Pajama Days

This was yesterday:

And this was today:

Oh what a difference a day can make, for one of these things is not like unto the other.

Yesterday was a day to hide.  From church.  From family.  From life.  From my daughter's tremendously tempting and impressively large stash of sugary sweet manna in the top drawer on the right.  From myself.  These are Pajama Days.  If I shower, I quickly crawl into yet another pair of pajamas.  Bring on those sexy "flaid plannels."  Wearing pajamas all day is a cry out to the world, "I'm NOT out of bed!  Not REEEEALLLY . . it doesn't count, you see!"  Wearing pajamas all day means that at any given moment, I might dive back in and bury my head under the covers, hoping beyond hope that nothing creepy will brush up against body parts carelessly left exposed to the Moogyban.  The wearing of pajamas instantly puts me out of the running for errands, visits, appointments or any manner of uneasy interaction with humankind outside of the glorious comfort of my own rambly walls.  (Or bed!)

The problem is that I can't seem to snap back into "world participation" once the sun breaks through the clouds and resumes bestowing its sunshiny goodness upon the earth.  "I CAN'T!" I'll cry, while people around me scratch their heads, trying to figure out whether to berate, negate or wait.  

I'm not sure what to tell them.  I don't know, myself.  If I did, I might be heading up PTA committees, volunteering for band booster bake sales, putting my time in for neighborhood cleanups or any number of worthwhile, NORMAL activities that exhausts me to even consider.

And so instead, I'll take one step at a time.  I might get dressed.  I might slowly ease onto my back deck.  And I might play a fun little game with my fun little guy.

He doesn't seem to mind that I'll never be a PTA President or a Den Mother or one of "Those Mothers."  You know the ones I'm talking about.  All he seems to care about is that I'm HIS mother - senseless quirks and all.  And as long as I keep the candy supply coming, he's just fine with that.


  1. Pajama days--They rock! I don pj's every Sunday afternoon. I'm done. I did the whole she-bang. I am outta dress, shoes, hose, etc... and into pj's. Monday morning comes around and I am not sure I am ready to face the world, either. It's comforting to know that I'm not the only one.

  2. I never seem to make it all day in pajamas, but my equivalent is a day in what we call "comfy" pants. Today is one of those days, actually... <3