Blog By Shirt

I thought that tonight, I would let my t-shirt write the blog.

This morning, when I put it on, it was a crisp, clean, baby blue Life is Good shirt. It's one of my favorites because it depicts a home with a large picture window framing a family eating dinner together over the caption "Value Meal." I love it. I bought my mother one, too, as she is the one who really instilled in me the idea that family was meant to eat around a table together. It just made sense to buy the one who inspired so much of my life the shirt with the very message she pumped into me for 21 years.

So, here goes: Blog By Shirt

The entire lower 2/3 of the shirt is a criss-cross of wrinkles from a day's worth of up and down to feed Sir Elias.

The lower right hand front corner has a perfect hand-print of muddy fingers from Keats grabbing for anything to keep him from falling down at the farm where we buy our milk. Of course, I ended up bending, too, to keep him from ripping my shirt which meant he fell anyway.

There are a couple of dribbles of milk right smack down the middle from where I was drinking a glass of the cold stuff when I was suddenly informed I was "base" nanoseconds before Tucker plowed into me once we were home.

My left shoulder has some spit-up from Elias's meal outside of Sam's Club. We were all holed-up in Big Red so I could nurse him before we continued our errands, and Elias just couldn't stay focused. I know he was hungry, but there was so much to see and hear that he kept popping up and down like a groundhog. Enough popping and eventually you foam the milk, which apparently needed a pressure release. Wha-la! Instant milk-bath for mommy! I'm sure I would have paid a fortune for such treatment at a spa.

My shoulders and back have water spots from the thunderstorm I was caught in at Camp Manatawny while helping Shelby and Dawson check in for their week-end retreat. It is Dawson's first time and he was nervous that he wouldn't know anyone and, as he doesn't make friends easily, he was concerned he would spend much of the weekend alone. I said my goodbyes and walked far enough away that he wouldn't see me double back where I stood in the rain with lightening bolts flashing around me as he hesitantly made his way over to the basketball courts where several boys were already playing. Of course, as the rain became heavier the game was surrendered to the weather and they were beginning to scatter. I watched with baited breath as several of the boys ran past Dawson while he stood there in his hoodie, hands in his pockets, watching. The rain was cold and hard, but I just couldn't bring myself to walk away until I saw one boy walk over to Dawson and extend his hand. They ran off toward Garrett Hall together.

My left side has a smear of pizza sauce from rough-housing with a friend's kiddos while she took a business call. I was threatening to kiss the boys goodnight and they implied I was too old to catch them anyway. Of course, never one to back down from such an open invitation, I attacked and won quite handily. However, as they we eating at the time, I did receive a pizza wound.

My Right Shoulder has chocolate blobs from tucking Abigail in bed. She hadn't been sleeping well when I came home from taking Shelby and Dawson to camp, and so I brought her downstairs with me for a little quiet time and a treat. The two of us, along with Isabelle, munched on some Snickers snack bars and talked about our day. I carried the exhausted Abigail upstairs with her warm head nestled on my shoulder. The smell of her freshly washed hair completely the masked the unwashed chocolate face. I did wash her face before laying her down, but it wasn't in time to save the shirt.

Now, my shirt is covered in goopy Shout (which we buy by the gallon) waiting to be washed with the morning load of laundry. Poor thing had a full day. I'm just glad I was there to share it.