PSA

Okay friends, it’s getting nearer to that time of year.  Weather is getting warmer, days are getting longer, spring break is right around the corner, back porches are calling.  School days are beginning to dwindle down for the school term, as is the structure that marks the first of the school year.  Everyone is feeling a little bit tired, a little bit giddy about the upcoming break from the alarm clock, and a little bit more relaxed with the schedules.  I’m getting there myself.

Especially when I just realized we are about to spring forward this weekend.  Insert snooze emoji here.

Which brings me to my first ever PSA* on the blog.

*PSA- Parrish Service Announcement

This is free advice that is priceless for you but comes at a high expense from yours truly.  You’re welcome.

As I woke up late this morning, like OMGhurryeatapieceofbreaddoyouhaveonunderwear-nodontbrushyourteethI’llgiveyouapeppermintinthecarwheresyourbookbag,

I did pause long enough to clothe all of MYself– ALL of myself– prior to jumping in the car to begin my unpaid uber job of the day and praying that there were no policemen to ticket me for pausing at the STOP signs I’d encounter on the way to take the kids to school. Please, I back the blue most of the time.

Why would I even give you that detail about dressing myself? Isn’t that what most sane people do when they leave their houses in the morning?

Most do.  I didn’t one time.  (that I’m willing to share)

Rewind to around this time last year.  I had overslept, was in a Claritin coma, running late for school (which is pretty much every day, you side-eyers, I know), and was getting lackadaisical in the carpool uniform department.  My typical yoga pants/t-shirt/sports bra/Ugg boots (because I’m basic and I’m ok with that) fatigues had slowly transitioned to muumuus and flip-flops with a hoodie on top to tie the outfit all together (WHY ARE YOU JUDGING ME?).

I had successfully gotten all kids out of their beds (though not necessarily awake), and dressed, and fed (breakfast cookies, yes they are a thing and they have FIBER), and rushed out of the door and buckled in to their seatbelts because safety.  They were dropped off  at school with 36 seconds to spare for the tardy bell because there are no tardies on my watch.  (I’m just as shocked, you people!)  I’m responsible like that.

But y’all.

Cruising home childless listening to my iTunes (because who doesn’t love T.I. and Cardi B. with some Hillsong mixed in at 8 AM–I am MUSICALLY deft, y’all), coffee cup in hand, ready to kick the day in the teeth, feeling like I am one accomplished woman, I notice a car in my periphery that is going to run the stop sign of the two-way stop that is literally four houses down from mine.  All I could think was OMGI’mabouttobehitpleaseLorddon’tletmebehitOMGfortheloveofallthebeautifulthings-

I.HAVE.NO.BRA.ON.andamwearingamuumuupleasedon’thitme

(But, I had crunched a peppermint. Score one in the win column.)

Boom.

Just little boom.  My car’s side end was bumped, and bad enough that I knew I had to get out to look at it.  Dadgummit.  In my starfish patterned muumuu (thanks, mom, I love it!).  With a hoodie on top.  And no bra.

Satan is real, y’all.

Bless it to pieces, the precious doe-eyed doll that hit me was in a hurry to get to her senior games at her school and was running late and was trying to make it in time and this is where I understand the concept of grace and me toooo, sister, me too.  Surveying the damage after ensuring she was fine, I thought about calling the police for a police report.  But because I am smart, I thought better, and called my husband first and said:

there’sbeenanaccidentI’malivebutcanyoupleasebringmesomeunderpinnings?–

I’mjustafewhousesdown kthanksbye yesyouheardmeUNDERFREAKINGGARMENTS

And: Oh…yeah…I’ll call the police next.  After you show up with Victoria’s Secret.

Luckily, he was my knight in shining honor before the police arrived on the scene or I might have been ticketed with indecent exposure.  I was still indecent, sans exposure, if we aren’t counting my make-up less face (that is another PSA in the works coming out around Halloween time).  Insurance info, addresses, a ticket, and some eye contact avoidance later, we all went on about our day.  Some more scarred than others, some with whiplash in places that doesn’t usually occur with proper restraint.

Yes.  PROPER RESTRAINT.

So, this has been quite a long elaboration with a moral that can be summed up in a sentence.

Wear the bra, sisters.

Wear the bra.

Until next time, friends.  oxxo