Another Epiphany

I realized why it is that I very seldom (if ever) wind up embarrassed: In order to be embarrassed, you have to CARE what other people think, and nine times out of ten (or more) I, well, don't. CASE IN POINT:

Went to the mall today to have pictures taken on the munchkins...always an UN-fun affair. "Don't touch that, get off the floor, keep your clothes clean, no you can't have juice right now, smile, smile, SMILE!" and so on...fabulous. But I had to stop and pick up some tomato cages for our Urban Homestead on the way, and aside from telling the kids 50,000 times not to touch the cages because they'd get their hands and clothes dirty, I ALSO had to tell Tyler to sit down in the back of the cart 50,000 to ensure he wouldn't end up on his head on the concrete in the garden area of Lowes. We were checking out, which, of course, is when my son knew my attention would be directed elsewhere, so he was once again up on the edge of the cart and toppled back a couple inches so he was hanging off, the cart side caught under his knees and his hands gripping the side. The checker-chick panicked and carefully pulled him back up, then turned to me like I was the world's worst mother and said "He really must stay seated in the cart if you're going to let him ride!"

Ya think? Furthermore, honey, you're not his mom and obviously haven't heard me telling him every other second for the last 10 minutes to sit down, and rest assured that if he did fall out and land on his head, not only would I NOT sue Lowes, I'd spend every other second on the way to the hospital telling him "I told you so" just by looking at him. So don't expect me to be all embarrassed and stare at the floor and shuffle my feet and apologize for not tending to my own child...no embarrassment here.

THEN...we had the photos done (and I know the kids were grumpy; we got there 20 minutes before our appt and I actually had to threaten to leave because it was half an hour PAST our appt by the time they got to us!), we waited another 15 minutes to be able to view them, and then another 10 minutes to have them printed...and it was time to leave. The kids had been great, it's true...they'd been patient, listened, laughed, been obedient...and they'd also been rewarded. We had snacks and drinks and rode up and down the in glass elevator about a dozen times, they played with the games and toys inside the photo studio...they were covered. So when we left, I expected moderate-to-polite behavior, and instead ended up with a crazy son streaking on ahead, refusing to stay with me and Miagee, and being totally defiant when I ordered him to return to my side because his running off worried me. So I grabbed him by the arm and walked him along with me. He will not bruise, he was in no pain...just disgruntled by my power position, and so he did what he could: had a total screaming, shrieking, girlie-yowling meltdown. Aaaaaaaah, kids.

So I kept walking, not even thinking about the people openly staring at me. So what? If they've had kids, they get it, and if they haven't, they'll NEVER get it. I confess, when he threw himself down on the floor in Nordstroms kicking and screaming "NO!" and "OWWWW!" at the top of his lungs, I yanked him up off the floor, caught him in midair, and carried him by the waist out of the door to the car...and wondered briefly if anyone priviledged to catch my manuver would call the police (or at least mall security) thinking I was abusing my child...but we made it to the car without incident, so...whatever.

Other than that fleeting "is someone going to call the authorities?" thought, I really truly felt no embarrassment, nor any need to apologize for him overly tired and grumpy son. Cest la vie. Doesn't make me a bad mom, so why bother being embarrassed? Perhaps if I was indeed a wretched hag of a mother, I'd feel some mortification at my son's obnoxiousness...or maybe if I was a wretched hag I wouldn't. Regardless, I'm not (usually), and my son isn't (usually) obnoxious.

So I know why it is I seldom get embarrassed!

But if I, I don't know, cut off my mom on the freeway on my way home from somewhere and didn't realize it was her until too late...THEN I might be embarrassed. (I haven't done that, by the way.) For me, it's all a matter of the action (is it truly embarrassing?) combined with the witness (are they really important to me?). In other words, if I ever tell you I'm embarrassed by you seeing/knowing/hearing something about me, it must me I care about what you think.

Maybe I shouldn't have told you this. Huh. Did I mention I'm also the type to speak before I think? Sigh. Have a great Tuesday, all!