Jam On My Pants

Jam on my pants, jam on my pants, looking like a fool with some jam on my pants.  Seriously, I have jam on my pants and went out in public like that before I noticed.  I also was not wearing a bra and had not combed my hair.  I am trying to come up with a second verse to my song.  ‘No bra on, hair sticking high, looking like a fool with some jam on my pants’.

I am not the girl that needs to have her hair done or full make-up on before I leave the house.  I feel beauty is within, or at least that is what I tell myself when I get a good look at myself in the mirror.  Prior to losing our school bus, I never even changed out of my pajamas, I would give the other moms a fair warning, “Ladies, you may have to hold your husbands back once they see me”.  They always laughed at this, which is borderline insulting.

So this morning, after driving the kids to school because it was raining, and it is less complaining that I have to deal with, I made myself an English Muffin with a touch of butter and some strawberry preserves on it.  Doesn’t that sound yummy?  Well it was and I ate in my usual ‘eat or be eaten’ fashion that I acquired after having kids.  It’s sad how that happens, one day your eating and you can actually taste the food and enjoy it, the next you are cutting up tiny pieces and shoving it into tiny mouths and in between you are trying to stick something that resembles chicken in your mouth, but how would you know because you sure as hell don’t have time to taste it.

Anyway….I apparently got some strawberry preserves on my light colored pants and failed to recognize it is there.  I then start cleaning up breakfast dishes and throwing some clothes in the dryer and I realize I have another craving for one of those carmel Starbucks coffee drinks.  I try to fight the urge, but it is like a rock star needing crack, so I grab my keys and purse and head out the door.  As I am standing in line I look down and see the giant glob of preserves on my pants and shake my head.  I then attempt to hold my keys in front of it, but that backfires as I am already crossing my hands over my chest because I remember that I forgot to put on a bra.  At this point I just think, who cares?  I mean really, some of the people in there have had something like that happen at some point, right?  Well, probably not, but whatever gets me through it.

Just the other day I was telling a friend about my last incident with a nasty spill and my public humiliation.  A few months ago I was watching TV and having a glass of red wine with my hubby, being my usual clumsy self I spilled the wine on my lime green sweat pants and I figure why bother changing, it will dry and that way I don’t feel bad if it happens again.  The next morning a friend asks me to drop her kid off with mine and when I do, he gets nervous and runs back after my car.  We go park and I come to the realization that the only way I am getting him to his class is by walking him there myself.  So, with red wine stained lime green pants, no bra and hair sticking in all directions I walk him to his classroom.  The teachers look said it all when she saw me, but I think deep down she actually understood the whole scenario.

So I am clumsy and apparently miss some of life’s smaller details, like jam on my pants.  I will be an embarrassment to my kids as soon as they get old enough to realize it and their friends start talking about their messy, no bra wearing mom.  I have to be honest I don’t feel any guilt about this and I actually feel it is my way of getting even for the hectic mornings and anxiety that they give me daily.  I also firmly believe that this will have them well prepared for the future and maybe even they can write a blog about me one day.  Jam on my pants, no bra on, kids are ashamed of their mom!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: