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The jammie stalkers

It’s 11.30am.
I have a million and one things on my to-do list around the house. I’m busting my ass around the house like a lunatic, I smell like a cross between a construction worker and bleach. My hair is pulled up in an unbrushed ponytail, I’m sporting a tank top and checkered jammie bottoms and yeah of course I’m braless, duh jammies. I don’t want to quite get dressed yet since that seems anti-productive. These jammies are now needing a wash so hey, I’ll just wear these while I clean the house, then somewhere around 2pm I’ll be done, hop in the shower and put these babies in the laundry. It’s a plan. The kids, also in jammies, right now they are perfectly happy in front of the TV annoying the crap out of each other, but out of my way. This works, it’s a fool proof system of logic that enters the mind of most mothers, either at one stage of motherhood or all stages.

Then the doorbell. What the hell?! I am expecting exactly zero groceries, no packages, family has not warned me of any impending presents on the way and uhh, I’m pretty sure I’m not in trouble with the law. Panic sets in, I’m friggin braless remember?! I’m not supposed to care what other people think of me since my man thinks I’m the sexiest woman on the whole damn planet but I do honestly give a crap who sees me like this. And it isn’t whoever is behind door number one I can tell you that. I look around, oh yeah I just cleaned up all the clothes that were laying around the house and so I have absolutely nothing to throw over my bouncing boobs, who’s nipples are now sticking straight out because they hate me. Fine, who cares right? Who cares what the person behind the door thinks. I answer it, arms folded since, my nipples hate me, and the second I open the door, you can bet your Aunt Maybel that my kids will start yelling at each other, kicks will fly and someone will be crying in sheer pain. Every time.

”Do you mind taking a package in for your neighbor? It seems they are out today” Uhhh, yeah I do mind since, well as you can see I’m standing here braless now wondering if a) I’m managing enough nipple coverage with folded arms and b) scanning over my brain in true Terminator style wondering if I got to the point where I brushed my teeth yet. But aside from that, I don’t want to look like a total ass now since you put me on the spot Mr UPS jerkface, so fine ok I’ll take in the tiny package. I have to make up for the fact that I’m now appearing like the single most dysfunctional Mother in the world since not only are we not dressed, kids are screaming and I just look like I’m so not coping and ready to hit some booze. Dogs are right at the door with me and I race to get them in the other room while I receive the package, scribble my signature like a doctor on his little electronic piece of crap that won’t work (cos my nipples hate me of course) and he will stand there with his massive gut and unwashed shirt judging me. Uh huh, yeah.

So off he gets the tiny package, which isn’t so tiny after all and now he has to come in and leave it right in the hallway. Damnit. So much for being a good neighbor. So now he can actually see that the kids aren’t dressed, that there is cereal everywhere since the fight consisted of throwing cheerios at each other and not one of us has had the decency to brush our hair. So now I’m babbling at him making up excuses as to why this scene is in my house, just in case it’s crossing his mind to call the authorities and I’m ranting on about how the kids aren’t feeling well and I’ve been cleaning so please forgive us and uhh…. hes looking at me like Lady, I don’t give a crap about your nipples and undressed kids. Can I just put this package down? But I care. I do friggin care actually and I’m not signing that electronic do-dah until you listen to all my excuses cos honey, I’m a woman and so am armed with a zillion excuses for such occasions.

I sign the doo-dah (three feckin times) and close the door on the UPS delivery twat who smiles because I think he just got an eyefull of those nipples actually before he left. Jerk. He’s also noted my bright red face and now I know there is no hope in hell he’s colorblind. Double Jerk. I’m also sitting here with a package in my hallway that I need to keep my dogs and kids from climbing on while I finish cleaning the rest of the house and get around to that shower at 2pm. Twatface Jerk. I hate him, him and his stupid gut and sarcastic jokes thinking he’s funny and judging me and my dysfunctional motherness. And now I hate the neighbors for ordering a DIY explosives kit and not being home. How dare they work while I stay at home cleaning.

I swear to the great divine powers that delivery people have jammie radars in their trucks. They purposely race to the houses of the people on their list who are still lounging around undressed and unwashed just for their own sick entertainment. If they can’t get round to the house in question they use that radar to pick the house with the jammie slob in it. Braless Mothers are their favorite. They eat braless mothers for breakfast. Because it doesn’t matter if I get dressed 6 days of the week by 9am, it matters little that on the days I’m expecting them to arrive that I’m dressed and looking presentable. All that matters is that if I do have the odd day where I’m not dressed they will come. They will find some excuse to leave any package in their truck, secretly tape me, my nipples, my screaming kids and post the video on YouTube. These people are not normal, they live for this crap. Their truck is swarming in secret photos of my nipples and unwashed hair for a laugh. I think they get paid bonuses for each picture. Jerks.

So the next time you are lounging around in your jammies having one of those manic or maybe even a relaxing day, just know that jammie stalkers are lurking somewhere in your neighborhood. They know where you live…you’ve been warned.

9 Responses to “The jammie stalkers”

  1. Tania @ Larger Family Life says:

    Oh my goodness that was so funny! Is there anyone this hasn't happened to?

  2. Mesina says:

    Tania, I certainly don't think so! If such a person exists, I dare say they haven't lived. x

  3. Marybeth Poppins says:

    you just reminded me I better get dressed before the cable guy gets here! lol

    love it!

  4. Lisa Anne says:

    Stopping by from sits as I saw you on roll call. OMG this post was so funny. I am just like you, in my jammies cleaning house with no bra. I really should not go braless either as i could knock myself out. Anyway your blog is great and I can't wait to read more. I've added you as a follower!!

  5. Simplistic Mom says:

    I think we have all been there and done that! ๐Ÿ™‚

  6. Mesina says:

    Marybeth – I hope you got dressed in time!!!
    Lisa – I thought most of us Mommy's would relate! Glad you enjoyed the post and the blog! Thank you. And wow, I have that boob problem too, boob sista!
    SM – yeah I think we all have ๐Ÿ˜€

  7. Eva Gallant says:

    OMG! I laughed so hard reading this!! I can relate. I'm retired, but I always get up, shower, and get dressed before 9:00. One Saturday I was dragging, so I was sitting in the living room in my panties and a t-shirt..not bra (also hazardous to my health like Lisa Anne, and my unmarried brother-in-law drops by…one Knock on the door, and walks in! AAAARRRGGGHHHH!

  8. Mesina says:

    Eva, ok I would like to say that reading your comment made me sympathise but is it wrong to admit I did giggle first? haha! No seriously your brother-in-law?!?! NOOOOO!!! I'm glad you stopped by, have a blush free weekend!! xx

  9. SE says:

    Just popping by from SITS to say Happy Saturday Sharefest!! ๐Ÿ™‚
    I love this story, it's happened to me before and normally the delivery guy is HOT!! lol
    Have a good weekend ๐Ÿ™‚

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