There are many, many things that I just never fully appreciated as a child. Coffee, chocolate and sexy undies would all make the rather long list of things flying below my childhood radar. No, I wasn’t running around commando as a wee one. (Well, I actually did a few times, but that’s for another post.) After all, it was the 1970s. We were all sporting practical cotton briefs in neutral colors versus anything remotely attractive — unless you find the days of the week remarkably cute. But the aging process is all about finding new perspective. And things in your closets and cupboards you never thought you would back when you thought 35 was “over the hill” and stretch marks would never happen to you.
As a kid, my mom would always get us a chocolate Easter bunny for our baskets. And, as a kid, I would eat the ears off my bunny and then decide I would save it for later. (I apparently have hoarder tendencies.) This went on for years. YEARS people. To the extent that one fine day during my adolescence my mom agreed to keep me company while I reorganized my closet. We stood there in front of a long line of long and short sleeves mixed together with wild abandonment and suddenly I hear something a bit like this:
A while back I took my kiddos to see my parents who live quite a distance from myself. It is a long, long, god-forsaken drive, made bearable only with frequent applications of Diet Dr. Pepper and Diet Pepsi as well as peanut M&Ms. Oh, and a DVD player.
So we get to my parents and all is well. At least once I can feel my posterior again. The next morning we get up and my mom tells my daughter, “Let’s go get you dressed. Can you bring me your clean underwear and day clothes?”
Suddenly, my world of tranquility and nice turned into one of Dante’s 7 Levels of Hell. It seems I had forgotten to pack any undies for my daughter.
Now let’s be clear on a few things here. First off, my daughter would probably be quite content to wear the same undies until they fell off her hiney in a wee pile of tatters. At her age, hygiene didn’t include changing one’s clothes. However, because Grandma said she should put on clean undies, well, a proclamation from Congress and the POTUS couldn’t have held more power.
Go commando while I washed her sole pair? Nope. Wear one of her brother’s pull-ups just until the undies were tidy-whities once again? No can do. Wear a pair or her older brother’s Y-fronts. Oh no, you have got to be kidding me.
So the plan for the day suddenly included shopping for new underwear.
The only problem is that my parents live in the middle of BFE. As in, past the end of civilization and all shopping centers. I kid you not.
We begin phoning all shopping options. I even dialed gas stations in a 25 mile radius. The nearest I found was a package of Grandma Panties circa 1962, size XL. No way that was going to fit her hiney.
So, we loaded up the kids and the van and drove 75 miles into the nearest town that carried “girlie” panties in a size 4.
All told, those 4 pairs of Littlest Petshop panties cost me $84.62 in panties, snacks, bandaids (for the injury to my head when I whacked myself with the tail-gate of the van), 3 rides on the carousel, and dinner for 5 at Red Robins.
If you are traveling anywhere for spring break, do yourself a favor and double-check the suitcase for panties – for all members of the family.
Because parenting is really only a “wait a second and this will change” kind of thing, here’s the latest in my little land of potty training. You may have read that using the power of Superheros seemed like a good way to jump start my 3 year old’s potty training process. (The Power of Superhero Underwear) Now it’s time for the update. Seasoned potty veterans probably know what is coming after the jump.