Good Morning Underpants (a recent college narative essay - true story..lol)

    Sometimes juggling the roles of wife, mother, friend, Sunday school teacher, college student, and caretaker can make one frazzled, to say the least! One fall morning everything seemed to be running quite smooth. Everyone’s teeth were brushed, check. Their hair was combed, check. The children buckled in the car, check. Backpacks ch…, peeking out of the top of my three year olds camouflage backpack was a plastic bag. I immediately imagined the scenario: He had dribbled at potty time and his recent display of obsessive compulsive tendencies caused him to insist on being changed. So, replacing the undies was a must – I went back in the house.

Just through the door, I tossed the bag over to the laundry room. Then, I hurried back to my son’s bedroom and grabbed a pair of clean, blue, and white Thomas the Tank Engine underwear. I carefully assessed them for stains or fading since they may lie at the bottom of his cubby for many more weeks.  Consequently, I acknowledged to myself that our ordinary school day routine had become more of a race now – I picked up my pace.

My near sprint was distracted by the sight of my college backpack on the couch – I grabbed it up. Then I reminded myself to get the boys’ jackets and their lunch pails. Did I remember keys? My hands were full at this point, so I tossed the underpants onto my shoulder, set the house alarm, and pulled the door closed.

We had eight minutes to make a ten minute drive. I was confident that the day was improving. We steadily made each curve to the rural school in the valley, where both my children attend the head start and pre-k programs. We arrived at the little brick building with bright blue paint around the windows and doors, an apparent attempt to freshen the aging structure. I opened the door and paraded the boys out of the van. I placed their backpacks on their shoulders then secured the van doors for drop off.

I pushed them gently through the door of the classroom and encouraged each to hang their backpacks. I signed the check-in sheet which confirmed that we were indeed five minutes late. Meanwhile, I gave last minute kisses and hugs to the boys. Their teacher stopped to remind me of the upcoming fall break. I thanked her and rushed back to the vehicle. I was off to meet my husband for breakfast.  I anticipated a moment to finally clear my thoughts.

I slowly opened the door to the quaint seven table diner downtown. The owner stopped me and we chatted for a minute or so regarding an upcoming children’s consignment event. My husband waited at a table covered with an orange waterproof tablecloth taunt around the edges and stapled underneath to secure it. I sat down and took a couple of deep breaths; a sigh of relief immediately followed, or was it accomplishment. No, it was a sense of survival.  My husband leaned towards me and whispered, “Honey, what is that on your shoulder?” I glanced over ever so slowly as not to frighten the ladybug or whatever unsuspected critter that had caught a ride. Instead, I discover the little pair of Thomas the Tank Engine underwear just where I left them! I simply responded, “Good Morning Underpants!”