St. Paddy’s Day and the Moment of Shame

Why not? Everyone is Irish today.

Why not? Everyone is Irish today.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As if we needed more incentive to be done with winter, my family is recovering from a long, exhausting week. (Thank you, winter germs.) I thought perhaps I’d share an embarrassing moment. Why not? It’s a holiday.

So, after spending months laid up on bed rest, I decided it was time to be hospitable again. It is important to me that the doors of my home swing open to the people in my life. SO. A couple of Sunday nights ago, I invited two couples to our home after church.

Since we were just getting to know these dear people, I put (unnecessary) pressure on myself to do everything perfectly. Note: My hostessing knees are still quite wobbly. I chose an easy recipe and I cleaned my house until it sparkled. This would be the first real adventure into hospitality with two little boys in tow.

The evening got off to a good start. I even remembered to put the scented fragrance oil on the living room lamp ring. (No small accomplishment when you’re trying to keep the toy brigade at bay in those critical moments before the doorbell rings.)

Truly, we enjoyed our time with these four new friends. By the end of supper, I noticed that my son had managed to splatter chili all over his clothes. No big deal. This is to be expected, right? I simply sent him upstairs to change his shirt and I turned my attention back to our house guests. We chatted for several minutes before my son re-emerged, wearing a new shirt.

And the room became very quiet.

This is not the shirt I had in mind when I sent him to change his clothes.

This is not the shirt I had in mind when I sent Andrew to change his clothes.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Yes. He was wearing a shirt that proclaimed, “My mom is hot.” WHO BUYS CLOTHING LIKE THAT? I certainly didn’t, but protesting too much would make me look more dysfunctional than I did in that moment.

The shirt was made even better by the fact that it is size 24 months. My son is 5 years old. It fit him like a sort of crop top no one should be allowed to wear, even at Wal-Mart.

Notes for the future: Don’t leave a bag of unfiltered hand-me-downs sitting on the floor of your son’s room, and don’t send your child upstairs to change his clothes without explicit instructions not to come down wearing something mildly humiliating.

Oh well. What can you do but laugh? At least dessert put us back on the right track.

Trisha_Sig

Comments

  1. HAHA!

  2. Excellent story! Thanks for sharing.

Speak Your Mind

*