Well,I knew it was bound to happen. Eventually. I’ve been racing against time for years now in a full-on effort to alleviate dealing with this issue. I understand it happens to us all and have tried to reason with myself to that fact. It still stings. It still digs deep. It still pains me.
Allow me to explain.
My sister, mom and I headed out this past weekend to visit our community’s holidaybazaar held at the local high school. We were actually afforded a break in weather and had a beautiful, sunny (albeit freezing cold) day to lift our rain-beaten spirits. I brought Avery along with me, her Hello Kitty wallet and purse in tote, to shop for crafts and quickly discovered some problems with my decision.
Problem one: Avery was misinformed regarding the term ‘bazaar’ and all it encompasses.
Avery: What is this place?
Me: It’s a bazaar, Avery. People bring their crafts and things here.
Me: Because they are trying to make a little extra money. You’ll see. It’s neat.
Avery: I don’t get it.
Me: What don’t you get? It’s crafts and stuff.
Avery: Um, okay. I don’t see any.
Me: See what?
Avery: Crafts and stuff.
Me: Because we haven’t actually gotten inside the main part of the bazaar yet. Be patient.
Avery: Can I buy a stuffed animal?
Me: Let’s wait and see what else is in there. Maybe there’s a craft or something you want to buy.
Avery: You mean like a snowman or something?
Me: Yeah, maybe a snowman.
Avery: I’d rather have a stuffed animal.
Me: Come on, Avery.
Problem two: Avery does not have a stellar grasp on the necessity for organization.
After much begging and pleading I finally acquiesed to allow Avery her stuffed animal. Another frickin’ stuffed animal. To join the other 472 sitting in her room. She finds a cocker spaniel whom she immediately names “Ginger” and pulls her wallet outof her purse.
Avery: My money’s in here. In my wallet. Just a sec.
She looks atthe vendor and smiles. The vendor looks back at her and…doesn’t smile.Moreover, she grimaces. Sheobviously was not enjoying her day.
As Avery zips open her wallet I realize it’s going to be a long transaction.Her wallet was stuffed fullto the brim and bursting at itszippered seams.I wasgrowing alittle unsure as to how she would locate the onelonely $5 dollar billamidst all the”important” paperwork filling her wallet. The frantic part of my personality was ready to just throw a 5-spot at the human gargoyle and get the heck out of Dodge. But, I could tell that purchasing the animal all by herself was important to Avery so I just stood back and inwardly seethed.
After rifling through used bandaids, sticker backings, playing cards, sticky notes and aboug 30 pounds of pennies, Avery located her $5.00 and proudly handed it to the lady.
Avery: Here you go. That’s $5.00 dollars.
Human Gargoyle: Here. (She handed Avery the cocker spaniel and then proceeded to scurry back into her hidey hole behind the sock monkeys.)
Problem Three: Okay, so here’s where the story gets even uglier. The real purpose of my post.
We continue to weave through the bazaar and we pass by these two young boys manning abooth with woodcarved crafts.
My sister says, “Wow. Look at that. They have a really nice booth.”
I said, “Yeah, it’s like a little workshop. Cute.”
The two teenage boys looked at each other, bashfully, and smiled. I thought, “aren’t they cute?”
This is when the horrible thing happened.
As we walked passed the boys I heard one boy say to the other one, “Dude…those two moms were totally hitting on you.”
Like a dagger to the chest. It was all I could do to keep from falling onto the ground and assuming the fetal position.
I’m a mom.
I mean, I’ve been aware of this fact since I experienced 3 stitches in the nether regions after birthing Avery, but I didn’t realize that other people (namely those younger types) would automatically assume it.
But, it is what it is and the fact of the matter is…I am a mom! A proud one at that. It’s a new, albeit more mature, identity thatnow after all ofmy pathetic whimpering I’vedecided to wholeheartedly embrace. You never know. I might even purchase a pair of mom jeans and move on to wearing moresensible shoes.