This story is about underwear. About finding a pair of my underwear in the center console of my car ...
With that kind of an introduction, you would think this story involves entirely too much fun: maybe too much alcohol, almost definitely one of those guys you know is just such a bad idea. But that would be if you had a free-wheeling, single life. So I can tell you right now, my story is much less exciting but probably much more amusing.
So here goes.
The reason a pair of my underwear is lurking in my center console is because my 3-year-old son has almost conquered potty training. Potty training — for those parents who've not yet gone through it and for those who are far enough away to be able to laugh at those messy, messy memories — is both messy and unpredictable. The boy and I are in the latter stages of potty training. We've gotten the hang of going on the potty. Really! It's the aiming/wiping bit that we still struggle with. I say "we" because when he has a mishap, guess who gets to clean up? Oh yeah, that'd be me.
Being the overly prepared parent that I try to be, I go everywhere — restaurants, grocery stores and play dates — with extra clothes. I was getting us ready for church (yes, the story about my underwear involves church. And yes, I do realize how very, very wrong that is.) and throwing everything into my purse: toys, clothes for the boy, snacks for the boy, a drink for the boy who gets thirsty after eating his snacks, wipes for messes on the boy, paper towels for messes made by the boy, a plastic bag for clothes that get peed on, my tithe from two weeks ago (which is a whole other blog post) ... pretty much everything I think I might possibly need and a few extras for good measure.
It wasn't until we got to church that I realized, wrapped up in the boy's clothes, was a pair of my own undies. Rather than take those into church and pop out at a really inconvenient time (just imagine ... or, rather, don't), I tossed them into my center console.
So simple. So not exciting. But they're STILL THERE. I rediscovered them the other night as I was meeting a few friends out for dinner and immediately threw them back into the console. Story told, story laughed at, story forgotten. And the undies are, again, STILL THERE. Maybe it's because I'm hoping to run into that such-a-bad-idea guy one day. Or maybe (and more likely) it's because I'm juggling the boy, a pack with enough supplies to last us through the next blizzard (or potty training mishap, whichever comes first), groceries and a never-ending to-do list to prepare for my next adventure in mommy-dom. Yeah, I'm thinking that last bit might be it.
