By Ashlee Gadd
@ashleegadd

I said it the first time after the Pink Shirt Incident of March 2020. 

It happened like this. I had bought myself a striped pink shirt for my birthday—a loose, boxy fit button-down with short cuffed sleeves and a pocket. The shirt was not terribly expensive, nor was it terribly cheap. If I remember correctly, it cost around $45. 

After wearing that shirt exactly three times, my sweet husband, while transferring a load of laundry, made the grave mistake of putting my brand new shirt in the dryer. 

I presume you know what happened next. 

The shirt shrunk. 
I got angry. 
We argued for 20 minutes. 

This is not a new argument in our household, and I suppose I should consider it a blessing that one of our most consistent ongoing arguments pertains to laundry and not money or in-laws. However, this fact remains: my husband and I have been arguing about laundry, more or less, for 13 years. 

(Allow me to explain.) 

My husband and I grew up in different households. In his household, all laundry went into the dryer. In my household, half the laundry was air-dried. I don’t want to explicitly say one method is right and one is wrong, but if you look at the quality of my clothes compared to his, the evidence speaks for itself. (Please don’t @ me; this is not a hill I’m willing to die on.)

In our household, this debate has come up again and again, always after a piece of my clothing has been accidentally, unintentionally, ruined. 

Three months ago, I tossed my brand new shrunken shirt in the donate pile, exasperated, and declared, “If you don’t have time to do the laundry well, DON’T DO THE LAUNDRY.”

My husband did not take this well. He was trying to help! He was doing a chore! He didn’t mean to! He didn’t have time to look through the load! He forgot!

(Yeah, yeah, yeah.)

A few years ago, when we lived in a different house, this issue came up so often that one day I made a handwritten sign and tacked it to the wall above the dryer. It said, “Do NOT put Ashlee’s clothes in the dryer!” The instruction was accompanied by a smiley face because I am nothing if not passive-aggressive when it comes to this argument. Also, have I mentioned I am a joy to be married to?

Three months after The Pink Shirt Incident—just a few weeks ago—it happened again. Victims this time: a pair of forest green gaucho pants and a black tank top. Not ruined per se, but definitely smaller versions of themselves. 

In a moment of pure déjà vu, there we went again. 

How could you? 
I didn’t mean to! 
If you don’t have time to do the laundry well, DON’T DO THE LAUNDRY.

I made a new sign and put it above the dryer. This time, without a smiley face. 

***

Dear readers, may I confess something here? I have been counting down to our August sabbatical since … mid-May. These past few months of sheltering in place, managing distance learning, trying to work from home with three young kids and zero childcare have left me feeling depleted and overwhelmed more often than not. Maybe you can relate.

May I confess something else?

Right now feels like a particularly challenging time to be creating content on the Internet. In recent weeks and months, as we’ve attempted to respond to current events, I have found it increasingly difficult to keep up—to listen well, to process thoroughly, to respond with careful thought and intention.

In other words: friends, I am struggling to do the laundry well.

I feel like I’ve been handed 18 dirty loads and not enough soap. I can’t find the fabric softener. The dryer keeps buzzing (who invented this sound?!) and I keep pulling out things that should have been air-dried. The towels are still damp. What day is it? Who needs clean underwear?

A few weeks ago, one of the C+C writers confessed, “I need to put my phone down.” 

She admitted, in a roundabout way, that she’s been struggling to be present with her family.

Her words hit me like a ton of bricks.

I, too, have been glued to my phone in recent months, drinking the news from a firehose and trying to process, pray, and respond. I’m ashamed to admit that a few times, I’ve rushed to that last part without making adequate space for the first two. But that’s not the mother, woman, or leader I want to be.

Which is why—after much deliberation, prayer, and nudges from both people on this team and my own husband—I have decided to extend our Coffee + Crumbs sabbatical through July. It is a privilege to do work we love, and an even bigger privilege to take a step back when needed.

I know the whole put-your-own-oxygen-mask-on-before-you-help-others analogy is overdone, but if it helps paint a picture: this is us, putting our oxygen masks on now so we can better serve and encourage you in September. This is us making time to do the laundry well.

Between a global pandemic, a much-overdue national conversation about race, and an upcoming election—many of us are feeling desperate to catch our breath, to quiet our lives a bit, to re-examine our own hearts and priorities during this time. It is my hope that carving out extra space this summer will allow us to reenter this work—making mothers feel safe, known, encouraged, and loved—even stronger come fall. 

Until then … may all of our summers be filled with pockets of quiet, with the intoxicating scent of grass and sunscreen and fresh peaches from the trees. May we find time to rest. To read. To write. To pray. May we say “yes” to bubbles and sprinklers, ice cream and s’mores. May we make space to listen and learn, to stand up and take action, even if that looks like slowing down to the rest of the world. May we find a little bit of magic of our own this summer, in fireflies or ocean waves or strawberries sprouting in our backyards. 

As Ashlee Eiland recently commissioned us: May we put down our phones and pick up our lives.

We love you. Thank you for supporting us in our work, and also supporting us in our rest. We’ll see you in September. 

***

A few important notes:

If you are a woman of color who would like to write for Coffee + Crumbs, please use this form to send us your words. 

Patrons - we are forever grateful for your emotional and financial support. While our blog and social media will be dark for the remainder of the summer, we’ll be sharing one newsletter, one podcast, and one bonus essay with you in both July and August. If you’re not a Patron, you can sign up today to support our work for as little as $1/month. As of 2020, all tiers receive the same benefits—we operate on a “give what you can” model. 

Exhale members - Exhale will be up and running, business as usual, through the summer. Our Facebook group may be slightly quieter, but everything else will run as normal.

Fellow writers, here are a few of our upcoming writing workshops: 

Critique Group - Starts July 20, 2020

Reading Well, Writing Well: Building A Writer’s Toolbox - Starts September 7, 2020

Writing with Purpose - Starts October 5, 2020

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We’ll be back online September 2nd, 2020.