There comes a point in every mom's life where she needs to get out of the house. After a day of dealing with a late husband, spam calls from various window companies and my dog's ear oozing with some biological warfare, I decided that today was the day.

I was standing in my bedroom half dressed when my youngest walked in, unannounced, of course. Watcha dewin mommy, cleaning out the closet in your underwears?
Nope, I'm getting dressed to go out.
Out? she asked, puzzled. You go out Mommy?

I'm going out with a few friends, I said, as I started tugging my jeans on. The usually breezy tug seemed to stall somewhere between the thigh bone and the hipbone.

Do you need help Mommy..I'm strong. I can lift up Ben and he's the fattest boy in my class..

No I got it sweetie.. I hopped over to the bed, pants around my thighs, threw myself down face first and started tugging. When that wasn't successful, I flipped over, raised my legs in the air and pulled downward. I started twisting my hips and thrusting upward simultaneously. Houdini never pulled these contortions off. I was like Olga Korbit on an acid trip.

My daughter plopped on the bed, watching with interest. Maybe those pants don't fit you anymore mommy?

I glared. THESE pants have fit me since 1990 except for the time I was pregnant with YOU, I said..and then I wore them anyway but with the zipper open.

As I continued my struggle, wondering where my husband's shoe horn was, my daughter suddenly flipped the shade up on the bedroom window, hoisted open the window, and yelled..

HELLO MRS DRISCALE! ITs me VICKI! I'm here in the bedroom helping MOMMY cause she can't get her pants on even though they fit her since 1990 and--

CLOSE THE WINDOW, Victoria, I said, mortified.

Well, sheesh..I was just trying to help. She walked sadly out of the room, but not before removing my two teddy bears from the bed, dragging them by the arms out the door.

I gave up. I held the offending jeans in my hand and then opened the window again, throwing them outside in disgust. It was time for a shopping spree anyway. Out with the old, and in with... the wider.

Maybe 2000 will be a better fit.

Author's Bio: 

Angela Barbeisch is the author of the Mom Diva on a Rant humor columns, found at her websites, http://www.allparody.com and http://www.humorcolumns.com. She is a married mom of two, freelance writer and has been published in Parenting Humor, Parenting Today's Teens, Zinos, and The Christian Science Monitor. When she isn't writing, she's keeping in shape so she doesn't have to keep throwing clothes out the window.