A Day In The Life Of My Stretchy Pants




A Day In The Life Of My Stretchy Pants


(knock, knock, ding, dong) Oh my gosh, it’s twelve past three.

A delivery is coming, that’s just my luck, probably something I’d ordered last week.

Drying off my hands, wet from cleaning a spill, I timidly open the door,

The handsome UPS man says “Howdy do?”, while his gaze goes from my waist down to the floor.


I don’t look down, I know what’s there, I’ve been a busy wife.

My mind screams out, “Tell him why it seems you’ve given up on life!

You’re not a slob, a frumpy mom, it’s just that today was rough,

He would sympathies, apologize, if he heard how your day’s been tough!”


Last night I thought about today, preparations is always key,

I put on my comfy stretchy pants thinking no one else would see.

Knowing I wouldn’t escape this place ’till tomorrow at a quarter past eight,

Cooking, cleaning, teaching, there would be a lot on my plate.


We started early this morning, my stretchy pants and I,

Brush teeth, wash face, look in the mirror, let out a sigh.

Drink a cup, prepare the toast, cook the bacon all while making eggs.

Then, like every morning that came before, I dropped egg whites on my leg.


Time moved too fast, now 6:52, my three Loves awake from their dreams.

Sitting, staring impatiently, breakfast should be ready by now it seems.

But my son, forlorn, came to me with an early morning snuggle plea,

Hugging me tight, burying his head deep, he lovingly rubbed nighttime boogers on my knee.


Then abruptly at 9:54, my daughter screamed out, her eyes full of shock,

She was paralyzed, locked in place, her nose was bleeding much more than a drop.

Encouraging her, “We can make it to the sink”, she bravely said she ‘d try,

But tragically on the way to that sink, blood dribbled down my right thigh.


At 11:15 snack-time was under way, my youngest, I chose to serve first.

He was screaming, hitting and running a muck due to overwhelming hunger and thirst.

When all his banana and crackers were gone he let me know by throwing his cup,

Getting him down, while grabbing the rag, he kindly wiped his hands across my butt.


1:22 slowly came around, I was preparing dinner ahead,

My oldest was playing quietly in her room while my two boys were sleeping in bed.

Mixing some red stuff to put on some brown stuff, I dropped the spoon and just laughed,

Sauce covered the floor, dawned the cabinets and naturally splattered all over my calf.


So here I am at twelve past three, embarrassed, my eyes getting moist,

Do you understand Mr. UPS man?  Staying in my dirty stretchy pants is the only logical choice.

Eggs, boogers, blood, bananas, crackers and sauce, look, can’t you see?

If I wore nice pants then I’d just have to change, creating larger piles of laundry… for me!



*This poem was inspired by my lack of foresight and rookie mistake of prematurely putting on my nice pants yesterday. And yes… that is bananas!