Half-clothed and surprised and sprinklous is she

Turnabout's fair play
Originally uploaded by khosey1

If I've learned anything in my year in this apartment complex -- other than the sound and gender (don't ask) of every stray cat, the sound neighbors make while fighting/making dinner/making love/taking a dump, or the fact that a mugger might take out my trash for me (old story, but you can ask; I'll tell that one soon) -- it's that if one is going to stand in one's living room, in a bra and with a face covered in baking confections, flipping channels and watching SpongeBob SquarePants with one's son; one ought to first close the blinds.

But let me back up. My life, as most of you likely know, revolves around a small set of activities. Playing with my son, going out in nature with my husband and son, and reporting on playing with my son and going out in nature with my family. That pretty much covers it. (I have the coolest job(s) ever, no?) So the other day when my son helped with the decorations while baking, I had to take a picture. He was a perfect model, of course. But he decided the next day that it was my turn to model for him. Not one to copy the pose, I plastered the sugary (and quickly-dissolving-into-paste, I soon discovered) sprinkles on my face and struck a pose for him, as you see above.

After allowing him to take a series of shots, the sprinkles were turning into rainbow goo on my face, which wasn't nearly as bad as the ones at my hairline, which had turned into this paper-maché-feeling goop of hair and water and sugar. I decided it would be a good time for a shower, and headed toward the bathroom, pulling my shirt off. David stopped me here, complaining that SpongeBob was starting on another channel and if he didn't catch it right now, life as we know it would surely end. I walked back out in a bra, which was a big, huge, sports bra number, comfortable and about as revealing as many shirts, so I didn't worry. But, it was clearly a bra, and it was at this moment, in this state -- wearing a red bra, gooey sugar sprinkles covering my face, hair wet and sticking up like antennae from my forehead, remote in hand and myself catching the first minutes of SpongeBob ("Patrick, I'm gonna blow the biggest bubble ever") that I remembered I had earlier opened the blinds and window to let in some air. The window looks directly into our living room, and of course it was at that moment that my neighbor walked by and did a double-take, and a triple-take, and a what-the-hell-take, before shrugging and walking into the laundry room.

I was scrubbed clean, and clothed, when she returned to fetch her clothes. I waved, and she waved back. But she looked pretty uncertain.

I'm baking a pie in a few. I think I'll remain clothed and unsprinkled today.

But you know what? David loves the picture. And that makes it more than worth it.

(Yeah, I'm getting cornball. I'm a mom, and it's Thanksgiving tomorrow. Give me a break.)