Mortified Monday

Playing along with American in Norway, I'll present to you an embarrassing story from my past. Really, there are so many to chose from. I'm always doing something ditzy, or silly, or, well, embarrassing. Gotta keep my blog not-R rated, so that eliminates some of my stories. Plus, I know my mom is reading ;)

So, here it is, one of my many embarrassing moments:

Let me set the stage. I was in eleventh grade, kind of geeky, and sitting through Physics class. Our teacher was also the football coach. He got a phone call in the middle of class, and asked us, "Is anyone in [insert cute football star's name here]'s class next period?" Cute Football Star was...cute...a football star...and a senior.

What do I do, I mumble, in what I thought was under my breath, "I wish!"

Everyone heard it.

That's pretty embarrassing, right?

It gets worse.

My teacher thought it was so funny, he told Cute Football Star, and the rest of the football team who happened to be around, about it at practice that afternoon.

Yes, I got a little bit of teasing about that. And I blushed every time I saw Cute Football Star in the hall after that.

Okay, so that's not *too* mortifying, but it was pretty embarrassing at the time!

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Expect a drop in teenage pregnancies...

...at least in the north Boston suburbs.

I took the boys out for bagels for lunch. By myself. That doesn't sound like that big a deal. All of you who know me know that I'll bring my boys pretty much anywhere, at least once. They're pretty well behaved for the most part, so I'm really lucky that I have a reasonable amount of freedom in where we can go.

I had no worries about going to the bagel store. We've gone there many times. Usually on a weekend with TK, but a few times by ourselves.

We got to the bagel store, and I don't know if it was because it was right at the beginning of summer vacation, or if I just showed up at the wrong time, but the bagel store was PACKED with high school students from one of the local high schools. The line to buy bagels was out the door.

Again, I wasn't worried. The boys do fine waiting in line and we were kind of early for their lunch anyway so I wasn't worried about them being too hungry while we waited.

These bagels are really good. I thought I better clarify that point right away so you wouldn't all be thinking: "Why didn't she just leave?" Okay, back to the story.

So we're waiting in line. High school kids to the front of us, high school kids to the back. I was stuck in the middle with twins.

Who were a bit crazy.

They were in a good mood. Which was nice. But, if there is such a thing, they were in TOO good a mood. They were practically hyper, which anyone who knows my laid-back boys knows that isn't something I normally have to worry about. And certainly not both of them hyper at the same time!

They were running around in different directions. They were trying to open doors, trying to run behind the counter, climbing on chairs (at other people's tables), grabbing other girls mistakenly thinking these young women, who I'm sure just *loved* being confused for a 30-something-year old mom, were me. They were running in different directions. And they were totally ignoring me, in such a good-natured happy way that it was hard to get too mad at them.

I looked harried. The recent lack of sleep is taking a toll. I had no makeup on (a common occurrence, but I probably could have used some that day). I clearly couldn't control my children. I was alternating between trying to be stern and cracking up at how nutty they were. I must have seemed like an insane person. I was a spectacle. Everyone was staring at me, and I'm not just being paranoid. They were talking about us...really, I heard them.

Things didn't improve once we finally got our bagels. The boys kept getting out of their seats, running around, trying to eat food off the floor, both wanting to sit on my lap at the same time, begging for things to throw in the garbage can. You know, basically being three year old twins with a lot of energy.

Thankfully they weren't tantrumming. Things could have been far, far worse. But I think I gave all those high school students a good view of how much work children can be. I was a walking advertisement for the benefits of abstinence, or at least birth control, for high school kids.

So nine or ten months from now, if you hear a local high school bragging about how they've managed to drastically reduce teen pregnancy rates, you'll know the truth. It wasn't anything they did, it was just the view I gave them of how nutty life with preschoolers can be.

Random related thought: I had a great time that day, even though *I* needed a nap once we got home. Of course, the boys wouldn't agree to that so I powered through the rest of the day. Maybe the energy of an 18-year-old would have been handy. Oh dear, did I just encourage teen pregnancy?

Inappropriate public conversation number 963

I took my boys to the library today to return their books, get out some new ones, and put a hold on my impossible-to-find next book group selection (Unaccustomed Earth by Jhumpa Lahiri).

Then I decided to spend two minutes looking for a book for myself. I've been wanting to read Thinking in Pictures: My Life with Autism by Temple Grandin for quite some time. It's been on my list to look for in used book stores for over a year, and I just haven't found it yet. But she was mentioned briefly in The Omnivore's Dilemma, and then I just read The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time which is a fictional story of a boy with autism so I decided this was just too much of a coincidence and I needed to read Thinking in Pictures right away.

Of course my library is a total disaster. Even with the call number, it's usually impossible to find the book you need since they seem to use numerical order more as a suggestion than a fixed rule. Hey, maybe they're following my system of organizing books by color! Who knows, I haven't managed to figure out their system yet. It's a bit of a mystery.

But I digress with this long explanation simply to set the stage. N-man had picked a book about trains, so I set the boys in a chair as I start my search for Thinking in Pictures and let them read their new books. I'm up on a ladder, searching through books far above my head, and of course, even though I'm in the right call number section, my book is nowhere in sight. Suddenly I hear, quite loudly in the silence of the library, "Mommy, I see Percy!"

Now, anyone who has little boys probably knows that Percy is the green Thomas the Train character. And sure enough in his book was a picture of a real train that was painted green. What a great connection for him to make!

But here's the problem: the boys don't say Percy. They clearly say "pussy". So he's yelling: "Mommy, I see Percy!" but that's not what it sounds like he's saying. Then B-Man comes over to look. "Mommy, green Percy!" "That's nice honey, but let's use our inside voice." "Percy! Percy!" "Shhh, we have to be very quiet in the library." "Mommy, there's Percy!"

This goes on for a few minutes until finally, cheeks blazing, I take away the book to try to get them to look at B-man's book about trucks. That was the worst idea ever. Because what did they both yell immediately? "Mommy, I want Percy!" Sigh. I bet all the guys sitting around were wondering if we found the secret porn section of the library.

Random related thought: I finally had to ask the reference librarian why I couldn't find the book I wanted. Here's the explanation I got:

Librarian: "Oh, is that a biography?"

Me: "Yes."

Librarian: "We pulled all the biographies off the shelves and put them in a section upstairs."

Me: "I thought we weren't allowed to go upstairs."

Librarian: "You're not, but I can go get it for you in a few minutes."

Me, looking at my watch and realizing I'm supposed to be home in 5 minutes for the start of the SIX hour window the gas company gave me for when they're coming to switch our meter, but that's another rant for another day: "That's okay. I guess I don't really need it."

I guess all my signs to read Thinking in Pictures immediately were canceled out by the sign from my ill-organized library not to read it. It's not like I don't have enough books to read. I'll just keep Thinking in Pictures on my list. Maybe it'll be at the used book store next time I go!

Bon Jovi rocks, but not that much

One of my friends was telling me about a Bon Jovi concert she is going to, and asked if I wanted to go. Only problem is the tickets are $175. $175! To see Bon Jovi! I was telling TK about it. I mean, I like Bon Jovi, and I somehow missed ever seeing them in their heyday, so I wouldn't mind going to a Bon Jovi show. But $175? I just don't like them *that* much.

So, TK and I started talking about what bands we would be willing to pay $175 to see. There was a long silence as we thought about it. Both of us like music, and both of us, in our younger days, saw a slew of concerts. In fact, TK did see Bon Jovi in the 80's, and said it was awesome, although he trashed Skid Row, who opened for Bon Jovi. I refuse to believe that my imaginary celebrity boyfriend Sebastian Bach was anything less than amazing, so I'm not sure I can trust his opinion.

Anyway, we were thinking and thinking and thinking, and couldn't come up with anything. Until I said, "well, I'd pay $175 to be sent back in time to see a Nirvana concert before Kurt Cobain died. Or, if they brought Jerry Garcia back from the dead, I'd pay $175 to see The Grateful Dead. And the Beatles? $175 would be a bargain!" Apparently, for $175, I expect a miracle of some sort.

Seriously, though, who is the band you would pay $175 to see? I'm sure most people have one. I think TK and I are odd...perhaps we're getting too old or something, or perhaps we're just in a music slump where there just aren't any bands that we love beyond reason. So who do you love enough that you'd part with your hard-earned $175?

Random unrelated thought: I went out with a girlfriend last night. We met at the bar in a local restaurant. Okay, fine. I don't drink (well, except really girly drinks like frozen strawberry margaritas). So I order an iced tea. I get a strange look from the bartender, but whatever. After we had been there a little while, we decide to order some food. What do I get? Strawberry shortcake. The woman working at the bar actually laughed at me!

I don't think I'm allowed to sit at the bar. An iced tea and a strawberry shortcake apparently aren't appropriate bar-food choice. Hey, now I know.

It must be MIRACLE syrup!

I went to the coffee shop today, to feed the coffee addiction. Mmmm. While I was there, I had a very depressing conversation with the coffee-wench. I refuse to call her a barista, one: because it seems like a vast overstatement of her skills, and two: because she was kind of wench-y, as you'll soon hear about.

I ordered my non-fat decaf caramel macchiato (because apparently I love to waste my money on overpriced coffee drinks. It's so yummy, though! Why couldn't I become addicted to some cheap truck stop coffee?). Do you know what she has the nerve to ask me? "Do you want sugar-free caramel syrup?" No, I don't. If I did, I would have ordered it. That was what I thought, but what I said was, "No thanks, I don't like fake sugar."

Her response: "There's no fake sugar in this." Really? Do you have miracle syrup? If it's sugar-free and there's no fake sugar, what makes it sweet? I'm sarcastic in my head, but what came out of my mouth was a friendly "I'm sure there must be some kind of artificial sweetener in it. Otherwise, it wouldn't be sweet."

"No," she assured me. "Here, you can even look at it." She handed me the bottle, which I spent one second perusing until I found it, right near the top of the ingredient list. "This has sucralose in it," I tell her. She stares at me blankly. "That's Splenda," I clarify.

"No, it doesn't say Splenda," she insists, starting to really get an attitude. Her opinion that I'm an idiot is just dripping from every word by now.

"I know," I answer. "Splenda is a brand name..." Here's where I finally decide to drop it. "I'll just have the regular syrup, please."

She makes my coffee, I take it and rush out as my boys are really starting to get a little crazy. As I sit in the car and take the first sip, I realize, yep, she used the sugar-free. See, wench-y. What did I tell you. If I hadn't already strapped both boys in their car seats, I would have gone back in and asked for a new one. Of course, that probably would have been a spit-flavored coffee, so perhaps this is for the best.

Oh, I drank my coffee anyway. What can I say, I'm addicted. But now I have this gross tinny-metallic aftertaste that I just can't get rid of, even with brushing. Yuck.

Random unrelated thought, adult humor warning: B-man is allergic to peanuts and tree nuts, so we've been trying to teach him about it so that he knows not to take food from people and to ask if things have nuts in it. Both boys are getting really interested in talking about it. That's the set-up to the story.

So, last night at dinner, N-man busts out, unrelated to anything we were currently talking about, "Mommy eats peanuts!" I don't know why he said this. For the time being, we keep a nut-free house so I *don't* eat peanuts. Okay, this doesn't sound like adult humor yet, right? Well, when the boys say "peanuts", it sounds like a word for the male genitalia. So, his happy announcement of "Mommy eats peanuts" sounds like something far worse than he intended. TK and I couldn't keep a straight face, which is the hardest part of parenting. Because as soon as you laugh, they do whatever they're doing, except more. So, B-man picks up the chant, and now both of them are practically yelling "Mommy eats peanuts, Mommy eats peanuts".

Thank goodness we were in the house and not out to dinner. Although I'm sure they'll try this one again. They're probably waiting until my in-laws are in town.

Mother of the Year

Well, it's getting close to the end of 2007, and I wasn't sure I had quite clinched my nomination for Mother of the Year. So, I decided to take my kids to get their hair cut today.

It started well. Sure, if you consider that the crying didn't start until I pulled into the parking lot. I had to carry both boys, kicking and screaming into the hair salon. They calmed down a little while we were waiting, thanks to some lollipops, but the screaming started again once B-man was in the chair. N-man, even though his hair wasn't even being cut yet, joined the chorus. I tried to console them, but mostly ended up holding B-man forcibly in the chair while the receptionist, other children, and other parents all came over to try to help me. To no avail.

I thought things were bad, and then it was N-man's turn. He cried. He kicked. He tried to jump out of the chair. He buried his head in his lap. He drooled spit all over me.

Longest half hour of the day.

The hairdresser gave me a hug after. I guess I looked a little frazzled. One of the other moms there told me I was the one who deserved the prize when the little prizes were given to my kids after their haircuts were done.

I'm pretty sure when we got home, the boys finished up the form to nominate me for mother of the year, 2007.

On the plus side, they look pretty darn cute, and it'll be at least another 6 weeks until they need another hair cut.

Random unrelated thought of the day:

I think I'm going to start a "What I'm reading" feature. Here it is, what I'm reading: Dhampir by Barb and J.C. Hendee. It's not something I would normally have chosen. Despite the fact that I loved Buffy the Vampire Slayer, I'm not really much for vampire slayer fiction. But, this book was in the house, and The King said it was good, so here I am, half-way through it. It is enjoyable, right now it's earning about 3.5 stars out of 5. We'll see how the rest of the book goes.