Unexplored Territory

Tuesday, June 26, 2007

Think of your most embarassing moment ....

and I will top you.

I have had a few. We all have, haven't we? Times when we were caught saying something we shouldn't have. Times we would like to just sweep under the rug, to forget about them forever.

I had one really embarassing moment that I thought could never be topped. Until yesterday.

When I was a full 8 1/2 months pregnant with the Queen (and when I weighed considerably less than I do now), Ace and I were at my parents house. We were up to attend my 10th high school reunion (we should have saved the gas....), and my parents were out of town so we had their house to ourselves.

No. This is not about s-e-x. This is about a s-h-o-w-e-r. And with only me involved.

I knew that Ace was taking our things out to the car to head on back to Kentucky, so I got in the shower and I left the door (that swings out, not in) open because I always get hot when I take showers and am getting ready.

So full-bloom pregnant, I am standing there drying my hair. I hear someone coming up the stairs, and I thought it was Ace. It was my DAD. I stood there. He stood there. Instead of him shutting the door for me, I had to reach out into the hallway to get it.

I think we both have tried to burn the image out of our minds.

And then yesterday happened.

I was coming back to our bedroom to change out of my pants. I decided to change out of my underwear, too. And call Ace on my cell phone. So I am standing in my tshirt only ... and my MOTHER comes into my room. She needed to tell me something. I thought she had left.

Oh..... Oh. Oh. Ummmm... I just wanted to ... oh.

I am standing there trying to pull my shirt down over the important things, but I just finally give up. And all the while, Ace is sitting on the other end of the line, listening.

Now ... she said she didn't know I had my underwear off. I said I couldn't believe that because she was acting all flustered.

I keep trying to remind myself that these are the people who gave birth to me. It hasn't convinced me yet.

Labels: Dad, embarassing moments, the Mominator

Thursday, June 21, 2007

Condescending phone calls

Yesterday I was getting the kids around to make a trip to the library. They were all ready to go when the phone rang. It came in as "private caller." Normally, this was how my caller id registered my Dad's cell phone, so I answered it.

"Hello. Is the Mominator there?"

"No she isn't. May I take a message?"

"Yes. This is John. I will leave my phone number. Do you have a pen?"

That grates on my LAST nerve. Do I have a pen? I don't know. Do you? If so, could I borrow it? What if it is a pencil? Is that not good enough for you, you pencil bigot!?

"Why yes ... yes I do. Do I need it for something?"

"Well, I was going to give you my phone number."

"Really ...I'm a married woman."

"Ummmm no. No. I was going to give you my phone number so SHE can call me."

"Well, she's married, too. I'm gonna tell my Dad on you!"

"No.... no. SHE called ME!"

"Oh. I see. Probably from HER house, right? This isn't HER house. Did you know that? Are you getting that idea by now?"

"Oh. This isn't where she lives? We have this number registered."

"Registered? For what?"

"On this account."

"Oh really? Well, did you know you are in violation of the Fair Debt Collection Practices Act? I am not on any account of hers."

"Well ...she called me!"

"Ok. I'll let this one slide. I will give her the message that you called."

"Well, can you give it to her today?"

"Really John .... after this whole conversation, do you think you could treat me like I am her 37-year-old child, and not her 12-year-old child?"

Click.

I called the Mominator to let her know that John was calling her (she had called him after all ... to let them know her payment was going to be a few days late) and I told her to be prepared.

She called me back about five minutes later to let me know she talked to John, and that John seemed pretty whipped.

Score one for the 12-year-old.

Labels: the Mominator

Tuesday, February 27, 2007

Speaking of mind games

Thanks for your comments... I am glad to know that I am not the only one who likes to pull my kids' legs every once in a while.

When I was growing up, my sister (who is 5 1/2 years my senior) LOVED to do this one to me: cross her eyes and act like they were stuck.

Normally I didn't fall for her idiotic mind game. Well ok ... when I say "normally" I didn't fall for it after this one particular incident.

We were standing in our kitchen, and I suppose I was about 10 years old or so (maybe younger), and Mini Martha decided it was time to play the game. She crossed her eyes, and kept them that way. Then she started to panic, saying "oh my gosh! My eyes are stuck! Oh NO! Get Mom .... get her!!! My eyes are stuck! Mom was right!!!"

And my response? well, a blood-curdling scream, of course.

My Mom's response. She smacked ME in the face.

Me. Not my sister for teasing me.

Me.

But then, this is the woman who smacked my sister in the face when my sister came running into the house when she was 8 years old, screeching at the top of her lungs that she had fallen out of the tree. My mother had read somewhere that to bring a child out of hysterics was to smack them to shock the system.

It certainly shocked my sister's system. She fainted.

Because you see, my sister had broken her arm. And my mother has never lived that down, and she never will.

Labels: growing up, Mini Martha, the Mominator

I'm a mom of three peeps ... Queen Bee, The Door Man, and the Chandelier Monkey, and wife to Ace, the Helpful Hardware Man. I created this space to get away from the people known as my inlaws, and because life with three kids and a hubby is all Unexplored Territory.

The nine-year-old who seems to be growing older every minute, has an opinion and a comment for everything, and has a true servant's heart.

The seven-year-old who loves the organization of things, will someday be someone's therapist because of his kind soul, and will more than likely be living with us until he is 40 years old.

The five-year-old with the 13-year-old attitude, who has a dictator's personality, asks you to watch her all the time and say "hold on" to keep your attention, and will someday come home on the back of some dude's motorcycle with 10 tatts and a body piercing or two.

The man of the house, the fixer of things, the winner of prizes, and the only person in his family to escape the South.