Kids in their teens and early twenties have not fully learned skills of compromise and patience; at least not with those whom they’re close to. I hear all the time from my daughters how we should tolerate people’s differences in this day of too many identity options. But when it comes to their siblings, the rules don’t necessarily apply. We parents give our children sisters and brothers, so they can learn patience and kindness, or the best way to smack that sibling up side the head without mom catching them.

My kids are older now, so there are none of the battles as there were when they were young. No cries of “mom she’s touching me” or “mom she hit me.” But if one of them trips on something, loses something, or smells something bad, they blame the other. It’s just what siblings do.

However, sometimes as a parent, I have to take blame where blame is due and apologize when necessary. Like today, I’m doing laundry and an errant paper was left in someone’s pocket and is now in pieces, stuck all over the clean clothes. The worst part is it’s the dark laundry, which further highlights the sin of the culprit.

Normally, I ignore it, figuring it was one of the kids’ pockets. I shake my own and my husband’s laundry clean of the affecting paper and fold the girls clothes as usual and let them take care of their own debris. This time, however, I felt the need to investigate.

My husband never leaves paper in his pockets. When he changes his jeans he stands over the bed and methodically empties the pockets before he throws them in the laundry. We girls have all left paper in our pockets at one time or another. Lately, every time paper appears in the wash, I’ve assumed it was from my oldest daughter’s black work pants, because it always happens with the dark load.

If I’m completely honest, I have to admit I put paper in my pockets all the time. I figure if it’s in my pocket and not in my purse, I’m more likely to find it. Things tend to get lost in my purse. Although in hindsight, it’s probably better to lose something for awhile than have it destroyed in the washing machine.

But I had to fess up to this latest faux pas, because just last week my youngest, over Facebook, threatened her sister with her life if she left paper in her pockets again. And though I tried to convince myself this recent transgression was in my oldest daughter’s coat pocket, I don’t see any signs of paper in the actual pocket, though because it’s black it’s all over the jacket. However, both of my own shorts pockets had bits of paper in them.

Before I completely accepted that the paper-dotted laundry was my doing, I laboriously tried to piece together some of those bits to figure out what the paper was, which would then have lead me to the offender. To no avail. It was some sort of flyer, I think. Though “wytonk” and “Full” was the only printing I could restore and it meant nothing to me, it was probably me.

I suppose the moral should be that I should check pants pockets before I put them in the wash. There’s never any money in them, though, so what’s the point? What’s a few shreds of paper among family? I’m not afraid to take the blame. I’m the mother, after all. What are they gonna do? Fire me? A mother can dream.

Gretchen Leigh is a stay-at-home mom who lives in Covington. You can read more of her writing and her daily blog on her website livingwithgleigh.com or on Facebook at “Living with Gleigh,” or twitter @livewithgleigh. Her column is available every week atmaplevalleyreporter.com under the Lifestyles section.