Home > Blogs > Adventures in Motherhood > Archives > 2011 > October > 11 > Entry
My kids think I’m embarrassing? It goes both ways …
I wrote last week about mistakenly putting a little Mommy-loves-you note in my son’s lunch box.
He was mortified that I would do such a thing and his friends all saw it signed with x’s and o’s. A mere 7-years-old and he’s already becoming self-conscious.
He now prefaces everything with, “Mom, do not write about this in the paper! Please!”
I figure, it is my job (literally) - and my right - to embarrass my children. My parents did it to me as often as they possibly could.
“Hi, my-daughter’s-new-friend! Hey, Darc, is that a zit on your forehead?”
Not even my brother, the Golden Boy, was left out of that activity.
“Ryan, if you don’t get your room cleaned, I will plant a big, wet kiss on you when your friends get here.”
My brother couldn’t get the toys off of his bedroom floor fast enough.
The embarrassment goes both ways though. My kids have left me standing, wide-eyed and red-faced plenty of times.
In fact, a neighbor stopped over recently and while she and I were talking my eldest (more mature?) son proceeded to interrupt our conversation to inform me that his sister had “dropped a load in her pants.”
Ah, the things he learns from school mates.
Our kindergarten son is full of daily quips that keep us wondering where he learns what he does and why he has to do/say it in a crowd of people.
Not to be left out is our 2-year-old daughter.
Granted, she doesn’t always know better, but after eliciting a cacophony (learned that word from spelling bee champ, Andy McGinn) of laughter, burping out-loud at the dinner table has become a regular occurrence (even at restaurants while enjoying lunch with her great-grandparents).
Thanks to a nasty sinus infection, our daughter also began picking her nose - embarrassing enough, but after digging out a clogger she wiped it on her Godmother’s uh … chest.
sigh
Never a dull moment in this household; I just can’t wait until my next triumphant moment in embarrassing my kids.
(I llloooovvveee you, my babies! xoxoxoxoxoxox)
Contact this contributing writer at Motherhoodcolumn@yahoo.com or faceook.com/motherhoodCTC.
Tweet
