>> Saturday, April 10, 2010
I hate it when I can't find my bra! By the end of the day I’m dying to fling it off, don't care were it lands, I just want the girls free.
Until the next morning when I can’t find it, it’s crazy making. Boobs flopping around all morning as I’m trying to get the boys off to school. Sit down to have a cup of coffee and my boobs squish themselves in the crook of my arms. So every time I take a sip of coffee I pinch my own nipple.
Being strapped for cash all the time, bras are not on the top of my list. Truly I need to keep better track of my bras, having only having 3.
The back up, brown beat up bra, it’s lost its underwire. The all purpose, white (more like dirty white and currently MIA) it’s straps fall down all the time. And the sexy mama, pretty salmon push up, my husband’s favorite.
I have know idea where it could be, bras have ended up all over the house! I’ve tossed my bras on the couch, only to find my 7 year old walking around with it on his head, sing "I'm a booby head!" Tossed em over the banister, that one met a tragic fate when the Dog chewed it up. RIP pink floral bra.
Better get looking for old faithful "all purpose bra." I would hate to have to wear "sexy bra" and fight off the hubby all day. Plus all this typing could cause some serious chaffing.
It’s a day of doing laundry.
A normal daily chore.
Washing, folding, put-a-way
And picking up the floor.
My toddler’s running all about,
A ribbon in her hair.
Wearing the cutest little dress
With fashion and with flair.
I venture to the dryer
To switch another batch.
My mouth drops open wide
When I open up the hatch.
The one bra I have left to wear
That’s nearly a decade old.
Looks like it’s been rolled around
In some yucky, greenish mold.
Somehow it got sorted in
With all my darks and blues
And now is spotted pink and green
Like smelly bowling shoes.
I just want to sit and sob
When my toddler saunters in
Dressed in too-pricey clothing
And an I-know-I’m-cute grin.
And I realize, right then and there,
How mothering’s meant to be.
So I’ll wear my ugly, tie-dyed bra.
‘Cause it’s no longer just about me.