I have recounted my parenting holiday fails; including the time I boycotted Christmas only to wake up Christmas morning so riddled with guilt I arose before the boys to run out in search of gifts. Unfortunately, the only place open was the liquor store down the street.
Another Christmas was spent out of town with family. The attempt to have a wholesome Christmas was lost when the Bart Simpson Automatic Toothbrush with Built-In Timer came to life in it's wrapping under the tree.
Seriously??? Surrounded by your grandchildren, THAT is the memory you create???
But, one of the most memorable holiday snaffus was the Company Christmas Party of 1989.
I was a mere 22 years of age, married, with three babies at home. An opportunity to socialize with ANYONE whose main focus of life was something other than Sesame Street or Barney was highly desired.
I remember being a bit apprehensive about going to the party as I didn't have anything appropriate to wear. As any good husband would do, Jim was sensitive to my feelings and took me out to buy something festive. I had two retail options: KMart or Miller's Outpost. Despite being painfully broke, off to Miller's we went.
I selected a pair of soft pink corduroy pants and a pink holiday sweater. I looked......."festive"
After our purchase, we returned home where I wanted to model my outfit for Jim. I wriggled into a pair of control top panty hose so as to tuck in my mommy tummy, eliminate panty lines, and affort comfort in my high heels. Next came the pants and my sweater, and my stilettos . I modeled my attire for my husband, so thankful that I was going to be presentable to his coworkers.
I slipped out of my clothes and carefully hung everything up in the closet in preparation for the party the following night.
The next evening, as the time for the party neared and the babysitter had the kids all settled in front of the TV, I began to get ready.
Make-Up .... check
Fresh pair of panty hose.... check
Corduroys and sweater...check
Sexy pumps ... check
And away we go.... over the river and through the woods to the company party we go!!!
We greet my husband's co-workers, some who are old friends, some who are new and begin to have a great evening out. The drinks are flowing and the music is playing and it doesn't take long before I can't resist the urge to shake my booty on the dance floor!!!
Now, Jim's not one for dancing, so chances of dragging him out there with me are slim to none. But, I soon find a willing victim by the name of Mike and we trip the lights fantastic!!!
I slowly stop mid-hustle, look down .... and see....
ACKKKKK !!!!!!! THE PANTYHOSE I HAD TRIED ON THE NIGHT BEFORE PLAYING
PEEK-A-BOO OUT OF MY PANTS LEG !!!!
Like a B-Movie flashback, I recalled slipping out of the cords and pantyhose simutaneously the night before...and I didn't remove the nylons ...when I couldnt find them, I opened up a new pair. I was smuggling an extra pair of nylons in my pants!!!
The prior pantyhose were slowly shimmying out of my pants leg as I danced and were now 6 inches exposed on the floor.
Now, I had two options:
1. Skamper off the dance floor, mortified, making a bee-line for the ladies room to cry,
2. Hike my leg up on Mike's thigh, and shake my groove thing while Mike pulls and tugs on those pantyhose until they are finally set free, at which point he swings them over his head whoopin' and a hollerin' like a Cherokee with a fresh scalp !!!
I'll let you determine which option I went with.....LMPO (Laughing my pantyhose off)
Happy Holidays, My Dearies....
and remember ...
"The person who knows how to laugh at himself will never cease to be amused."
(somehow, I feel that Shirley must know me... maybe from another life...)