Approaching the metal, diamond-shaped gate in front of his T-K class, Ty spies me and jumps to his feet.
Quick smooch, snack hand-off, then skip, Ty’s ahead to the far gate where his big brother is dismissed at the same time.
And then it happened. He suddenly took notice of the taupe overalls I was wearing, and, as if he could read my mind (Can I pull these off? Who cares, they are so comfy, I may never take them off again) he shouts to every parent within earshot, which, oh yes, I can assure you was practically the entire school, “MOM, YOU LOOK LIKE A FARMER!”
Awkward snickers. True story.
“Thanks bud. I was going for the Farmer look. Remember that time we had a pig? Yee-haw!”
And then I threw his backpack “slop” on the ground. (Not really)
Kids. They say it like it is, which is so utterly innocent and intoxicatingly humbling.
Apparently I’m winning in the Embarrass Your Kid category. Wear overalls and mortify both sons. Check.
What about us, fellow parents? Don’t our kids embarrass us like every.single.day?
Whining for more yogurt helpings.
Running down the hall, screaming, “I HAVE TO PEE!” while I’m doing a phone interview.
Guess how awesome I felt walking out of cardio barre once because some Little Mister decided to bite another kid? Cue tears and all the embarrassed feelings. And that was me!
So, I have an idea. It’s called payback. It’s called, “You think THIS is Embarrassing?”
It came after I had a good laugh at the “Farmer” comment. Naturally, I texted those in my “nest,” my peeps, telling them what happened.
Gosh, I just heart my nest friends. Their replies cement universal mom feelings.
“Gotta love the things kids say.”
“This is hysterical.”
“We were put on this earth to embarrass our children. Well done!”
“It’s only the beginning of those stories, right?”
The text thread grew and I offered a final confession, “I must admit, I kinda like embarrassing them. I may just start picking them up in costumes every day!!”
Yep, I’m gonna rock my farmer overalls. And next time, a hat and straw will be involved. Heck, I may even have a pig under my arm at school pick-up.
And I secretly want to take it to the next level. A friend told me Target has unicorn costumes on sale, so I may volunteer at Reading Center’s dressed as a hot pink poky horse.
Let’s not stop there.
I may throw myself on the ground near the Pokemon aisle and rip open the chip bag at Trader’s and cry for no apparent reason other than I’m in my mid-30’s and all those years of being embarrassed by sweet sons deserves some embarrassment their way.
So, dear children, how about this? I WILL embarrass you. You WILL embarrass me. Let’s chalk it up to the grand gift of give and take with this parent / kiddo relationship.
If you promise not to put your hand down my shirt while I’m mid adult-conversation, I promise not to yell your name on repeat while you discuss the most recent school fundraiser with your buddies.
If you promise not to wave my tampons and yell, “Why do you need 6 boxes?” in the Target aisles, I’ll promise to not pull out pictures of your booger art to impress your first girlfriend.
If you promise not to squish your nose and grimace, “This dinner is disgusting,” I’ll promise not to
go bazurk and cheer with pom poms at your sporting events make up voices when reading Mo Willems books and use them in public.
I promise not to recycle commonly used phrases that exit your mouth:
“When you walk, your bottom jiggles.”
“You have a big dot on your chin.”
“Why do you look so tired?”
But who are we kidding? We WILL embarrass one another, and they’ll make for great stories and greater laughs, and we’ll bond over your crazy farmer mom and our silly outspoken boys, and we’ll realize embarrassment is a perspective, not a plot.
Now, does anyone have a peacock costume I can borrow for tomorrow’s pick-up?