MomTogs! Get Your MomTogs Here!

Hey! I almost had a clothing line to sell at the counter of my proposed handbasket factory! With a kick-butt design to use for my logo. Mrs. Hillbilly Mom's Togs. MomTog for short.

Yes, these clothes would be comfy and durable. Suitable for pairing with your favorite Crocs.

Here's the deal. I have an old sweatshirt, cerulean blue, as precious as my Crocs. It is big and baggy, even on the not-small and not-taut Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. I wear it down to my dark basement lair in the winter. And as of late, out to the garage and into T-Hoe and inside my classroom at Newmentia. That's where I draw the line. CB has to wait for me in the cabinet until after school. Our dress code is lax, but not THAT lax.

Wednesday night, the #1 son's last supper, I made a Chef Boyardee pizza. The boys love it, the deep dish version, #1 with hamburger topping, and The Pony with only the powdered Parmesan from the package. Farmer H likes it too, though often the boys refuse to share. This night, they did. I set aside some of the hamburger and made myself a giant burrito. I don't like that taco seasoning on the meat when we have real tacos. So this was the perfect opportunity to get my way.

Oh, what a giant burrito it was! Hamburger, cheddar, salsa, onion, lettuce, and sour cream. I laid that soft tortilla on a piece of foil and wrapped it up like a baby in aluminum foil. That thing wasn't going to wet on me. So delicious. I peeled back the foil as needed to devour every morsel. It was a fine dining experience, with only myself as a table companion, the guys having gone their separate ways with their deep dish once I cut it into squares and wrangled it out of the glass 9 x 13 Pyrex pan.

Ahh...so satisfying. So tasty, my giant burrito. WAIT A MINUTE! What's that? I looked down at my ample cerulean blue chest, and saw a comet tail of salsa juice. From the left shoulder, in a curved line down to the center of my boobage.

Woe was Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She needed that sweatshirt to fend off the cold Thursday morning. She was cutting it close enough, wearing a CLEAN ratty sweatshirt into the school building. So...off to the laundry room before bed at 1:00 a.m. I tossed CB into the washer with some of The Pony's pants slacks and underwear. The laundry did not get completely done last weekend, due to my mom's unfortunate hospitalization. I figured I could toss that load into the dryer at 5:00 a.m., and have CB ready to hit the road at 6:30.

Imagine my chagrin when I pulled CB out of the washer and saw the stain still there. Back in went CB, with a load of towels for companionship. I jammed in the control knob to let CB soak in the Tide With Bleach for 90 minutes. Not wearing him this morning, but he'd be ready for Friday if I tossed him in the dryer right as we went out the door. Of course when I picked him out of the washer drum after the ensuing normal cycle, soaking wet, he still had that comet tail. I gave up. Tossed him in the dryer. Sometimes you gotta wear a stained baggy sweatshirt.

Friday morning, I figured that as long as I put my coat on over CB on the way into Newmentia, no harm, no foul. Nobody would be able to see my comet tail.

Imagine my surprise when The Pony said, on his way out of my classroom to his locker, "I don't see any stain." Granted, The Pony IS near-sighted. But I took a gander at my chest, and saw nothing. I mean no comet. Where it went, I'll never know.

I have my cerulean blue buddy back again. Feels so right.