Living Room Antics - Does this sound familiar?

It is friday evening. The laundry has been piling up all week and has been washed and tossed on the couch. Enter five people all of laundry folding age. The first in the room quickly plants herself in the most comfortable chair in the room after being certain that she will not have to leave her seat again for the remainder of the evening. Mentally she goes through her mental check list. Popcorn, pop, craft project, book, pen, paper, candy, snuggle blanket, clicker. All present. Time to mind meld with the tele. The second child enters the room, happy to claim the last laundry free furniture that is comfortable in the room. He also quickly runs down his check list. Chips, pop, ipod, snuggle blanket, shoot - she got the clicker, now I have to watch what she wants to (which isn't much, it is either CTV, or Global... that's all we get out here, but after a few years with no tv, they happily take it). The third child and one adult walks into the room, both look peeved that they were too late to get the good chairs. The stubborn teen girl takes the stiff leather seated kitchen chair that resides in the corner in the event that I actually can find time to spin wool. Of course, I get the couch or the floor. Being too "old" and stiff to sit on the floor, I shove the laundry to one end of the couch and beg for help folding the laundry. No takers. In comes the man of the house. Self appointed bully of the best furniture in the house. He stands in front of the most comfy chair, his snack in one hand, pop in the other. He waits while giving his quiet stare, which has no effect on my youngest. Then he grunts. Still she is too stubborn to move. He knows one thing that will make her move. He turns his tush to her and starts to sit. Weighing 250 pounds she really only has one option. She gets angry at being bullied from her seat and flops herself across the pile of laundry on the couch, knocking down the small pile of freshly folded clothing. I snap her on the tush and ask her to move it. She gives that teen sigh, and crosses her arms and plops down at the end of the couch after shoving the clothes toward me. She's not going to help fold laundry. Okay, I will do it myself. What mother has not said that. After the third basket of laundry, I get tired and start throwing the clothing belonging to each person in the room at them, "here, fold your clothes or you will wear them wrinkled". My son balls his up and says that is good enough for him. My man shoves his onto the floor and vows he will do it later, and my youngest just holds hers on her lap, I know they will end up in the pile again. My oldest daughter folds hers only to take them upstairs and put them on her bedroom floor. "Why do I bother?" I mumble to myself. I should just throw their dirty clothes back on the floors of their rooms and tell them to just pick their clothes off the floor to wear. Silently I crab to myself about them, and fold all the clothes. I love friday night! Wo - hoo! Don't you?
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