On Jammy Pants and Our Momrades in Need

Sep 30 2015

Whenever I use the word pants, I am reminded by my British friends that it doesn’t mean the same thing in American as it does in English; Americans, of course, referring to their trousers when they say pants, and the Brits referencing the pants they wear underneath their trousers. Underpants, if you will.

I received, for example, this missive from my British friend, Fiona, earlier this very month:

So this morning, perhaps unwisely, I entrusted the task of dressing the four-year-old for school to my husband, having previously fulfilled my side of the bargain by laying out socks, underwear, a shirt, trousers and his school sweatshirt in order that the process ran as smoothly as possible.

Upon arriving home, while we were gathered around the table enjoying a post-school snack and drink, he suddenly dropped his trousers and announced “No pants!” Now I do realise that the word “pants” means something slightly different to the two of us – you are perhaps envisaging him only half clothed from the waist down yet still wearing a small garment to protect his modesty, and while in reality the semi-nakedness was rather less obvious since he was wearing American pants although not English pants, I’m still rather disheartened by the thought that he could possibly have spent all day at school in a commando state. My reputation with his new teacher, a rather serious lady, may be in jeopardy here through no fault of my own. 
It’s not impossible that he did PE today and absent-mindedly removed more clothes than necessary, but I know exactly which pair of English pants I put out for him this morning, and if I find them later, lurking in the laundry basket buried beneath the myriad clean clothes I predictably haven’t yet put away, I will know precisely who to hold responsible. Any ideas for a suitable penalty?
Now, I haven’t responded to Fiona, of course, because a) I’ve turned into a terrible correspondent of late, and b) I’m not sure how to break the news that, no matter the penalty, it may be a while before her son learns to wear pants. There is, after all, a certain girl child I know (*ahem*myself*ahem*) who has vivid memories of her mother holding her wee little face in her hands, looking deep into her eyes, and demanding, “When will you learn to wear panties, child? WHEN?” Alarmingly, the answer for that little girl was “not until the 3rd grade when she didn’t wear panties with her dress on Flip Up Friday,” and the boys, true to their word, flipped up her dress. So, you know, some people learn to wear undies before others. And some get caught on Flip Up Friday. Other than that, I don’t know what to tell you, Fi.

All of which is an extremely length way to tell you I like to use the word pants because it makes the 12-year-old in me giggle every time. When I wrote “On Jammy Pants” just now? The 12-year-old boy guffawed at, well, undies with jam on them, which is something the likes of me would write about but has, in the end, nothing whatsoever to do with this post.

Alas, this post is about pajama pants (what do you Brits call these, anyway? pyjama trousers? drawers? bottoms?), and my quest for the perfect pair.

Good news!

Thanks to you, I’ve found them! The perfect jammy pants.

In August, I asked you on the Facebook to help me out.

Question of Eternal Significance: If you have pajama bottoms you love, where did you buy them? I’m on the hunt and I need your help.

P.S. By “hunt,” I mean I’m reaching out to you sans any hunting on my own because you know things I don’t know and I’m hoping “really, really ridiculously good sources of PJ pants” is one of those things.

P.P.S. In case you’re wondering if I REALLY need your secret, insider info, I’m DEFINITELY on a need-to-know basis here because the rather enormous and socially hazardous inner thigh holes in my previous PJ pants finally made it apparent I needed stop torturing the pants and give them up for dead.

P.P.P.S. RIP, pants. I loved you, loved you.

P.P.P.P.S. I prefer shopping online, which is probably best at this point anyway since I’ll be shopping without pants. Links appreciated.

FullSizeRender (5)You had about a hundred good suggestions, but the one that got me was the post about Punjammies from Sudara.

Listen, friends; listen! THIS IS SO AWESOME. Sudara is an organization that works to free women from sex slavery by giving them living wage jobs, and “every pair of PUNJAMMIES™ is named after a woman who is now steadily employed in a stable, living-wage job with a Sudara sewing center partnership.

I know, right??

So.

In case you’re interested, here are the details:

  1. I agonized over this purchase because punjammies are expensive. At $44/pair, WAY, WAY more expensive than my usual jammies. I had to have a little heart-to-heart with myself, honestly; in the end, I decided I was willing to buy ONE pair of jammy pants from Sudara instead of, like, 4 from Target. I’m a little embarrassed this wasn’t a no-brainer for me, but there it is.
  2. I picked the black and white Soyamma print because they were sold out of the blue ones I liked better. You know what? Good for them! Way to make a high-demand product, ladies. Go, you!FullSizeRender (1)^^Me, in my pants!^^
  3. When I ordered, though, they let me know my pants could take up to 3 weeks to arrive. THREE WEEKS, friends. I was all, don’t they realize I’m American and we’re an Instant Gratification people?? Serious first world problems, folks. But I’d made my decision already, so I proceeded with my order, knowing I’d be pantsless in the meantime.
  4. My order arrived in five days. Just FIVE DAYS! WOOHOO!
  5. I tried them on… and LOVE them.

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In the end? I’m glad I went this jammy pants direction, despite the cost and my patriotic fear of delayed gratification.

FullSizeRender (4)My pants are soft.

My pants are pretty.

My pants make a difference in the lives of our fellow momrades.

That, friends, is a win/win/win.

And Fi? May you have hope. Someday your son may learn to wear pants AND post about it on the internet. 😉

With love,

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P.S. I recently discovered there’s a home business that specializes in fair trade products, too. Just FYI! It’s called Friends of Hope, and fellow momrade and friend of the 5 Kids blog, Jennifer Heyboer can tell you all about it if you’d like more info.

P.P.S. Neither Sudara nor My Friends of Hope/Jennifer Heyboer paid me or asked me for any endorsements here. I didn’t receive any goods or services. Sudara has no idea who I am. I just like their pants, man. And their program. And especially their pants.

P.P.P.S. If you, like me, buy punjammies, size up! I ordered a full size larger than I actually am because I like my jammy pants loose. They fit exactly right, if a tad snug around the waist, so I’d recommend ordering up a size. Also, I’m short — 5’2″ — and the full-length pants are a little long on me, which I also like, but you other shorties might want to consider the capris, instead.