A couple of nights ago... Little Drake had peed out of his diaper so many times the night before that i had zero bundling blankets or easy-zip jammies left. So I was destined to do a load of laundry in the morning.
It took all day long to get the single load of laundry done (shocker!) so that evening after all the kids had gone to bed I was folding it. It just so happened that this laundry load was the first ever containing clothes belonging to all four boys. I don't usually do the big boys' laundry, but I needed to add to the relatively small load so the big boys got spoiled, I guess.
ANYWAY, I was struggling to keep the piles straight ("Let's see... this is Jackson's shirt, and this one is Weston's shirt - no wait, these are both Weston's shirts... and this pile I started is who's? Oh, Davis'. Right. Now where is the Drake pile? Here - no, HERE it is. Oh. I guess he has TWO piles..." And so on and so on). It was during the laundry folding/pile sorting process that it really sunk in: I HAVE FOUR KIDS.
And I tried not to panic.