corrections might have slipped out when the kids were waking before 5, but I did my best and did some praying to take myself further than I thought I could go.
 An act of kindness.  That’s easy right?  Except that’s not what it says.  It says an unexpected act of kindness.  That means it needs to be something you don’t ordinarily do.  Or take the time to do.  Either way, effort would need to be made.  I do try to do thoughtful things or say thoughtful things, but I decided it would need to be something I don’t do to be effective. 
So we move on to the laundry (I did cook him a big breakfast before work, too, but I occasionally do this, so this was not shocking).  I HATE the laundry. It is my achilles heal of “housewifing.”  Don’t misunderstand me.  I hate the laundry, but I do the laundry.  Let me tell you my schedule:
let clothes pile up for at least 10 days
take basket to laundry room
sort (and make mess with) clothes
do each load (sometimes leaving a load in overnight to ferment)
spread each piece out over the side of my basket (which doubles the work…if I would only take hangers in there!)
load it all back to my bedroom where it sits at the foot of my bed for another week or so….
until it’s time to do it all over again–except this time the basket is occupied and can’t be used for hauling clothes–and the load to hang is now quadrupaled
I’m not sure why I do it that way, but only about once a month do I actually accomplish one person’s clothes and have them back in said room in one day.  Someone teach me the way, please…
Anyway, enough background into my messiness…..Matt knows my destructive patterns and has taken it upon himself to do his own laundry.  I get me and the kids, but he handles his.  (He is also particularly anal about the way his white tshirts are folded and this way he can keep tabs.)
I walked into the bedroom that afternoon and saw his duffel bag full of clothes from his ski trip and I knew what I had to do.  Got to work and was on a roll, but Ava had her worst afternoon yet, and the hanging stopped. 
Now, I know what you’re thinking.  You didn’t hang the clothes so it doesn’t get to count.  I beg to differ!  I never touch his laundry basket much less load his clothes.  It was an unexpected act, that it was.  And he was pleased.
Even though half the clothes were already clean.
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