SOMETHING ABOUT SMB

I’m back from hiatus and want to thank you all for reading or re-reading my reruns. I was certain back then that the only people to read this blog would be my family and friends who were shamed into it. A year later, I’m by no means in the league of VodkaMom or Braja but am astounded by and grateful for the blogging buds I’ve met here in the interwebs. You guys are the BEST!

I think I may have mentioned after my physical that my physician, Dr. Black Cloud, ordered an ultrasound of my thyroid. What I didn’t mention is that I’m a knot-head. Yes, I have a knot on my head. A perfectly round slight protrusion from my forehead. (Certain family members are saying that my natural horns are beginning to show.) So Dr. BC figured since I was already having the ultrasound of the thyroid, she would just throw in my head as an extra study. Doctor’s appointments were just some of the things on my plate last week while I was on hiatus.

Last monday, I arrived on time wonders never cease for my ultrasound studies. The tech was friendly and since he recognized me as someone in the medical field, he put me at ease by chatting about his experiences in the OR with my employer. The thyroid ultrasound was without event and we moved quickly on to the knot on my head. The location of the knot made it difficult to get a good image and several gadgets were used to try to get a better picture. If you’ve ever had an ultrasound, you know that they use that slimy gel on the probe to facilitate ease of movement. I was very clear that he was not to mess up my hair or makeup. It took him a minute to realize that I was kidding.

Eventually he was satisfied that he had gotten clear images and the study concluded. He gave me a towel to wipe off the gel and led me out the door. There was no mirror in the room. I was sure that my hair was a mess. I did my best to smooth it down as best I could without a mirror. I thought I had done an OK job. I walked to the elevator where I rode with a father and his two young children. I walked thru a crowded lobby and out the door to my car. It was there that I saw my image reflected in my car window.

Remember that movie, “Something About Mary”? Poor Mary mistakes Ben Stiller’s character’s body fluid for hair gel and creates quite the “doo” for their date at the restaurant. Yeah, that was me. *sigh*

Hugs,

Smart Mouth Broad

GO TEAM!

I was trying to catch up on blog reading this afternoon while sitting on “ignore” hold with an insurance company. I literally laughed out loud at The Optimistic Pessimist (aka Marathoner81) post about her child’s latest assignment. It brought me back to some of the embarrassing moments I’ve had over the years courtesy of Daughters #1 and #2. Between the two of them, they’ve provided me with a lot of material. Now that they are older, I thought it might be fun to embarrass them share some of these charming memories with you.

I’ll limit today’s stories to Daughter #1 but before you start protesting that it’s not fair to only pick on one child, rest assured that I have lots of stories and Daughter #2 will get her fair share. Stay tuned.

I was talking to D1 on my way home from work the other day. She mentioned having rented a video from the Red Box. She informed that not only can you rent videos from this box but you can also buy used videos for $7. She then giggled and said, “I need seven dollars.” I added: “for your husband?”

Daughter #1 was a delightful toddler. She was smart and engaging. She loved to meet new people and would speak to anyone and everyone. She walked and talked very early by textbook standards and never, let me repeat NEVER baby talked. From the time she started talking you couldn’t shut her up you understood every word clearly.

We were shopping in Albertson’s when she was about two. She was seated in the shopping cart with her legs through the foot holes and facing me. She was chatting away about her day and singing songs and giving her opinion on my grocery choices. Then as a nice woman passed our cart, she yelled out to the woman, “I need seven dollars for my husband!” The woman smiled and moved on down the aisle.

I asked her why she would say such a thing. And she told me, “I need seven dollars for my husband.” Each time another customer passed us in the aisle, she would make this announcement. I was mortified thinking these people must think I take my child out begging for money and she’s picked up my line. To this day, I have no idea where she heard something like this or what she was thinking when she made it up. And why seven dollars? All I know is I got a lot of sad, pitiful looks from the other patrons and employees at the store and I didn’t take her with me again for a long time if I could avoid it.

Fast forward 15 years. D1 is now a varsity cheerleader. She called me after school and asked if we were going to the away football game that night. I said that we were and she said, “Great! I forgot my bloomers. Would you bring them to me?” I said that I would and put them in the trunk right away so I wouldn’t forget. (Bloomers, in case you are picturing those long ruffled shorts hanging out of dresses back in the 1800s, are color coordinated panties that cover your real panties)

We got to the game a little late and once there, MHS and I rushed from the car to get into the game. Because we were the visiting team, we sat on the small bleachers on the other side of the field from the stadium type bleachers where the press box is. MHS and I took our place among the other parents and began to watch the game and the cheerleaders. I made eye contact with D1 and remembered that I forgot to get the bloomers out of the trunk. The look on my face said it all and she said, “Don’t worry about it. It’s not a big deal. I have on black underwear.” She didn’t mouth this, mind you. She yelled it. Up into the bleachers. A little like the ostrich that sticks it’s head in the sand and thinks it can’t be seen. She was only talking to me so she assumed no one else would hear? I guess?

I very calmly walked down the bleachers and out to the parking lot to my car. I got the bloomers out of the trunk. I walked back to the field. I stood at the fence until D1 came over to me. Then I reached thru the fence and grabbed her hair and pulled her ear close to my mouth and said, “Next time, maybe you should walk over to the press box so you can announce to the entire field what color your panties are.” I handed her the bloomers and calmly took my place on the bleachers.

What are some of your embarrassing moments? Come on. Don’t leave me hanging out here all by myself.