Red Georgia Clay (Sung to the tune of Toby Keith’s Red Solo Cup)
Let’s have a standoff
Ah, yes. Red Georgia clay: the bane of my existence during baseball season. Take a look at these pictures, folks. This is just one week’s worth of baseball pants. How is a woman with other children, other responsibilities, other laundry, supposed to keep up?
All the moms in the stands compare notes. Have you tried this? Have you tried that? Well, here’s another picture proving I’ve tried just about everything. In truth, the season is over, however I still have three pairs of pants soaking in Iron Out in my laundry room sink.
Iron Out, in case you’ve never experienced the joy of this powder, makes your house smell like a sewer. I kid you not. The ladies on the bleachers swear by this stuff, but either I’m not using it right or my son gets dirtier than their kids, because it still doesn’t get all the stains out and that’s after days of soaking! Days!
My all time favorite product, guaranteed to rid white clothes of stains is the inanely named Fels-Naptha. Huh? What marketing genius came up with that catchy title? Although Fels-Naptha does work, while scrubbing stains with this soap bar, I feel a kinship with my ancestors of generations past who scrubbed clothes over washboards. My biceps have never looked better. I can hear the announcer at the fictitious World’s Fittest Mom competition: And now, fresh from the laundry circuit, here’s contestant number three, stay-at-home mom, Christy Hayes…
Does anyone have any suggestions for those of us lucky enough to live in the South who face the joys of red Georgia clay on a daily basis? Please help. Inquiring minds want to know.