t-shirt torture

With the end of the school year fast approaching, the special events take on a familiar frantic pace. This year we have an added hurdle thrown in: if you will pardon the pun, let's call it the t-shirt wrinkle.

Specialized t-shirts for this event and that club are being brought home in unmatched quantities, and then my children are expected to show up in them, washed and ready, on various, seemingly-random, days.

My laundry is just barely under control at the best of times and I consider myself to be doing well if the kids have clean socks. (Not necessarily sorted and in their drawer; just clean. The bar is set pretty low here so I have a chance of getting over it.) The fact that I am expected to produce particular clean clothes on cue is pushing me right over the edge but I don't want to be that mother... you know, the one whose kid is wearing a red Rainforest Cafe t-shirt when everyone else is wearing their yellow shirts with the names of the entire kindergarten class on them.

Clean yellow kindergarten t-shirt in action for last week's field day.

Last week! And I am supposed to have it cleaned again by tomorrow!

Tonight, after a hellacious afternoon of orthodontist appointment -- piano recital rehearsal -- travel soccer game (before which I had to run home and get the white uniform shirt, because the team had to switch out of the red shirt at the last minute, and the white one had just finished its tumble in the dryer)... and then homework hassling of my middle son, including helping him to make a movie for his terrarium project and burn it to disk... around about 9:30 pm, my eldest wandered into my office and asked if I had seen his new "Eat / Sleep / Play French Horn" t-shirt because he needed it for a concert. Tomorrow.

White soccer uniform shirt, also in action;

note how freshly-laundered it looks!

This, after I already made sure to wash said yellow kindergarten t-shirt for a class trip, also tomorrow.

Plus I have never seen said "French Horn" t-shirt in my life. After some extended searching, we found it balled up in an obscure corner of the laundry area in the basement and I dutifully threw it in the washer.

I swear this is a test of parental fortitude, and I for one am barely getting a passing grade. Just as long as I avoid being labeled as that mother then I suppose I haven't failed.

Edited to add: It was a t-shirt trifecta today! Although in typical Secondo fashion, I didn't find that fact out until this morning, thirty minutes before the bus was due to arrive. We could not find the t-shirt he needed -- which he just wore two days ago. His other choice was a pink t-shirt; apparently there's a baby shower for one of the teachers. He ended up wearing one of my pink shirts with sheep on the front. There's that barely passing grade again, or is it a fail for putting my kid in a pink t-shirt?