So embarrassing

It you’ve started hearing the phrase “This is SO embarrassing” more than once a week, you might be the mom of an 8 year old boy.

Yes, my sweet, friendly, wide-open oldest child has now entered the phase of life in which everything his mother does and says in public is embarrassing.

Exhibit A: Four weeks ago, he marched out of school with no jacket.

“Where’s your new Nike hoodie?”


And his brother and I marched him right back into school to check the lost & found. He had to stand there while I sifted through the piles of coats, hoodies, socks (really? Who is losing socks at school? I feel like that’s a good story.)

THAT was apparently SO embarrassing.

Great. Perfect. Mission accomplished. “Maybe now you will keep better track of your things.”

Ha. I know this lesson is not going to stick. How do I know? First of all, this child is the fruit of one absent-minded professor and one Lucy Ricardo. I did a test and the DNA all checks out. He doesn’t stand a chance of ever knowing where his keys are when he grows up.

Secondly, we did not find said hoodie.

Third, it was starting to get colder and he was getting taller, so he needed a new jacket anyway. So the lesson he learned was that mom would just go to TJ and get him a new jacket every time he loses it.

Then last week, the plot thickened. He came home from school without the new jacket I had JUST bought him. Adding to the mystery was the fact that his dad took him to school, so neither he or his father could recall weather he even wore it TO school in the first place. (It was pajama day, so he was already wearing his cutest, fuzziest warm matching PJs per my insistence, despite his insistence that he wanted to wear his Pokémon PJ shirt that contained a week’s worth of boy germs, with un-matching bright yellow PJ bottoms that you can see his TMNT undies right through.)

And when Dad picked him up from school, the jacket-less child reported, “My jacket is in my backpack.”

One point to Slytherin for asking the question, Daddy. Minus two points for not checking the backpack.

Cut to this morning, with me insisting on arriving to school early – looking splendid in my mom bun – to look through the lost & found for the NEW jacket.

And if you’ve never sorted through the lost & found at an elementary school in December, BOY ARE YOU MISSING THINGS IN YOUR SAD LIFE. It is a MOUNTAIN of wonder. As in, I wonder what everybody is wearing on their bodies instead of all these winter garments.

I mean, yes, this is North Carolina. It’s not that cold. Most mornings I can get away with flip flops. But not in December and January.

This time around, the child wasn’t allowed to just stand there and lament his enormous embarrassment over every child watching him and his little brother and his frazzled mother doing our impression of dumpster diving under the stairs.

Mind you, this child is not at embarrassed walk around with loose shoelaces, because I’m told by the office staff that that half the student body walks around with loose shoelaces all dang day. Now, I am not even close to being OCD but OH MY WORD THE SHOELACES FLAPPING, FLAPPING, FLAPPING! I have to go lie down.

We did not find his new jacket this morning. But we DID find his LONG LOST NIKE HOODIE.

Next time the temperature drops and he still doesn’t have his jacket, he’s wearing my crazy-ass handknit poncho that belongs on a dotty cat lady.

In theory, that should do the trick. Somehow though, I’m pretty sure the opposite will happen and he’ll start a trend. Next time you see me I’ll be knitting kooky striped ponchos for everyone in his class. They can wear them with their shoelaces a-flapping in the breeze and have at it. I don’t even care anymore, just put them on AFTER you brush your teeth.

What’s this about toothpaste. Ugh, more on that later.


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