Much like how a debutante’s parents present her to society, we presented our boys this past weekend to the family living far away. This was their ‘coming out’ party for siblings and immediate family members that had yet to meet them. We planned the weekend to be simple and as unimposing as possible to limit the overload that comes from being the center of attention.
We planned a day with each side of the family. We planned everything down to the smallest last detail with great concern for Kaitlyn and the boys.
When we arrived, a full hour earlier than scheduled, I felt quite pleased with our efforts. We started the weekend on the right foot. It didn’t take long for circumstances to put me in my place and snatch the somewhat smug feeling of accomplishment from me.
I soon realized I had no clothes for the boys when I unpacked our suitcase. They had nothing except the ones they were currently wearing.
That’s right. No clothes. Not a stitch.
I give you all permission to laugh.
The stores closed in ten minutes. My mom witnessed my frantic search through the suitcase, (which included throwing all our clothes out and onto the floor), and laughed hysterically. We quickly grabbed our coats, raced to the department store, and made some purchases.
We were the last shoppers to leave the store, only an impressive five minutes after closing. I’m sure I’ve never shopped so fast in my life! As the cashier rang up our purchases, my mother shared with her the reason for our late night dash. While compassion burned in her eyes, my cheeks burned with embarrassment.
The whole situation screamed blog material! I couldn’t wait to get home and share the experience. But, a sense of humor didn’t erase the oppressive feeling of incompetency that weighed heavy on my shoulders while I stood in front of the cashier admitting my shortcomings as a mother.
If you have been there as a mother, this blog is for you. If you’ve had your shortcomings as a parent broadcast publicly I’ll keep you company and proudly hold my computer printed ‘Mother of the Year’ award (sent all the way from England praising me for remembering the children, even if they had no clothes).
I’d love to hear your stories. Maybe we can tag it our first step into transparent living together. (If that doesn’t make sense then read the previous blog entry.)