embarrassment

Scary Words

Scary things I’ve heard coming out of my kids’ mouths:

To a messy neighbor:  “My daddy said you need to clean that mess up!”

To my dad: “Climb a weed, Papa!”

Comment as portly lady turns to leave checkout line:  “I was good not to call her a great big old fat lady, wasn’t I Mommy?”

To the dentist who encouraged her to floss:  My mommy won’t buy me any floss.”

Loud protest when I tried to shush my daughter in a restaurant: “He is so a fat man!”

In a grocery store:  “My mommy took my money to buy groceries.”

To the neighbor man:  “My mama’s ta tas are bigger than yours.”  Go figure.

To a kid who had been hitting him:  “My mama said I have to hit you.”  Whack!   There was a little story behind this.

To a visiting relative:  “My mama is tired of you sleeping here.”

To an elderly relative: “You smell like pee.”

To a relative:  “My mama hates your mean little dog.”

My young son to his grandma:  “Not by the hair on YOUR chinny-chin-chin!”

Worst of all:  “My mama said…….”

When You Gotta Go…

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This is was not their picnic, but you get the idea.  No bathroom in sight.

Mother has always been pretty ditzy.  We will only suspect her mind is going if she ever becomes organized.  In the early days of their marriage, she and Daddy went on  a picnic with Aunt Mary and Uncle Willie, long before the days of nice parks with conveniences like pavilions, picnic tables and rest facilities.  They just drove down a country road till they found a quiet spot under a big shade tree and spread their quilt on the ground for a nice picnic.  Not surprisingly, after lunch, the men decided to stroll to a small grove of trees to “look around.”

Apparently, there was a lot to see, because they took their time.  Meanwhile, back at the picnic site under the lone shade tree, all that coffee and lemonade was starting to percolate through Aunt Mary.  In desperation, she realized she couldn’t wait for her chance to stroll to the trees and “look around.”  There was nothing to hide behind, so she had to rough it.

“I’m gonna have to go,” she told Mother.  “We haven’t seen a car the whole time we’ve been out here.  I’ll squat on this side of the car where the men can’t see me. You keep a watch out for traffic so I can stand up real quick if I need to.”

Anxious to be helpful, Mother assured Aunt Mary she would.  After all, by now, she had to go, too.

Aunt Mary reminded Mother, “Now watch for a car.”  She set about her business, hidden from the view of the men.

It must have been a great relief, because once she maneuvered herself into the awkward squatting position, she stayed there a while, in no hurry to get up.  Aunt Mary was a woman of generous proportions.  Meanwhile, Mother stared off to the West, forgetting traffic went both ways.

As Aunt Mary sighed with relief, a car buzzed by from the East, honking and waving. “There goes one!”  Mother offered helpfully.

How Miss Tillie Tittillated the Heathen

imageMiss Tillie, my Sunday School Teacher held my attention like no other before or since, giving the class candy, bubble gum, and tiny little paper umbrellas if we learned our Bible verses. Mother thought she ought not to bribe us to do our lessons. I thought Mother ought to mind her own business. Miss Tillie had already taught Sunday School for thirty years by the time I had her in 1956. She still wore lacy dresses left over from her daughter’s high school days when she didn’t opt for gabardine suits with oversize shoulder pads from the forties. She showed up once a month with robin’s egg blue hair that faded over the next three weeks to a pale lavender. We always complimented her when it was at its brightest and she’d shyly say, “Can you believe I don’t even have to color it?” I couldn’t. She still wore seamed stockings long after the other ladies wore seamless. I always looked forward to seeing a special one with a mended run she wore every third Sunday. I got to know Miss Tillie before I was old enough to know she was a little wacko, so I admired all her differences.

Miss Tillie was so sweet I wouldn’t have wanted to misbehave. The naughty words in the Bible caused her a big problem. She couldn’t bring herself to say the bad words like lie, sin, Hell, and ass, so she made modest substitutions such as fibbing, doing wrong, the bad place, and donkeys. The lesson of Samson versus the Philistines was a challenge for her. Starting out fine, she described Samson’s great strength and glorious hair, reminding us of his obedience to God. Things were going well until the battle reached its zenith. With her modesty, she couldn’t possibly say, “Samson slew ten-thousand Philistines with the jawbone of an ass,” so after a great deal of obvious preparation and practice, she concluded the lesson with a flourish, “and so Samson picked up the assbone of a donkey and slew ten-thousand Philistines.” That lesson is still burned in my brain.

Payback is Hell

dead batTurning the tables on a kid who’s spent most of his life (I am being intentionally ambiguous here so neither of my kids feels neglected) creating embarrassing situations is refreshing.  We went out of town for a few days, leaving our college-aged son home, after specifically asking him not to have guests over.  He was certainly old enough to be responsible, for what that’s worth, but we just didn’t want to deal with any problems on our return.

Needless to say, he had friends over.  I probably would have never known, had one of his lady-friends not gone to the freezer for ice.  I got this phone call.

Him: “Mom, what in the world are that frozen bat and squirrel doing in the freezer?”

Me:  “Oh, I forgot I put those in there.  Just leave them alone.  They aren’t hurting a thing.”

Him: “But why are they in there?”

Me:  “I found them dead in the yard and thought maybe they’d died of rabies.  I meant to call animal control to see what to do, so I put them in the freezer in case they needed to be tested, then forgot.  Why?”

Him: “Cindy went in the freezer and stuck her hand down in the bag looking for ice, pulled out the dead bat, and now she’s freaking out.”

Me: “Well, I told you not to have anybody over.  Just wrap them back up and put them back in the freezer, unless Cindy Lu Who wants them.  I’ll take care of them when I get home.  I told you not to have anyone over!”

Sometimes, things work out perfectly.

More Travels with Mother

hotmama.https://nutsrok.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/the-low-down-on-lunch-with-mother/
Travels With Mother (Part 2)

The Most Fun You’ll Never Have, Kathleen’s Amazing Bathroom Tour!

It’s Not What You Tank!

 

God was with us.  We got to our destination, Hot Springs, Arkansas without a lot more drama.  We checked into our room, a nice suite with two king-sized beds and an extra bed for the fifth in our party.  For some reason, though it was 104 degrees, we freshened up a bit before going out to see the town, allowing us to start out with a less vintage sweat.  Within minutes, we were rank.  Not to be deterred by a little thing like heat exhaustion, we explored every shop on Main Street, till Mother found a little shop selling belly-dancing costumes. She wouldn’t be budged.  Now, as I’ve said before, Mother is tight.  She had no intention of making such a frivolous purchase, but had to admire herself in one. Every inch of the stifling shop was crammed with exotic outfits with no space devoted to dressing rooms. The proprietor obviously didn’t expect belly-dancers to be overly modest. Not to be denied, Mother just slipped her favorite on over her clothes, despite the heavy customer traffic. She is a little old church lady, after all.  I would never have expected so much business in a store selling belly-dancing costumes. 

Mother had us hold her things while she tottered and struggled into her racy choice, bumping customers at every turn.  They had to have thought her mind was gone and we should have looked out for her better, or that we were in geriatric sex-trade, pimping her out to some perverted creature with a fetish for demented, antique belly-dancers.  Neither choice made us look good.  Eventually, she pranced a bit and had us take a picture or two for her Sunday School Class, before being convinced to leave.  The store clerk was not amused by any of this, but I figured if she thought she was big enough to straighten Mother out, she could go for it.  I know when I am whipped. 

Bigsmilemotorcyclemama

An amused motorcycle guy and his girlfriend were taking all this in and invited Mother to meet their friends waiting on their bikes just outside. I think the burly guys exact words were, “She reminds me so much of my mama!” With him as Mother’s escort, we escaped the wrath of the store owner who was obviously thought it was past time we left.

Mother charmed his friends.  Her new friend invited her for a ride, which she refused, but she did climb behind him on his bike to get her picture made.  Regretfully, he helped her off, after telling her, “Ma’am, you don’t have to go home with these girls if you don’t want to.  We coaxed her away after she exchanged phone numbers and addresses with them, insisting they all come visit.
Later that evening, we made it back to our hotel, only to find the air-conditioning and bathroom both out of order in our room.  Mother took charge, went to see the manager, and got us transferred to the only room they had left, the Presidential Suite, complete with a hot-spring bath.  I suspect the manager thought, “She reminds me of my mama.”  For once, a bathroom drama with Mother worked in our favor.

We enjoyed the rest of our visit.  On the way home, my sister Connie hung her purse strap on a toilet handle and broke the toilet in a station.  She takes after Mother.

 

Big Mouth

I tried very hard to teach my kids to be sensitive, but it was a challenge.  When my little one was about three, I was stopped in a store by a friend for a few words.  The lovely lady was quite portly.  I knew my little one was dying to remark upon the unfortunate lady’s girth, so I shushed her and hurried to get away before her mouth went off.  As soon as we turned to walk away, she announced, “I sure was nice not to call her a big, old fat lady, wasn’t I?”

Potty Mouth

 

imageYears ago Bud and I went to a car dealership.  For once, we had to wait awhile for a sales person.  Nearby, another couple was also waiting and naturally, we started talking.  After a few minutes, I misspoke, embarrassing myself thoroughly by announcing loud and clear, for all who cared to listen, ” I’m tired of standing here waiting.  I think I’ll just sh__t on the bumper”. Of course I’d meant to say “sit.”  Bud and the other couple stared, then they walked off.  I wanted to run after them explaining, but gave it up as hopeless.  God only knows what I might have said once I was rattled.

Facebook!!!! Wah Wah Wah!

discretion3-1024x765I hate the crybaby stuff people put on Facebook!  An acquaintance (not friend)put a post saying her husband wouldn’t by her beer anymore since she lost her nursing license!  I wonder why?  That’s mortifying.  Facebook should have a some of those buttons you have to push to prove you’re sober before you can post. Continue reading →

Clothilde

imageRepost:  I was almost named Clothilde. (KLO-TEEL.  Wouldn’t have taken mean kids long to rename Kotex) So were my three sisters. No matter what heinous deed my mother may have committed or may commit in the future, I forgive her because she stuck up for me when it really mattered. Daddy was raised in North Louisiana during the deepest of The Great Depression, one of seven children always on the brink of starvation. His father either rented a farm or sharecropped when he couldn’t manage rent. Daddy didn’t speak often about his family’s situation, but occasionally slipped up and revealed the difficulties they suffered. They were a troubled family, economically and socially and moved frequently. Continue reading →