Mom jeans, and other fashion faux pas’

Well, it’s actually happened.  I’ve turned yet another corner in parenthood.

Here in our small Midwest town we are superiorly blessed to have, not one, but several very nice second-hand shops.  I’m a true re-purposed human being, (even my dog is a rescue), so my children were likewise brought up in this frugal practice.

Recently, my eldest called from the West coast, where prices are not q-u-i-t-e as judicious has here at home, and wondered if I could look for a few things, including jeans.  But not just any style.  She was specifically requesting—are you ready?? (I just so love this!)—“MOM” jeans.  Yes!  High-waisted, the kind I used be to chided for a decade or two ago. 

Hoosier yer folks?

When I was “back home again in Indiana”, (and, if you’re a native Hoosier, you’re probably familiar with that song, even though no one seems to know where “Hoosier” itself comes from)…anyway, when I was back home again in Indiana just last weekend to see the folks, I was helping them consolidate to move into their new apartment. 

Both of them are your typical Builder-Gen—responsible, frugal, forward-thinking, hard-working.  Nothing is to be assumed, (Dad taught me how to spell “assume”—it makes an “ass out of u and me”), and nothing is to be taken for granted.  Gratitude is a chosen attitude, and God’s will and wisdom are superior to mine. 

Yes, I know not to put my folks a pedestal, and I don’t.  But let’s be real; not everyone has had parents like mine.

So while I’m helping Dad recuperate from a knee problem across the street in a separate facility, Mom and my sis (who is local—thank God!) are sorting, organizing, and packing and sweating, with Dad and I out of the way. 

Mom did request, bless her heart, that my brother and I go through Dad’s old financial records (V-E-R-Y old) before she takes them to the shredder, not because