October 08, 2009
This morning my son couldn't find any pants. After searching the drawers and coming up empty we consigned ourselves to looking through the dirty clothes. Hey, I am the first to admit to sending my kids to school in less than perfect clothing. What's a grass stain or two under the desk between friends in school? Alas the stains were too prevalent to go to school. So I suggested the dryer. I just know I did laundry for that kid like yesterday. Still no dice. Only girl clothing in there. There was no time to wash more clothes so I directed him to his brother's pants drawer. Score! As it turns out Little Boy is closing in on Middle Boy's size. Middle Boy seems to be at a stall growth wise. Ask the orthodontist. Middle Boy has lost less teeth than his little brother. I'm glad he doesn't seem upset by this news. I however wonder if I should be concerned. It would not be the first time with Middle Boy. When he was a toddler the pediatrician had us bringing him in for weight checks. My husband was in medical school at the time and suffered from an overly anxious imagination while studying all the pediatric diseases out there. He was sure Middle Boy had some sort of growth disorder.
So now that they wear the same pants all kinds of opportunities to avoid folding laundry are coming my way! Yeah!
Then in my haste to get dressed myself for the 4 minute drive to school I accidentally grabbed my husband's jeans and pulled them up. Half way to my destination (my waist) I realized my mistake. My first thought was this: If I pull up these pants and they don't fit I will feel like crap. My second thought was this: You knew this day was coming sweetie. I have been the one popping out children over the past 15 years. I'm the one who inherited my mother's apple body. It's not that un-natural to have a pooch at 40. It's just there is this little imaginary world in which I tend to place myself where I am not as fat as I really am. I see myself in a department store mirror and go "oh who is that poor woman-whoops it's me!" Then other days I'm like, "oh who is that cutie? Yeah it's me!!" It all depends on the day (and the outfit).
So it's too late to back out of the pulling-up-pants move (we were late). Up go the pants. They fit. Not loosely, but they fit. I walked out and showed my 15 yr old and... here's where things fall into perspective... I say "look, these are Dad's jeans and he says something like "Aren't you proud that you fit into them?" And I was like. "No- I'm sad that we are so close to the same size that I can wear his pants! In my mind I would have been glad to keep imagining that we are not the same size at all, but that I am still the 115 lb bride that he married.
Yes it was a scary pants day indeed.... Very scary.