Welcome to our Monday guest post series on Parenting and Imperfection.
Today, I’m very pleased to introduce you to Jacoba Alderink, the writer behind A Yankee Mom in Texas. I love Jacoba because, in short, she cracks me up. She tags her posts things like “Questionable Parenting,” “Spawn of Satan” and “Unseemly Confessions.” And she writes about gonorrhea. So, you know; what’s not to love?
I hope you enjoy Jacoba’s light-hearted look at Parenting and Imperfection.
Passport Mug Shot
by Jacoba Alderink
I like my t-shirts like I like my kids: not clingy. I like to eat a normal-sized meal and walk around with the ability to exhale without making everyone’s eyes spontaneously bleed.
My husband’s idea of a nice shirt for me is, in essence, toddler- sized. Rob likes to buy shirts for me that look like they’ve been shrink-wrapped right onto my post-baby, gravity-afflicted, post-breastfeeding form. (I know. We’re all sorry for that visual.) So while I’m returning his XS gift and swapping it out for a comfy M, I’m warning him to stay away from purchasing anything for the kids.
Kids? Well, kids come with this highly complicated sizing system. They usually wear a size that corresponds to their age.
Me: I know. Simple as that.
Rob, his mind blown: Why haven’t you ever told me this??
Me: I did, the last time you ordered Minnesota Vikings shirts for the kids – when was that? Last week?
So of course, when Rob went on a business trip to Vegas, due to complex sizing system confusion, he came back with a 5T shirt for my 2-year-old son. On top of everything, the t-shirt was one of those neon orange Las Vegas County Jail numbers, which my husband thought would be a knee-slapper on a little innocent-looking peanut of a boy. I, on the other hand, wasn’t thoroughly convinced of the hilarity.
Rob: C’mon! It’s funny!
Me: Kind of… It’s a jail shirt. And it’s huge. Did you get him some saggy pants, too?
Rob: It’s classic. Plus, I couldn’t remember what size he was.
Me, flabbergasted: ………
So I tucked that shirt into the back of my son’s drawer, occasionally brushing off Rob’s inquiries as to its whereabouts. And then one morning my son came down with it in hand, asking to wear it. I hesitated for a moment, thinking, It’s Monday – no preschool, no Bible study, no public errands to run…maybe we can get through this unscathed.
And then I went to a doctor’s appointment and left the kids with Rob.
And Rob took the kids to get their passport photos taken.
This post originally appeared at A Yankee Mom in Texas.
Jacoba Alderink, a born-and-bred Midwesterner with degrees in English and art secondary education, resides in Texas with her quirky husband and two underwear-clad kids. A stay-at-home mom and part-time homeschool teacher, she blogs at A Yankee Mom in Texas, littering her unseemly confessions and absurd musings with sub-par illustrations and pointless observations. When she’s not writing, she’s either failing miserably as a parent or cleaning up the cat vomit piles drying randomly around her house.
You can see all of the Parenting and Imperfection posts here.