Tag Archive: Embarassing


So my first two children were girls. Girls were so much fun.  I could dress them up and they got along most of the time. Rarely did I have a smack down between the two of them. My next two children were boys.

Boys are an entirely different species all together. When my boys were younger, they got along great together. Better than the girls. As they grew into teens, I started noticing BIG differences in their behavior. I am not sure where in the genetic code of humans that the burping and farting in public gene mutated in males. This is hard to understand as a female and one that I will never understand. For some reason the teenage…and I might add, older aged male, seem to think this is the best way for impressing the babes.  Let me put that myth to rest right now. That would be no.

When my youngest son turned 13 something changed. Not only did he change, but he passed whatever he had on to my son that was 15.  My polite 15-year-old son suddenly started farting wars with the 13-year-old.  Two years later despite my constant nagging things have not changed.

This is not the only problem with teenage boys.  The burping and farting they are constantly doing seems to drown out common sense or deadened it.  I am still not sure which.  I truly believe they will do anything to embarrass me even if it isn’t on purpose.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my boys and they make me laugh everyday. They are hilarious, but they come with horrible side effects sometimes.  Take my trip to town a couple of days ago.  We came to a store where they were selling newspapers outside of the door.  I am sorry, but I hate this.  I hate being  jumped at a store door without an exit route.  I have told these guys over and over that I do not want a newspaper.  As I sat in the car looking at the front door and trying to figure out how to get into the store without getting a sales pitch, my son says this “I got an idea, I will just go up and “pants” him and then when he is distracted you can go into the store. I bet he will never want to sell anything to you after that”.  After I recovered from envisioning this scene, we opted to go through the garden area and avoid him altogether. I wasn’t sure my son wouldn’t try something.

Amongst my purchases at this store was a toilet plunger. As I am getting into the car, I find that my car has a new hood ornament which took some doing for him to get it off after he put it there.  I seriously counted my blessings that I saw that before I got going down the road.  Once we get going down the highway he then proceeds to stick the plunger on the roof of the car to pretend it is a police siren, you know like in the movies. I had to put up with this for 7 miles.  With my neighbor driving right behind me the whole 7 miles.  Then he has the nerve to tell me that he wants to make a bow that will shoot one. Guaranteed, I will be the first to get it in the face.

Then the other day we went into a store. I was stuck there with him again despite the many times I have told him he is not coming with me ever again.  We came out of the gardening area and started down an aisle where we both saw this really cool green glass looking ball. We both reached for it at the same time to feel it. After touching it we realized it was plastic and that is was a toy ball.  My son quickly  grabbed it and started reading the label.  “Hey”, he says “this says this ball can bounce 150 feet in the air, I don’t believe it”.  As soon as the, “I don’t believe it” came out I knew he was going to see if the claim was true. The first words out of my mouth was, “Don’t do it”.  He must have turned off his “hearing aids” and decided that not only was he going to bounce it on the floor, but he better make sure he gives it enough power that it will do what it claims. He was standing at the top of one aisle and I started down another aisle just as he bounced it.

I looked up to see the ball go through the ceiling tiles.  This was a good 30 feet up.  The ball hit those tiles just right that it lifted them up and turned them enough that they fell out of the rim they were sitting in and came down on his head.  I personally did not stick around for the whole thing to play out.  When I saw the sky falling, I wasted no time in disappearing.

My first thought…”Dang it, they just saw everything on security cameras”.  My second thought, I am getting out of here before they realize he belongs to me.

When my son finally caught up to me, he begins to complain about the paper cut that one of them gave him on his face.  No, “sorry mom, I should have listened to you”.  No, nothing.  It has been 3 days and still no apology. Perhaps someday when he has a son I will get an apology. Because despite my hopes for change, I think the gene will mutate in his future sons also.

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Home remodeling is not for wusses.  During my growing up years, there is only a couple of houses that I recall not being involved in a remodeling job of some sort.  My mother had this innate ability to take something ugly and make it beautiful.  I remember one particular house that I went with them to look at.  I remember walking into this four walled container of fecal matter and telling my parents that I would not move into that house if they decided to buy it. It seriously looked like someone had urinated on the walls or something in the front room.  The toilet was so disgusting.  The house smelled horrible.

My parents bought the house because they got a great deal on it.  I moved in kicking and screaming.   The house did have to be cleaned up before we moved in which helped a little bit.  When my mother was done with it, it was beautiful home.

I will be the first to tell you that I hate remodeling.  Mostly because I hate things being in chaos and it would eventually lead to not having a bathroom in the middle of winter. Utah winters in the past were not kind. You would sometimes have to plow a walkway to the car through 3-4 feet of snow. This year it has been 3-4 inches.

When my grandmother passed away, the doctors did not want my grandfather living alone.  He was pretty feeble.  So my mother and father sold our home and we moved into my grandfather’s house.  It was a two bedroom, 1 bathroom home.  There were 5 of us.  My parents made do until we could remodel the home to have 3 more bedrooms and a bathroom. See, I told you all remodeling leads to being without plumbing at one point and time.

This remodel job started in the summer and went into the winter.  My grandfather had a greenhouse that he had made that was in his backyard about 200 feet away from the house.  When it came time to install the new toilet, shower and sink, the water had to be shut off to the bathroom.  My father built us a porta-potty of sorts in the greenhouse for privacy.  Unfortunately it was in the winter and we had a lot of snow.  I remember a few mornings making the trip out to the greenhouse dreading the frostbite I was getting braced to receive.  This makes you pretty tough.

I am about to “out” my mother on this and may she forgive me.  I did not understand her situation then like I do now that I have had four children.  The birth of children seriously damages anything related to the bladder and the lack of control thereof.  Did not understand this at that time.  I am a lot more sympathetic of her situation now.

One particular morning when our bathroom was still located in the great outdoors, she woke up and had to go out to the “greenhouse”.  She realized as she got up that she had to go pretty bad and wasn’t sure if she was going to make it.  She had a pretty steep flight of stairs to go down and realized when she got to the bottom that there was no way she was going to make it without having an “accident”.  So she made an executive decision to just step off to the side of the steps and go. She hit a patch of ice which caused her to go down along with her pants.  Even now, 25 years later, I still laugh at the picture this paints in my mind. I envision Bambi when he first stepped on ice.

Now thank goodness Google wasn’t around to do a drive by “shooting”.  I would hate to find her on a Google map search somewhere.  I could not stop laughing that entire day.  I had graduated from high school and was at home so I was stuck there painting all day.  When it would get quiet…you know the 7 minute lull….I would envision my poor mother in her predicament and start laughing.  She would just look at me and give me that “I know what you are thinking about look” and then proceed to tell me that she wishes she would  have never told me what happened.  Well today I almost had the same experience she did, only I kept my pants on and ice was not involved.

The first house my husband and I lived in had to be completely remodeled for it to be livable. I decided after the 10 years of that that I would never remodel again. I will paint, but I won’t tear the entire house apart. So for the last couple of months, I have been giving my walls a fresh coat of paint after 7 years.  Today I decided that my children’s bathroom needed a new look.  I have unfortunately been smacked with the short stump and am at a huge disadvantage at reaching ceilings, let a lone vaulted ceilings.  I have not to this day spent money on a step-ladder.  That is probably why I have nearly died a few times.

Today I had the can of paint on the bathroom sink and I was standing on the side of the tub trying to paint around the ceiling.  I had a chair in between me and the sink so I could just step around to make things easier.  I stepped on the chair with one foot to reach the paint can and for some reason the chair slid, thus causing me to do the splits.  I am sure even when I was a baby that I could not do the splits. I am not genetically built for them.  My sister tried forcing me once which, quite frankly, I was lucky I could still have children afterwards.  Anyway, as the chair slid I felt the muscles pulling in places that no woman wants muscles pulling.  My daughter and husband was on the other side of the house discussing bikes and handlebar tape.  I yelled for help, groaned for help, prayed for help.  No one came. I managed to grab on to something and get myself pulled back together. I had a flashback to when I was 24 months pregnant with my youngest son (not really, but it felt like 24 months), I went to kick a ball and missed.  Couldn’t walk for weeks from a pulled groin.

I do not think that I will be walking the same after today. There is something about pulling the groin muscle that just messing everything up.  I nearly crawled into the kitchen to where the beloved family with hearing problems were.  No comments like, “sorry, we didn’t hear you” or “are you OK”.  All I got was laughter.  It haunted my ears as I am sure it did my mothers years ago.  Why did I even tell them.  Everything you do as a teen comes back to haunt you as a parent.  At least I was within the privacy of four walls and my pants were stretchy.

Can I Embarrass Myself Enough?

I grew up in a family that enjoyed having a good time.  My brothers were constantly pranking us five girls.  Of course we would always pay back. One particular week stands out more than others when one of my brothers was off work and made our lives miserable.  In the process we all started pranking each other something terrible.  My father even got in the action.  Which was out of the norm.  Usually Mom was the one who would go toilet papering with us kids and other “various activities”, all good and legal fun (at least it was legal back then). Toilet papering was our favorite thing to do. If you got toilet papered, you were the coolest people on the block. I remember my friend and I saving up tons of paper towel and toilet paper to get a boy’s house that I had “liked”.  I remember one buying spree prompted the store checker to ask us what we were up to….we just smiled.  Admitted nothing.

This  particular week off for my brother was a nightmare for the rest of us.  We would find the neck and arm holes of our pajamas sewn shut when we put them on.  We found the legs of our nylons sewn together.  My mom found her clothes missing (that was my dad), my brother found a brazier in his gym bag while he was in the boys locker…(this was a  good one).  My sister found a fake snake in her bed and we found fake spiders (that looked very real) hanging from our ceilings.  We were renting this home and the basement was unfinished.  My father had been in the military and somewhere my parents had picked up military cots for us to sleep on.  We came home from school to find all of these nailed to the beams on the ceiling. We came home and found our beds outside..this was in the winter.  We got my brother back by hanging all of his clothes off the roof of the house, including his tidy whiteys.  We put vinegar in his cologne….(I think this made my extremely patient brother upset) At this point, things were getting out of hand. We knew my father had had enough when we built a snowman in the front yard and instead of using a broom, we used a toilet plunger.  This did not sit well with him.

One prank that went bad was my sister had put shoes above a door that led downstairs hoping that she would nail someone in the head when they opened the door.  Well she did alright….the telephone repairman.  Nailed him good she did, then she blamed it on the younger, less-defensive siblings.

Anyway..this  is kind of the way my family is.  One of my sisters imparticular will call and give any child of mine that answers the phone…including my husband….a good teasing about one thing or another before asking for me.  I pretty much do the same to her children or my other sister’s children. There have been times when she or I or another sister will pass on the street and pull the old “finger up the nose” gag to be funny.  These types of things are just normal for us.

The other day, my sister called asking me to help my nephew do his taxes.  She gave me his cell phone number and I gave him a call.  I was half way through giving him crap about how I work cheap, etc…when the voice on the other end told me I had the wrong number.  Well…that was embarrassing.  If we weren’t always trying to pull one over on each other, then things like this wouldn’t happen.  Take today for instance:

I went to help my sister do something for my father.  She left before I did, but I came upon her at an intersection.  As I came closer, I decided I was really going to get her good.  She was directly behind a truck that was waiting to make a left hand turn.  There was no one in front of me and I was going straight.  I went really slow and stopped right by her.  I stuck my finger up my nose as far as I could get it and put the stupidest look I could conjure up on my face.  I sat there right next to her knowing full well she would see the color of my car and turn and look.  Sure enough, when I turned to see the look on her face half expecting her finger to be up her nose too…I came face to face with an irate looking woman who did not resemble my sister at all.

I don’t think I have ever covered my identity as fast as I did at that moment.  I sat there thinking to myself…”idiot, idiot, idiot”.  How could I mistake that car for my sister.  I ran through my head where the car was exact make, model and color.  Her big hair looked like my sister’s big hair from the back……yada yada yada..

If I was not constantly trying to pull one over on somebody, stupid things like this would not happen to me.  Next time, I will be more cautious.  I will drive up slowly take a good look to make sure it is who I think it is…then I will shove my finger up my nose.  Problem solved.

My Mother, may she rest in peace, had an immaculate home.  Nothing ever out of place.  It was not always like that.  There were seven kids and she had her moments.  I remember a story she told of getting a call that someone was coming over and the house was a mess.  She had to “cram for the examine” so to speak before the company arrived.  She found the closest room to get rid of things and stuffed everything inside.  I guess that the company complimented her on how well she kept the house up with so many little kids.  This particlular incident made my mother into the “Clean House Nazi”.  She taught us kids to be clean, neat and organized.  I used to be, until I had children.

I know there would be days that if she saw my home she would roll over in her grave.  She is probably looking down on me from Heaven telling to pull it together.

I do know that over the years of having kids, I have gained a lot of patience and I tolerate more than perhaps what I should. Case in point:  A couple of months ago, we bought an electric scooter from a thrift store to help save gas.  It is mostly for the kids to get to their friends house, etc.  My son came flying through my kitchen on it the other day, almost running me over.  I just looked at him with that look that says, “Really?”.  He informs me that there aren’t many mother’s who allow their children to drive the scooter through the house.  What I didn’t tell him is that He has taught me more patience than my other children.

Well, this lead to a choice that I made that should have put me in the child category instead of parent category.  I walked through my house and saw the scooter plugged in.  I decided to climb aboard and just sit on it.  Then the thought occured to me that perhaps one of my dogs would love a ride on this thing.

I called one of them and stuck it on the foot rest and gassed it.  I didn’t want her jumping off while I was going.  Well….that was a stupid thought, because she did jump off.  Out of fear of smashing her flat, I swerved and lost control of the scooter, flew down the hall and into my daughter’s bedroom hitting her keyboard and almost knocking it onto the floor.  In the panic of everything, I forgot it had brakes.

I wish I would have been alone when this happened, but my 19 year old daughter was in her room next to the room I went plowing through.  According to her…”All I saw was legs flailing and heard screaming”.  Dang it.  I didn’t want an eyewitness to this at all.  Not even sure what possessed me to try it to begin with.  It goes about 15 mph.  I probably topped off at 17 through the hall judging by how long it took me to stop and how much damage I did.

I won’t even begin to explain why I attempted this.  I don’t even have the answer for that.

Every year come November, usually around the first part of the month I start to feel all of the walls closing in on me.  You would think that after so many years I would be used to it, but I get stressed out to the max and feel pulling to cord to get off at a different stop.

Many things combine to make me start feeling this way.  First of all it turns off cold.  I hate the cold.  It is pretty sad when the only things you want for Christmas are things that will keep you warm like warm slippers, onsie PJ’s and an electric blanket.  I can’t use these things any other time of the year but winter.  It sucks!

I begin to start feeling like I am being pulled in directions I physically cannot go.  Because the pulling begins all at once and never in the same direction.

When I get to this point, I start doing real stupid things.  Not consciously, I just get scattered brained and start doing things that I normally don’t do.

Like yesterday…

A guy came into school a couple of days ago needing a website made.  There are three of us that will be working on it.  Two of us were at school yesterday and the proposal had to be put together.  I was the guinea pig because I was the only one that new Excel.  This was the first big thing I have had to do since being in school.  I was stress out because it had to be done yesterday.

After about 2 hours of putting it together, when I finally finished I realized that I had to go to the bathroom like yesterday.  I don’t know if I am the only one like that or other people are, but when I am so into something I forget what is going on around me.  I decided I should run up the hall and “relieve my waters” before getting on with some of my other work.  Because I had been so stressed out, I wasn’t thinking clearly and before you know it I found myself standing in the men’s bathroom.

I hadn’t even noticed the different colored floor until it was too late.  I can only imagine the look of horror on my face when I realized what I had done.  I turned and hauled my butt out of there faster than you can say, “Bob’s your uncle”.  I didn’t look behind me to see if I had been seen coming out of there like there was a fire.  I told myself…..”It’s starting” I won’t be myself again until January.

So I say to myself, “So long semi-sane until later.  I can only hope that glimpses of you will occasionally emerge to let me know you are still there waiting to come back to stay.”

My daughter showed me this video last night that I can relate with.  I am “Granny” at this time of year.

Raised the Bar on Stupidness Levels

My kingdom of dorkdumb just increased by 100 acres as of two days ago.   I have a problem with getting in “the zone” and nothing around me is visible or audible.  I don’t know if it is age or what, but it is seemingly getting far worse than I would think of someone in their forties.

I thought it couldn’t get any worse than what it did a few days ago when I put the plastic wrap in the fridge and the cheese in the pantry.  When one  does something like this, you might think…”They are so in love they can’t see straight.”  Well that is true but after 21 years of marriage you would think that the vision had gone somewhat back to normal.  Nay, nay.  I wished I could blame love for it, but I am afraid it more Alzheimer’s than anything else.

At school, Grooveshark has become my addiction.  When I am working on designs I crank the tunes because it helps me think.  It gets the creative juices flowing.  Right now I am listening to Jamie Cullum’s version of “Don’t Start the Music”.  Smooth jazz is great!  Anyway I just started learning Illustrator and I had Lynyrd Skynyrd cranked to the max. 

Unbeknown to “dorkdom”, I had accidentally pulled my earplugs out of the jack and the entire class was rockin’ whether they liked it or not with Sweet Home Alabama.

Now, I have not asked it if was O.K. if I listened to music while at school.  I have the mentality that I do it and then apologize later and claim ignorance if it isn’t permitted.  Needless to say I felt all eyes boring through the back of head.  I really wanted to try to blame the person next to me, but unfortunately no one was sitting by me. It was clear where it was coming from.

There was no one way to put the plug back in without being seen.  I would have really liked to have a camera on the PC to see the look on my face when I realized that the music was coming from me.  Would have definitely been Master Charge worthy.

Had I been the guy that sits a few computers down from me that happened to be listening to a training video and farted extremely loud, I wouldn’t have been embarassed because I wouldn’t have heard myself.  I don’t think he even realized it was audible.  I heard it and I had my earphones in.   He just kept working like nothing happened at all.  No eyes boring through his head why???  Because I am the only woman in the room that is why!  Men don’t care.  I really hope he saw  the “crater” he left in the chair when he left and wondered to himself how that happened?

“Teenage Scarring”

In my opinion there are things that should never happen at certain points in a teens life.  Only because it will scar them for life and they may never recover from it.

One hundred years ago when I was a teenager something happened to me that I will never forget.  I can laugh about it now, but it was not a laughing matter then.  I was scarred.  I was fourteen and in those very awkward years when I was very concerned about what people  thought about me and how I looked, etc.  I was asked to sing at a function in another town.  The daughter of a friend of my mother’s wanted me to sing at a birthday celebration for all of the ladies and their husband’s in an LDS ward.  This was a great, yet scary opportunity.

There were about 100 people in attendance and I noticed that my 7th grade health teacher was there.  I of course was a big freshman in high school and wanted to make a good impression.  I hadn’t seen my teacher for a couple of years and didn’t want to end up looking stupid.

I had on some very high heels.  I would guess about 4 inches.  Which, by the way, I don’t wear heels anymore because of this very incident.  It came time for me to sing and I was starting to feel the butterflies in the gut.  We were in an old church gymnasium where sound traveled quite well.  I started walking up to the stage entrance when I heard a very loud bang on the floor.  It startled me out of the scared stupor I was in enough to look down and notice that my high heel had gotten stuck in a metal heater grate on the floor.  It was about 1 square foot in size.  I had lifted that entire vent out of the floor.  Struggling to keep my composure, I tried kicking the vent off.  It would not budge.  I had to remove my shoe and pry it off.  It ripped the leather on my heel in the process. 

After putting it back in its place I continued the “100”  mile walk to the stage.  There were a set of steps that I had to climb to go around the back entrance to get on.  I somehow managed to trip up the stairs putting a large hole and run in the pantyhose.

At this point when I arrived back stage.  I stood trying  to pull it together before attempting to sing a spiritual song.  Thinking I might get some support from my sister who was playing for me I looked to her for some sort of sign of encouragement.  All I could see was the bouncing up and down of her body on the bench because she could not stop laughing.

Needless to say, I was so mad at her and my mother all the way home because they couldn’t  stop laughing.  I was scarred, scarred bad and hoped I would never see those people again. 

Jump ahead 9  years.  I ended up moving to an area after getting married where I lived in the same town as the son  of my health teacher and the sister of the lady who asked me to sing.  Which by the way was almost an exact twin to her sister.  After a few years I have learned to laugh about this.  I have even been the recipient of a few jokes regarding this.  That’s fine, I just roll with the punches now.

Some children never get over this kind of thing.  There is someone I “know”…(We will change the name of the person and their relationship to me to protect the guilty) that had something happen to him that may take a lifetime to get over.

A few years ago we were attending a rodeo where a couple of  young men I “knew” wanted to do some muttin’ bustin’.  This is where you get on a sheep, hang on for  dear life and hope you get the most points to win the trophy.  This is a very popular event as families gather to see if their kid will ride the ride.

This particular child had on a pair of shorts.  I suggested that they put on some long sweats so they wouldn’t get their legs all scratched up.  The child initially put the sweats over their shorts, but I suggested that they  just wear the sweats because of how hot it was.  An important fact to remember here is that the sweats were breakaway sweats.  They snapped all the way up both sides.

The  child’s turn came to ride the sheep and he got on holding as tight as he could.  He was about 11 years old.  As the sheep bolted out of the chute, the boy was thrown off the sheep.  The sheep stepped on the sweats and it somehow ended up ripping the sweats off of the kid.

He sat there in the middle of the rodeo arena  in  his tighty-whities, trying to frantically find the sweats to put them over him.  Now, not everyone could have seen this, but I know  as soon as the rodeo announcer said,”Ladies, cover your eyes while this young man retrieves his britches” probably grabbed the  attention of the entire audience.  This poor child’s mother could not stop laughing long enough to get up and help the poor kid out of the arena.  He pretty much demanded to go home after that and his muttin’ bustin’ career was over.

Five years later and this  is a very sore subject with him.  I am not sure if he will ever be able to laugh at this.  I have heard people laughing about this after the fact.  People  who did not know my relationship to this young man, but who was there in the audience to eyewitness this young man’s life altering experience.