So, last night, I had the supremely wonderful experience of going grocery shopping...ALONE! But, I'd been there only a few minutes when my mom called. I am a woman of many talents, so I figured I could certainly shop, hold the phone and the list, and steer the cart one-handedly. And, I could. Mostly. Until I rammed my cart headlong into that of a very kind gentleman who had just pushed it to the very edge of the aisle to make way for me! Yikes! "OH! Sorry! Sorry."

"That's okay. The grocery store is well-known to be a dangerous place!" He smiled.

"Oh, you know us, women drivers on their cell phones! Haha!"

"Oh! I can't say anything about that! I'm outnumbered in here!"

Then in the next lane I pulled down a box of granola bars into another shopper. Blush! "Sorry! Sorry! I'm so sorry!" If you ever hear of Rachel's Law you'll know it has something to do with prohibiting people (women?!) from talking on cell phones while driving. Shopping carts.

But, the most embarrassing thing happened today. I was shopping at TJ Maxx this afternoon. But this time, I was not alone. It's not like this was the first time I'd ever taken the kids into a dressing room with me before. But, something has definitely come over Punk since the last time. I should have known trouble was coming. As I was browsing the clothing racks, Punk said, "Mama!! Guess what I just saw!!!! UNDERWEARPANTS!!!!" Yep. Shoulda known.

But I didn't. Instead, I naively betook myself, my 6 items, my 4.5 year old son, my 3.5 year old daughter, and my dignity into the largest dressing room of the bunch. Having learned from past excursions, I warned them both away from the curtain. And, to not lick the mirror.

I then proceeded to remove my own clothes and try on the first dress. "Tee-hee-hee-hee! Mama!!! Guess what I see!!!! I see YOUR UNDERWEARPANTS!!!!"

"Yes, Punk, I'm trying on these clothes, so you're going to see my underpants, but we don't need to talk about it, okay?"

"Okay, Mama. That's a really pretty dress. I really like it. Are you going to buy it?"

"Nope. I don't think so." And, I take it off.

"Tee-hee-hee-hee! Mama! I see your UNDERWEARPANTS again!!!!" Then he moves behind me. "Mom! Why is there BLOOD on your UNDERWEARPANTS!?!?!?!"

Whoosh! I'm as red as can be, although I know full well that it's paint. Pink paint from when we painted Pea's room in Boise for her. "Son, that is not blood. It is paint."

"Oh. Mom, why do you have paint on your UNDERWEARPANTS?"

"Because," slipping on the next dress, "when Daddy and I painted Pea's room for her in Boise, I sat on a drop of paint and it got on my underwear. Let's not talk about it anymore, okay? Please don't say anything else about my underwear."

"Okay, Mom. I like the other dress better."

"Thanks for the advice, Buddy. I agree." And, I slip it off.

"Tee-hee-hee-hee!!! Mama! I see your HMM-HMM-HMM-HMM-HMMM!!!! Tee-hee-hee-hee!"

And so it went, on and on, until I'd tried on all six items. Finally, I had to pull back the curtain and face the world. With my head bowed and my face hidden in my neck as best I could.

And the moral of the story is, If you sit in paint, throw your panties away!!!!!