MeaghanMarieQuiteFrankly

I think as a first post it’s only fair that I jump right in and share one of my recent most embarassing moments.  This should give you a good insite as to the type of life I lead ;)

Yesterday I may have experienced the most embarrassing moment - ever.

When you’ve had two kids you don’t really have a lot of shame left so it’s pretty hard to top. Mr. Pretties (The husband) and I took the Pretties (The children)out to do some last minute baby shopping. We split up because I wanted to see what was left of the Old Navy 50% off sale. Not much. But still, some good digging could turn up some cute things no doubt.

Now let’s take a moment here to remember that I’m 9 months pregnant. I am not a big person normally, on a non-pregnant day I easily weigh in at 105lbs and 5′2″. During this pregnancy I am currently sitting at 145lbs. Yeah. Not so small anymore. And my maternity clothes are uncomfortable. So are my maternity underwear, so, I skipped them. Let’s leave it at that for now.

 So I take the Little Pretty and Mr.Pretties takes the big one. We’re good to go. I have to walk the LP because someone (That would not be me) forgot the stroller at home. We’re browsing around the store and LP is politely telling me ‘No thank you Mommy!’ to everything I show her. We’re obviously in the 50% off the already reduced section, where every other mom in search of a good deal is lurking. LM is proudly proclaiming ‘Hi Guys!’ making everyone look and comment on her adorableness. Then I see it. A pink terry towel dress. Really cute and I’d been meaning to buy LP one for the beach when we attempt those family things. I carefully crouch over, ever so slowly (Because now a days, that’s how I roll) and…

 *RRRIIIIIPPPPPP*.

My pants have split. Not just a little split. No. From the front zipper alllllllllll the way to the top of the back of my pants where the crotch seam ends. Oh. My. God. And do you remember what I said about maternity underwear a little while back? Not wearing them. With split pants. I am in Old Navy on a Friday night, which is packed with LP yelling ‘Hi Guys!’ with my rear end and other thing unmentionables hanging out for the world to see.

I stood there momentarily not sure what to do. How often does one have to deal with a situation like this in life? This was not in my brain back log of ‘just incases‘. At. All. So, because I’m an idiot I first decide to leave the store and wait in the car for Mr. Pretties and BLP. So I try to sneak out of the store and mall unnoticed with LP yelling ‘Bye bye guys!’.

We make it to the car.

 I don’t have the bloody car keys.

Standing in a busy parking lot is not much better than a busy store. So I think. Then I think maybe since Old Navy was right near the entrance to the mall, maybe I could go back and buy new pants quickly and no one would notice.

So I grabbed TLP and we make a dash for Old Navy. At this point I’m holding her with one hand and my shirt over my rear end with the other. Gee, that doesn’t scream ‘Hey you, yeah you, the one in the green hat, check out my exposed patootie!’ at all I’m sure. So after searching for the longest 10 minutes ever known to humanity I finally find a pair of black and white pajama pants that will do (I have a pajama pants fetish) and they’ll make good hospital jammies for The Little Boy Person’s impending arrival. Perfect.

We rush to the change rooms and get put in right away with minimal people snickering. I take the offending pants off and step into the saviors as TLP opens the change room door. We are in the change rooms right in front of where the change room clerk is, as well as all the other people waiting. Great. Icing. On. The. Cake. So I rip the tags off the new pants, fold the old ones, and head out. The change room lady is not digging this. She is not grasping the concept that this ripping off of the tag and wearing the pants out is absolutely necessary. Not to mention I’ve done this before (Not because of ripped pants) with no problem. She finally radioed cash to let them know I was on my way with my offending pants and a tag. The cashier was much more understanding and wanted to know if I’d like my garbage pants folded and put in a bag. No thanks. At this point I think a garbage bag would be too good for them. LP and I then proceeded to walk the mall in my black and white pj bottoms with a nicely clashing black and white shirt for all to see. All of this because of this:

If you see this, do not, I repeat, do not bend over to pick it up. You’ll regret it, it’s a set up Old Navy has going to get you to purchase pants you do not need. I’ve warned you.

And do you know what Mr. Pretties had to say about this series of horrific events? Wait for it now, it’s priceless…

‘It’s not that big of a deal!’.

Not that big of a deal? We’ll see what’s not a big deal when some how the seam in his work pants comes loose suddenly when he’s going commando. Mr. Pretties works in a factory, his fellow employees would love this. So would I. Just watch your rear end Mr. Pretties… you wont know when, you wont know how… but your ‘boys’ will certainly know what it’s like to hang in the breeze…

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