It's official. I have no shame. Even sadder? I didn't even take notice of the departure of my shame. It just happened, one day, it was gone. I was in a bookstore with my kids, quite enjoying our browsing because they were both behaving as if they were threatened with violence (THEY WERE NOT), when I noticed ..... one of my kids was wearing PAJAMA pants. Not just pajama pants. Inside out pajama pants. In a BOOKSTORE! A public freaking bookstore, for crying out loud!
I mean, really.
In my defense, if I can even try to claim one, we hadn't planned this particular bookstore outing. It was 5:00pm, J was working a bit late, and I had a hankering for a burger. I mean, the (poor, neglected, still nickname-less) baby had a hankering. Protein and such! It had to be a Culver's burger, obviously, because that's the local burger joint located the absolute farthest from my house of all the local burger joints. Babies are so demanding! Anyway, so we were in the play room playing (playing "use power tools on baby dolls" which is kind of an alarming game, really, and should probably be stopped before the fall), and I decided I must have the burger, so we threw on our Uggs and jumped into the car. And on the way there, I was thinking how the kids had really been very good all day and how I hadn't stimulated the local economy in a day or two and also how my UsWeekly subscription ended (HORROR!) so I didn't have the most recent edition. So, bookstore! Except I forgot Anderson wasn't, like, actually dressed. He had been, at one point early in the day, but when nap time comes? That kid wants pee-jays, and ONLY PEE-JAYS. The mystery is how I didn't notice the pajamas when I was putting him into or taking him out of the car, or when we were walking down the sidewalk, or in the first five or so minutes inside the store. Nope. It was only when he brought me a book for consideration (which was a no-go, because we don't DO paper book pages in this house because they end up pageless in two days or less) .... that I went .... zomg. Inside out pajama pants.
Not the biggest deal, I know. But I've always prided myself on keeping us somewhat pulled together. If I don't have makeup on I wear my biggest shades, their winter noses are wiped clean before we get out of the car, and we don't wear pajamas in public. Until, I guess, today. Is this what happens when you have a third kid? You become .... that mom? With inside out pajama pants kids in PUBLIC PLACES? Should I just get the beat up minivan and stop shaving my legs and grow my muffin top out and be done with it? (No, maybe, no.)
Let the record show he also didn't have on any underpants.
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