This post is not for you gentlemen. Guys, just move along because this is all about a lady thing. Trust me, you don't want to know.
Are they gone? Okay, I have to get this off my chest because it was one of those nightmare situations you are afraid is going to happen, and last week, it happened to me. It was our board meeting and we had lots of work to accomplish. As I'm relatively new to the board, I put on something nicer than my shorts and sneakers I'm so known for wearing. I had my new white jeans on and a stylish top and I was ready to be the best new board member I could be as I headed off to that meeting, armed with my Starbucks Venti Non-fat Single Chai Latte 185 Degrees.
The meeting was going well. It's a very friendly group that has more desire to get the work done and do a good job than they do in complaining, pointing fingers and being negative about things. Aside from a nagging cough I'd had for a while, I was having a good time, which is saying a lot because board meetings aren't generally reputed to be "fun." That's when it happened.
I did a large round of coughing and I felt something unexpected in my pants. Something other ladies will be familiar with. Something that wasn't expected at all during that section of the month. Oh no. Oh dear. Well, it's probably nothing. Fortunately I'm in the back of the room near the restroom.
It wasn't nothing. It was something and it was all over the place something. Guys, seriously, you're not still reading this are you? I so warned you it was a lady thing. So I took off my pants and underpants. I had no purse on me, nothing to store very soiled underpants in other than a pocket in my very white jeans, so I threw them away in the trash can, hidden under lots of paper towels. I hope no small child found it the next day but that's the option I had at that point.
I did some uncomfortable damage control with paper towels, because I had no other feminine protection devices on hand. And then there were the jeans. There was a quarter-sized spot right in the back. Not in the crotch, because I'd been, apparently, slouching.
So I washed my jeans in the sink. I don't know if it was the most prudent move, but I was hoping the wet white color wouldn't be as obvious as wet blue jeans would be. And they weren't as obvious, but it was obvious. Oh hell, how am I going to get back to my seat? Also, wet jeans smell not unlike wet dog. How nice. The only thing I could come up with was a small throw rug that was on a stack of boxes in the bathroom.
What did I do? I waltzed back out, holding the rug in front of me and sat back down with it on my lap. The head of school gave me a strange look, but I said nothing. Then, some time later when there was a break and the three gentlemen in the room weren't paying attention, I did what any lady would do: I enlisted the help of other ladies, because we've all been there.
I asked Charlotte and Dominique (the head of school) to lean in and I gave them a very quick summary. Charlotte, very kindly said she was feeling hot and wouldn't need her shawl and that I looked cold and would I like to use it as I walked out shortly? They were so kind and they protected me as I walked, shawl-wrapped to my car.
It was awful. It was funny. It was unexpected. But I think, it wasn't known by everyone, mostly the men, which is a relief.
The Big Boy Update: He wasn't even in the room. The other night after both children were in bed there was a commotion on the monitor. This isn't uncommon. What happens is one parent goes up, with a smart phone, and sits in the chair reading email or doing whatever it is they want to do on their phone, until the children settle down. I was there for fifteen minutes and when I got up to leave, the light that came in from opening the door showed that my son wasn't even there. He wasn't in the room at all. He had gotten his pillow, blankets, stuffed animals and pacifier and taken them all to the playroom. He'd made himself a bed on the floor and shut the door. And when I checked, he was happily asleep right in the middle of the little play room.
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: Bath? Bath? She likes taking a bath. Sometimes, I'll be in the bath because I've been running or exercising and she'll come in and want to get into the bath with me. Yesterday morning she was adamant that it was her turn to have a bath. She tried to take off her clothes (unsuccessfully) and then got toys to put in the tub with me. She was confused I think that I hadn't selected a color to have for my bath (they love these little food color tablets that make the bath fun and outrageous shades.) She was glad when it was her turn for a bath last night.
Fitness Update: My neck is sore. This is not uncommon. I have spine issues most days, but some days are worse than others. It was cramped so badly this morning I wasn't sure I was going to make it through the gym workout. And remember those hundred pushups I did yesterday? Don had us do 126 burpees (in which you get in and out of the pushup position after every pushup and do a jump) in less than an hour. Among other tortures. But fun. It was fun. I hope it was fun. At any rate, I made it to the Chiropractor after drop off so hopefully I'll be in less pain this afternoon.
Someone Once Said: There are three schools of magic. One: State a tautology, then ring the changes on its corollaries; that’s philosophy. Two: Record many facts. Try to see a pattern. Then make a wrong guess at the next fact. That’s Science. Three: Awareness that you live in a malevolent universe controlled by Murphy’s Law, sometimes offset in part by Brewster’s Factor; that’s engineering.
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