A few months ago one of the major jean companies started marketing "Mom jeans". You know the kind that keep those extra few pounds that you couldn't quite get off after the hundreds of children you've had. Not quite duck tape, but close. Not having jeans in many years because I have, indeed, had four daughters, I bought into this marketing and went to the local inexpensive "big box" and purchased two pair of them at a reasonable price, under $12!
Since we do have six people in this family and are fortunate enough to have a laundry room that is larger than the white house, the laundry simply produces more dirty laundry without the help of the family. Into the room went both pair of jeans. Out of the room came one pair of jeans. Oh, I loved those jeans. I really did. They truly did make a difference. They were tapered without a one inch zipper that sat below my c-section scar. They let me sit down and allowed me to breath. I adore them. I became very possessive over them. I wore them only when I knew I could actually wash them myself and fold them or actually carry them back to my room. Suddenly one pair was gone. It vanished. All four girls denied seeing them. They certainly could not wear them unless all four of them wore them at one time, so I knew it wasn't a case of stealing them. I have been known to steal my sisters clothing in college and just take them to a different state where I went to school. This was not the case.
I thought I searched the house. But there was one place I hadn't gone. There was one place I was truly scared to go. One of my daughter has an incredibly fear of those little silver wiggly bugs and so her clothing is usually strewn about her room on furniture, except the ones that have some how made it into her closet. This was the closet I feared entering. Yet for the good of the team, and those darn perfect jeans, I went in, turning the light before I entered, of course. I looked around. There appeared to be no army of silver bugs -- we call them silver fish, though I think they are incorrectly named. Wormy and fast little fellows, they crawl before your eyes, defying even the quickest of feet.
Slowly I began to pick up pieced of denim clothing. Ha -- like a size "0" is going to fit -- still, I took a moment to gaze at them. I worked on. Pile after pile of clothing that were obviously not even close to denim. But in the third laundry basket, I spied just a small sense of denim. Just a tiny wisp. I pulled it, and out came the jeans that I had been missing for three months. I was ecstatic. I felt like I had purchased another pair and it was for free this time!
I'll never under estimate the silverfish closet. I know my daughter is not hiding clothing in there on purpose. In truth, she did have some sorted to go to Goodwill. Thankfully, my "Mom" jeans were not in that pile. Today, just after I wore my other pair yesterday -- I wear another pair today! Mom jeans unite!
Since we do have six people in this family and are fortunate enough to have a laundry room that is larger than the white house, the laundry simply produces more dirty laundry without the help of the family. Into the room went both pair of jeans. Out of the room came one pair of jeans. Oh, I loved those jeans. I really did. They truly did make a difference. They were tapered without a one inch zipper that sat below my c-section scar. They let me sit down and allowed me to breath. I adore them. I became very possessive over them. I wore them only when I knew I could actually wash them myself and fold them or actually carry them back to my room. Suddenly one pair was gone. It vanished. All four girls denied seeing them. They certainly could not wear them unless all four of them wore them at one time, so I knew it wasn't a case of stealing them. I have been known to steal my sisters clothing in college and just take them to a different state where I went to school. This was not the case.
I thought I searched the house. But there was one place I hadn't gone. There was one place I was truly scared to go. One of my daughter has an incredibly fear of those little silver wiggly bugs and so her clothing is usually strewn about her room on furniture, except the ones that have some how made it into her closet. This was the closet I feared entering. Yet for the good of the team, and those darn perfect jeans, I went in, turning the light before I entered, of course. I looked around. There appeared to be no army of silver bugs -- we call them silver fish, though I think they are incorrectly named. Wormy and fast little fellows, they crawl before your eyes, defying even the quickest of feet.
Slowly I began to pick up pieced of denim clothing. Ha -- like a size "0" is going to fit -- still, I took a moment to gaze at them. I worked on. Pile after pile of clothing that were obviously not even close to denim. But in the third laundry basket, I spied just a small sense of denim. Just a tiny wisp. I pulled it, and out came the jeans that I had been missing for three months. I was ecstatic. I felt like I had purchased another pair and it was for free this time!
I'll never under estimate the silverfish closet. I know my daughter is not hiding clothing in there on purpose. In truth, she did have some sorted to go to Goodwill. Thankfully, my "Mom" jeans were not in that pile. Today, just after I wore my other pair yesterday -- I wear another pair today! Mom jeans unite!
Mom Jeans???
ReplyDelete