Needing a break away from the house, I found myself on an impromptu shopping trip. The glamorous destination for my late night getaway was (drum roll, please) Walmart. Typically, when I shop, I'm quite precise (*read anal*) in my grocery shopping preparations. My list is categorized into the sections of the store. That same list is kept in a sheet protector alongside my printed and clipped coupons. Sometimes, I even wear lipstick.
The tone of this evening's trip was entirely different. My hastily written shopping list was left behind on the counter. Thankfully, my barely charged cell phone was remembered. Andrew kindly obliged my request(s) to relay the information as I meandered through the store. But OH! The freedom to let my cart lead the way. I spent 5 minutes doing absolutely nothing in the scented candle aisle simply because I could! There were no children to contend with. The break, although I deemed it as "work" to garner my husband's appreciation, was refreshing.
Returning home to peaceably sleeping children was an added bonus. It was a little after 9:00 p.m. as Andrew and I begin to put away the cookies... I mean groceries. Feeling slightly embarrassed, I quietly mumble:
"I didn't realize until I was at Walmart that I was still wearing my sweats." The sound of Andrew's instantaneous laughter affirms that he's heard my admission. In a congratulatory tone he replies,
"That's awesome. You're in the, "I wear sweats to Walmart club!" He pauses a moment. "Don't worry, you're in good company." Despite my best efforts, I begin to giggle as hard as he is. Motioning to my bare feet he adds,
"At least you weren't wearing crocs" I gasp.
"But I was wearing my crocs, didn't you see?" The volume of his laughter increases. I try to fight of the intensity of the situation I'm reluctantly enjoying because...Oh. Too late.
"Ugh, I think I just pee'd my pants a little!" By the way. If anyone, especially a woman who has given birth, ever states, "I think I pee'd my pants" - that translates into, "I most definitely did..."
While standing, I awkwardly cross my legs in an attempt to regain control. My momentary success crumbles as he finishes off the conversation:
"That's okay, it goes with the outfit."