Why I don’t do “What I Wore Sunday”

So we get to the First Communion preparation workshop, which is *sigh* somewhat earlier than I’m used to getting up on Sundays. But I did all the things, I went on my treadmill, I took a shower, I even put mascara on. The kid is wearing underwear under her dress and shoes that match (each other, I mean. Not the underwear). We are a little groggy, but definitely pulling this off.

We settle into our seats and wait patiently for our felt and our glue and our wheat templates. While I’m thinking wistfully about the second cup of coffee I never had, I notice there’s something wrong with my shirt cuff. One sleeve is much higher than the other, and I can’t figure out why. I try to fix it, and discover that I have put  my hand not through the end of the sleeve, but through a hole in the elbow.

I surreptitiously try to scoot my hand up out of the hole and where it belongs, and it makes a loud r-r-r-r-r-r-rip! Which probably nobody else noticed, but still I can’t help feeling like I’m wearing a huge sign that says “DURRRR, HOW DO I SHIRT?”

So I decide to fold it over and hope no one notices. At which point I realize that the buttonhole part is rapidly separating itself from the rest of the shirt. 

Apparently I’m a hobo. And there is a dead dog on my kitchen floor, which is clean.  This is what it looks like when it’s clean.  As far as this morning goes, I only hope that the other parents had an edifying day as they beheld the generosity of the Church, who offers her sacraments to all peoples, be they black, or be they white, or be they whatever. And that includes people who do not know how to shirt.

  • Kate Cousino

    My 9 year old cracked up over “How do I shirt?” :-D

  • ModerateMom17

    FWIW I’m glad you don’t do WIWS, and it’s not because you don’t know how to shirt.

  • Michelle

    I’m grateful one of you main Catholic mom bloggers doesn’t do WIWS. I love the “don’t know how to shirt” LOL!

  • Amy Brents

    You have me beat. My kids almost never wear underwear.

  • http://californiatokorea.com/ Micaela

    Oh,Simcha. You and me both, sister. Thanks for the laugh. ‘How do I shirt?’ = Best noun-to-verb switch I’ve seen all week. I needed that laugh after reading the com box on your most recent Register article. (WHEN WILL I EVER LEARN?!?! Apparently, never.)

  • Rosie Hill

    Oh this made me laugh :) I was getting ready for Mass a few months back and realized the zipper on my skirt was broken… I tried to get the skirt off, but it was WAY too broken and high-waisted, so I just wore it anyway and held my arm reeeeeeeally close on that side and refused to pick any children up. Yikes. I think I need to keep some sarongs in the car or something for situations just such as this.

  • Suzanne Emery Andrews

    Poor Simcha! Almost this exact thing happened to my sister when she was staying with us for a business meeting in our town, and of course, nothing I have is her size–especially shirts.

  • DeirdreMundy

    WIWS is a thing? I must be reading the wrong blogs on the wrong days! I realized around kid #4 that I could EITHER make myself pretty for Mass and show up really late with undressed kids, or I could get everyone else out the door on time and show up looking like someone who needs to go on “What Not to Wear.” So that’s what I do… because sheesh, they’re all looking at the baby anyway- as long as my shoes match, I’ll be fine!

  • Lydia

    My “faux wrap” dress ripped right down the ol’ chest today during mass in a very tiny chapel, right under the nose of our new, elderly ordinariate priest. I finagled a safety pin and managed not to flash anyone.

  • Melissa Hunter-Kilmer

    Everybody else hit the main points, so I have to ask—is Boomer really dead on the kitchen floor? Not really, right? Right???? :’-(

    • simchafisher

      Oh, no no! Sorry. He’s just worn out from .. . whatever it is he does. He’s fine and healthy.

      • Melissa Hunter-Kilmer

        Whew!

  • http://outsidetheautisticasylum.blogspot.com/ Theodore Seeber

    One time in the middle of Mass my son tried to climb on me (something about his special needs has him *still* climbing on me at age 10) and he put his foot in between the buttons and tore my shirt. Luckily that day I was wearing a tie.

  • anna lisa

    Hahahah, and your readers think you are capable of calmly examining a costume malfunction with a dead dog on the floor.

  • anna lisa

    We had two confirmations last weekend, one Saturday, the other Sunday. My niece’s on Saturday had 200 confirmati for the mass in English and another 100 for the following mass in Spanish (Do you know how long that took??). On Sunday, the day of my nephew’s confirmation, we hung out in bed too long. I needed to arrange a cheese plate that I signed up for, and I forgot to tell my 9th grader that I’d signed up the two of us to help to set up the reception. Getting him out of bed early was like performing dental surgery. Then I remembered with horror that I couldn’t foist his older brother, the 17 yo off on his grandparents (to bring him to a later mass), because *they* would be at the confirmation too! Dur, dur dur. So he ended up being the bomb in my morning. I’d pulled everything off except for him. We sat in the car, with the engine idling, and watched the clock turn 9:30, the start of mass. I felt that small exploding feeling, gathering energy in my chest. As it began escaping in small strangled noises, and my knuckles turned a shade of white, my husband actually sat still and said, “just let this be an opportunity to practice patience.”…!!! (what the…)
    We got to the front of the church, and spilled out onto the sidewalk. My husband took the cheese plate, put it on the dashboard, and said he’d park it, and the car. COWARD! I was left with the task of finding seats where none could be found. I watched with despair from the back of the church as people in small groups squeezed in. There we stood. The poster family for birth control. Mortified, the 17 yo, took off without saying a word, and sat with another family.

  • irena mangone

    You are a gem Simcha.

  • Loved As If

    I love your deconstructed shirt. Just call it avant-garde. I do that all the time & am considered stylish, fashionable even. I forget to iron both sleeves, put my tops on backwards, discover holes and stains. And I have no excuse. Not one child. Not even a fish any longer. (A few plants that I forget to water – it’s not that hot yet.)

  • http://annieemuller.blogspot.com/ Annie Muller

    Once, while in mass I was wearing one of those knee-length maxi skirts, wearing my 4 month old in a front carrier, and holding my 20 month old on my hip when my 3 year old started tugging to get my attention….he tugged and tugged until that sad, no-real-waist-band-of-a skirt just pulled right down to my ankles (no my 20-month-old did NOTHING to stop it!). Of course the worst part is that I had decided to wear a THONG that day….so we gave someone a pre-consecration prayer they will never forget. I excused myself, hid in the bathroom for the rest of mass, and then made my way quickly to the big white van to make my escape.

  • Mom2Teens

    Yes, and you still don’t have teenagers yet. You haven’t lived until you’ve lived through them!

  • Sheila Connolly

    This happens to me almost every Sunday. During the homily, we’re all sitting there, my eyes start to wander around (oops) and that’s when I notice …. a huge stain on my skirt, ripped hem on my shirt, missing button somewhere (how did I notice when I was buttoning?), those doofy little bows on my ballet flats aren’t tied, my pregnant belly is making my shirt gap at the buttons, WHATEVER. And that’s despite the ten minutes of angst every Sunday morning as I tear the closet apart wailing to my husband, “Why can’t I just wear a shirt and tie like yooooooou? Why is there no skirt that matches my boots and the it’s too cold to wear dress shooooooes?” I hate getting dressed up for Sundays. I hope no one looks at me in church. They’ll think I’m homeless.

  • June1111

    Simcha… is that a SKIRT you’re wearing? ;)


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