As you know many of my posts are about the dwarfs. I do not think that I have ever been tempted to blog about the Prince ( he IS perfect in every way), but I also have a history of not blogging about myself.
My family, the Prince, my brother, my adult child, often mock me for my "Michelle" moments. They find it hysterical that occasionally in a complete and absolute sincerity, I say perhaps not the most appropriate things... or I slur my sayings, or choose hills to die on that they find to be insane. I don't really understand why they find it necessary to pick on me, and have started to tell them that "someday when I am gone they will feel bad about being so mean to me," but alas they are not buying what I am selling, so why not just go ahead embrace it, and laugh at myself!
My brother will fall to fits of uncontrollable laughter over a time that I walked outside while he, my father and my husband were investigating a septic system issue and proclaimed " Gee it sure stinks out here!" Or the time that I walked into a funeral home, and proclaimed it was great to see the woman that handles all the arrangements again! What I meant was that I was happy to see a familiar face, seemed I had been there before, just recently and she did such a great job the first time with our funeral arrangements, it was just refreshing, comforting was all. NO amount of discussion could make them see my reasoning for the comment. Why anyone would be happy to see the funeral director again was beyond them.
There is also a rumor out there that at my funeral you may be handed a cereal bowl and a half pint of milk, if this happens, you should just go with it... why? Because some of my family and friends think my rule of not letting my children slurp their milk, or soup, or other liquids from the bottom of a bowl is silly. So the idea is at a given point at my service, everyone will pour, lift their bowls to their lips and slurp loud and proud in my honor! I think it is sort of rude, to poke fun at the dead, but if they find it funny, I won't be there to stop them. I guarantee that my children will at least pause before being so uncouth, at their momma's funeral, to slurp out of their bowls... I hope.
I have had many moments over the course of the years, where my words have been slurred, my thoughts unclear, and my intention, while in my heart true and pure, turned into something else when it came out. I do not think it is coincidental to the fact that the number of children in my care has increased over the same amount of years as exponentially as have my "moments". No one however, is buying what I am selling. So as I have recently had two moments... I thought I would poke some fun at myself! Here goes!
A few Sunday's ago, I got dressed and drove to church with two dwarfs. Situated myself in class, and got ready to take prayer requests in my journal, when I felt a tug/or snap/ or nudge on my left side. So I glance to my left side, to realize that the zipper of my sundress has started to pull apart. (Sometimes it does not pay for the Salvation Army to be your one stop shop for clothing.) However, at this point I was not overly pressed, as it was just a pucker in the zipper. I was not worried, as the zipper was still secure at the top and bottom and most of the space in between! I figured I would be fine until the break for the main service. WRONG!! As I adjusted in my seat turning ever so slightly into to the back of the chair, the whole zipper breaks open. How do I know ? Because I can feel the breeze! Now I am not prone to panic, however after being in Florida since June, and knowing the "mom" variety bathing suits I have been wearing, I know for a fact that the area of my body now exposed from under my arm pit to the top of my hip is the pasty white and very NOT attractive variety. I of course, have no sweater, and am seated on the far side of a horseshoe arrangement of seats, farthest away from the exit door! Now my options are limited. Prayer requests suddenly are dragging out... and I am fighting a simultaneous panic, mixed with sweating profusely, and cant focus for anything on what is being said as I plan my exit. Finally, I am able to get the attention of the leader's wife, to whom I indicate that I may or may not have suffered a wardrobe malfunction, and when her husband starts to lead everyone in prayer, I will TRY to sneak out. Now we are halfway around the circle of adults sharing from their hearts, and all I can focus on is my flesh that is pressed into the scratchy seat fabric, while I plot my exit. At this time another thought pops into my head, and now I start praying that everyone in the room prays with their eyes closed! (or at least the one's to my left!) Finally, it is time to move! All I have is my prayer journal, so I tuck it under my arm, tuck the sides of the zipper under the book, and press it tightly to my side with my arm, and rush to the door. I grab the handle and twist... and the door doesn't budge. It is not locked, but it is a heavy metal door, of which I was not expecting! So as I adjust my force on the door, the prayer journal starts to slip... I start to inwardly groan (or at least I hope so!) I throw myself into opening the door and just barely escape with my modesty in tack. Now I stand alone in a hallway that stretches left and right with no one around. I am on the second floor of the church. Do I take the elevator and risk running into someone in a well lit area, or do I take the stairs, where it will take me longer to make my exit, but I will be in a low light area and can almost guarantee to be alone? Well I opted for the stairs and surprisingly in a church of a couple thousand members encountered no one further. I got to my car with only slight modification to the prayer journal under the arm and drove the .22 miles home to change laughing the entire way!
My next moment is not nearly as dramatic, but left me feeling exposed none the same. I worked diligently on making a grocery list for two days, and as I gathered my coupons, slugged the last of my coffee I felt ready to conquer the world of the Winn Dixi!! It has always been my personal opinion that coupons are a painful experience and not worth the effort, but in an attempt to make the Prince happy, and to take advantage of the best options available on our reduced budget, I am making a genuine effort to save every dollar possible ! So , I get Bashful off to school and head out on a mission to stock the fridge, freezer and pantry for the week ahead. I have the coupons, the list, the sale flyer for the store. I am filling the cart with an abundance of stuff,and have crossed off diligently all items on the list. No extras, but the cart is bursting!! Cold items, paper products, dry goods and canned goods for 9 for one week! I am at check out and there is only one line open (of course) and as the second register opens I am in perfect position to be invited over to the new open lane - since the three folks in front of me are either checking out or have already unloaded their carts on the belt. I see the light go on, and I scurry over as Dennis greets me with a big smile and a "how are you today?" I start placing my purchases on the belt, and he starts ringing them up. I pause because the belt is full and reach for my purse to pull out my "club card". My hand strikes air. Empty space where my wallet sits regularly. I glance at Dennis, my retiree cashier, who is struggling to get my items to scan, and frantically dig again thinking I just placed it in a different section of my purse. NOOOOOO! is what I defeatedly say as I come to the staggering realization that my wallet is sitting beside my laptop on my desk at the house. I say to Dennis, " I am so sorry sir, but I realize that I have left my wallet at home." He looks at me like I might be speaking French. He eventually stops scanning items and calls over Bill, the sweetest little, if I could choose my own grandpa, he would be it, sort of guy. He is so kind, he says "Look Miss, this happens often. I will take your cart and put it in the walk in cooler. Is that okay? How long will you be gone? " I shake my head and say "I am so sorry...but I think I can be back in 20 minutes will that be okay?" Bill, everyone's favorite grandfather figure says, "You bet! See me when you get back and I will go get your cart from the walk in." I fly home. Not really it seems like the trip that took an eternity, but I got back in 21 minutes! Went to find Bill... He saw me coming. He stopped what he was doing, and said he would be right back with my groceries! He was! I went back to Dennis. He was happy to rescan my items - all of them this time, and I was happy to pay in full for them! But boy did I feel silly ! I am sure those ladies behind me thought, what kind of goof comes to shop without her wallet. My friend said I was just distracted. By what I thought was, come on now, get it together, this mom thing is your only gig currently.
So you see, what is that saying about throwing stones? I can poke fun at the funnies in my families life and at life here around the kingdom, since I am also willing to share my tales of misfortune with you! People who live in glass houses should not throw stones? I think it applies?
You really do not have to visit long at our house to see that this stuff happens on the regular, and you really can't make this stuff up!
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