A Multi-Faceted Wake-Up Call

I belong to the Sisterhood of the Polar Bear Pants. The pants were a Christmas gift from my sister-in-law, Georgia. They are thermal cotton with a polar bear print and are the most comfortable pajama pants I’ve ever worn. They came with a matching shirt that had one polar bear across the chest. I ditched that, thinking I didn’t need one more thing calling attention to my lack of family endowment.

The polar bears, adorned with little, blue and green scarves, are precariously placed. Yes. My polar bear pants have big, white bears coming out my—backside. My husband, Mr. Man, pointed this out in a much more direct fashion. “Hey Gret, did ya know there are polar bears comin’ out yer arss?” Truth be told, they’re coming and going. Even my children snicker behind me. That won’t dissuade me, I still wear them.

I received another nice gift in May of 2007. The kids were so excited. I was blindfolded and led to the backyard. As I removed the blindfold, they lowered a metal, window ladder from a 2nd story bedroom. Each took turns climbing out the window and down to safety. A successful fire drill as a Mother’s Day gift. If “the time” ever came, we would be ready.

I was especially thankful for that present last winter when Mr. Man and I awoke to the screaming sound of our home smoke detectors. We were both out of bed in half a heartbeat! Quick! Get the kids. Do we smell smoke? Why are ALL the detectors going off at once? Why can’t we smell anything? Call 9-1-1! Why won’t they shut off? Check the attic!

Within minutes a truck rolled up and four firefighters fanned out through the house like a swat team. In less than 90 seconds, the smoke detectors stopped. Silence. Beautiful, silence.

As I stood with the kids in the living room, I watched as the firemen descended our stairs. Oh! My! Greek God! In all the commotion, I hadn’t noticed these guys were HOT. I know. It was 3am. But, I recognize drop-dead gorgeous when I see it! I was having my own little moment, basking in their presence, when I checked to see if my teenage daughter saw…what I saw. Nope. That was good. For the record, Mr. Man didn’t notice their overwhelming good looks either. That was good too.

There I was, doing my basking. When all of the sudden I realized something very bad. I had on an old, ratty sleep shirt and my POLAR BEAR PANTS! “Gretchen, keep eye contact and maybe all four of them won’t look down at your polar bear pants,” I thought.
Maybe I could backup slowly, to the back of the couch and they wouldn’t be able to see what was coming or going.

No. Eye contact is the best plan.

Mr. Man was deep in conversation with the leader of the hunky firefighters when I heard “dusty.” What? I’m keeping eye contact with the Adonis firefighters…trying to maintain my cool and the leader of the hunk machine is telling me I have a DUSTY HOUSE? Yep. Well, at least dusty detectors. That's what caused them to go off in the middle of the night.

So, to save you from being in the same predicament—less the polar bear pants, remember this autumn when we “fall back” change your smoke detector batteries and dust those little suckers! (Originally published: Eagle Independent / October 2008)
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Follow-up to last months, “What’s in a Name?” My sister’s family settled on “Huey” (as in Hefner). It suits him. The Bichon stud already takes his job seriously!