Sunday, February 21, 2010

Watching. Just watching.

I did a lot of watching this weekend. Watching the Olympics. Watching Donovan beat me at MarioKart. Watching the kids play together. Watching the snow quietly fall outside. Watching Gemma discover and fall in love with plastic princess dress-up heels. Watching two Harry Potter movies. Watching a shameful amount of pie go into my mouth. Watching the scale reflect as such. Watching as I took notes of inspiration and consolation regarding children with ADHD (more on that later). Watching the inside of my eyelids.

It has been as relaxing and enjoyable weekend as I can imagine without Joel around, and that last part might be a big reason I've worn the same pair of pants the whole time. I use the word "pants" somewhat loosely (pun so very much intended). First of all, they are fleece. Second of all, they're Joel's. Third of all, I think they might be too big for Joel, but thanks to an elastic waist, and since I figured I wasn't going anywhere this weekend, they fit grrrreat. Also a bonus: no unexpected drop-ins. These might be my new favorite pants if it weren't for the crotch hanging down almost to my knees. If I try to roll the waist, I end up with something akin to an innertube around my middle. No matter. The combination of the fabric and size make it feel like I'm wearing blankets around each leg. Big billowy blankets. Pants that say, "Whatever you have on your to-do list can surely wait until later." Pants that have the physical and mental power to make me take it slow. If Snuggie made pants, these are the pants they would make.

I almost put on respectable pants this afternoon. But then I gazed wistfully at the pile of fleece sitting at the bottom of my closet and they called so sweetly to me with promises of warmth and comfort and happiness that I just really couldn't say no. Several months ago when I was about to leave the house for choir practice, Joel shamed me into changing. My general post-church uniform is yoga pants and whatever shirt is clean. "You're wearing THAT?" he asked.

My dad will relate the story of when he and his brother were making their beds and my dad wasn't going to tuck in the side that was closest to the wall and, upon his brother asking him, said, "Nobody can see it." His brother countered, "Well, you wash your butt, don't you?!" My dad was young and, well, a boy, but he'll tell you that he said, "Well YEAH," even thought he knew deep down the answer was, "I'm supposed to wash my butt?" or, even, "I'm supposed to wash?" (mad props to Grandma for teaching her boys to make their beds and TUCK in the sides)

I inherited my Dad's keen sense of inflection and before I could stop myself said, "I was just taking these pants for a little walk. And now I will go upstairs and change into what I'm really going to wear to the choir practice I will now be two minutes late for."

But today, with Joel out of town, there was no choir practice for me. No semi-respectable ensemble. My eyes softened at sight of the sweet gray fleece and before I knew it, they were pulled up over my hips and I felt my body relax, my heart rate slow, my blood pressure drop.

Tomorrow, I'll put on pants with a button and zipper (errand-running demands as such). Tomorrow, I'll get to that to-do list. Today, I've got some more watching to do.


Allison said...

First of all, watching is good. Especially in comfy pants.

Second, oh how I envy pants with a zipper and button. I tried the other day and almost started crying. So if you get nothing else done tomorrow, commend yourself on being able to button your pants. Because I consider that a huge accomplishment.

Lisa said...

My friend gave me a link for an infomercial about Pajama Jeans. "Why should you sacrifice comfort for style?" I thought it was funny. But after reading this... maybe you should buy some. :)

Allison said...

Oh my gosh Lisa, I'm both laughing at that infomercial and thinking I seriously need a pair of pajama jeans!