No, Panties!

Last night Bean and I went to Wal Mart and I bought (among a LOT of other things) some panties. Fancy ones with lace that say "Princess" and "Sweetheart." I love them. Anyway, as we were gathering the bags to take inside I dropped a pair on the ground and said, "No, Panties!"
Bean's eyes got really big and she hissed, "Mother! We are in public! Stop saying 'no panties'!"
"But!" I retrieved my panties from the ground and held them up as evidence, "I wasn't saying 'no panties,' I was saying 'NO' to my panties who wanted to be on the ground."
"Mother!" She squeeked, "You will stop saying 'panties' until we are inside the house! We have neighbors!!"
I didn't tell her that our neighbors have heard a LOT worse than "panties" and sometimes it's coming from inside the house. I worry that they'll get the wrong idea and call the police or something.
"Panties," I said, because I am a grown up. "Panties, panties, panties, panties."
"And stop talking to your panties, Mother. It's weird."
She's got me there.
Several people I know have been taking advice from their pants. Good advice, too, like "Hey exercise!" and "No more snacking!"
My pants are falling down today, so clearly they are saying, "Take me off and find some jammies, girl! You need to rest more!"
Why yes, pants, I believe you're right.
"And also, keep eating those Girl Scout Cookies and there will be no more falling down."
But pants, shouldn't I just wear a belt?
"Belt Schmelt, eat the damn cookies."

I think my pants are in cahoots with my tummy.

Funny that my pants speak so clearly when the messages from my head are so mixed.

I want to be left alone. I want quiet and no movement. No stimulus. Nothing. A big blank sphere of empty.
I also want people around me who need me and love me and want to be around to take care of me and let me take care of them. And I want there to be laughing and crying and all of the messy life stuff.

What is restorative? What is draining? I sometimes feel like if I have to interact with another person I will be rendered mute. Like I have nothing at all left to say to anyone. (Of course that's a crock of shit, because all I have inside me are words).
And sometimes there is a little break in my day - instant messaging a friend or an impromptu lunch that fuels me in ways that isolation never could.

Oh good, something else to struggle to balance.

My pants say that balance is overrated and also could I please stop buying the fabric softener with the flowers on it. They apparently like the bear.

So this morning, faced with a basket of clean panties I pulled out the pair that says "Princess" (because I am and I like when that is recognized, so they are my favorites) and Bean said, "No, wear the "Sweetheart" ones, they go better with your bra."
"Bean, nobody's going to even see that."
"You never know, mom," she smiled, "you might get into an accident!"