So after we got my glasses, I took Nathan with me to get our flu shots. We didn’t get them last year because he was so little, and I was worried there might be side effects. Plus we weren’t around a lot of people. But this year? Nathan has already been sick a few times, passing his illnesses on to me, and then I pass it to Paul. (Yes, he is now sick with the cold Nathan and I just had!) So I don’t want to deal with the flu on top of everything else. He’s around other sick kids a lot because apparently, people have no qualms with taking their sick (and contagious) kids out in public and around other children. The risk of contracting the flu is very high for us. Besides, I read in the news that there are three different strains going around this year, and the vaccine protects against all of them.

So anyway. It was a long wait. And guess who decided to start living up to the Terrible Two’s? That’s right. You guessed it. NATHAN.

I was completely horrified at his behavior. Ok, I understand he was tired of waiting, and I get that he was hungry and tired. But OMG you guys, I seriously wanted to crawl into a hole and hide. I was so embarrassed… he was carrying on like I had never disciplined him in his life. He started throwing tantrums which included kicking, screaming, and scratching me…. He was running around the room as if he had just chugged three Mellow Yellows, he was touching people and stepping on their feet. I put him in time out on my lap, and that solicited screeching wails of protest complete with headbutting and anger to the point that his face turned BRIGHT RED.

My sweet little angel was nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE to be seen. Instead, I had this crazy little disobedient maniac on my hands.

Mortified. That’s the only way I can describe how I felt. Completely and utterly MORTIFIED.

Plus, it didn’t help that there was another kid there, probably around age 5, who was extremely hyperactive and had no problems feeding his hyperactivity to Nathan. This kid was throwing his coat in the air and dive-bombing onto it when it landed on the floor. When I had Nathan in time-out on my lap, this kid kept poking Nathan and telling him he could get down and play. I sternly told the child, “No, Nathan is in time out and cannot play. Please stop touching him.” And you guys! The kid wouldn’t stop! I finally had to get the Mommy Voice with him, and I looked at him and said, “Please stop.”

Guess where his mother was? Sitting one seat away from me, texting. Go figure.

So our little expedition was one huge nightmare. The Terrible Two’s are here, and I think I have my hands full… I will not tolerate him behaving that way in public. He will not be one of “those kids” that solicit eye-rolls and angry murmurs from onlookers. So it looks like I need to come up with another strategy as to how to handle these outbursts.

Time to brainstorm.

After we got home from our errands. Look, he still has an impish little gleam in his eyes!

Mortifying Memories: Your Past Humiliations 

It also made me think about my own mortifying moments. And believe me, I have a bunch of them. MEGA TONS of them. Because I am one of those people who has a knack for embarrassing herself. I say the wrong things at the wrong times. I fall down a lot. I bend over and rip my pants.

I think my favorite mortifying moment (is that even possible… to have a FAVORITE mortifying moment?) would have to be when Paul and I first started dating.

I know, I have lost all dignity by telling the Internet about this. But it’s just too funny not to share.

So Paul and I hadn’t been dating for very long. I was sitting in his lap and we were watching a movie and talking. Everything was going smoothly… I was looking into his beautiful eyes and thinking about how amazing he was when all of a sudden…

I FARTED.

IN HIS LAP.

His eyes got about as wide as saucers. Because he really couldn’t believe the girl he was dating just farted IN HIS LAP.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you just farted in my lap!” he exclaimed. Fortunately it was just a little fart. Dainty and feminine. A poot.

Thank God it wasn’t a roaring man fart.

Then his nostrils flared, like he was trying to make sure it didn’t stink. You never know, sometimes it’s the little ones that pack a punch. Sometimes you can have a roaring man-fart that’s completely odorless. Other times, you can have something like a seemingly innocuous and dainty poot end up smelling so bad that it could be captured and used as a biological weapon.

God was smiling down on me that day.

There was no odor.

Regardless of that small favor, I was mortified. Absolutely, positively, utterly and incomprehensibly flabbergasted. I wasn’t quite sure how I managed to let that happen. How do you let yourself fart in some one’s lap? And not just any someone… but someone you really, really like! So I did what I always do when I’m embarrassed and trying to hide the extent of my humiliation. I laughed.

And with that laughter, out came another fart.

And then ANOTHER ONE.

Holy crap, I was a total farting machine that day.

I farted three times in Paul’s lap. In the span of thirty seconds. The first one was a dainty little poot.  The second two followed quickly, like rapid-fire machine-gun farts. And I was wishing I could crawl into a dark, hidden hole in the earth somewhere and just blend in with the shrubbery. So I continued to laugh out of sheer embarrassment.

And yet he still chose to marry me… the girl who farted in his lap.

So do you have a favorite mortifying moment? Do you have one that is even more mortifying than mine? I would love to hear some stories!

 1. I have a morbidly vivid imagination, which works quite well for me in my field of work (graphic design.)

2. When I’m anxious, I bite my fingernails and leave pieces laying around for my husband to see, just so he knows how stressed out I am.

3. I randomly broke my foot over a decade ago while walking to the bus-stop one day while I was in high school. And old lady with white, beehive hair almost ran over me with her giant blue Buick, so I dodged my imminent death by jumping into a ditch, breaking my foot in the process. It is the only bone I have ever broken.

4. I was a smoker for 12 years. I kicked the habit cold-turkey July 1, 2008, and I will never smoke another cigarette. I had a serious love/hate relationship with cigarettes. Quitting was quite easily the hardest thing I have ever done.

5. I use my son as an excuse when I’m caught talking to myself.

6. I love animals and am especially fond of cats. We have four fur babies who are like humans. However, I am severely allergic to my cats so I have to dust and vacuum all the time.

7. Speaking of which, my record amount of sneezes due to cat-allergies is 17 in a row.

8. I am terrified of bees. I know I can crush them with my mighty strength and awesome mind power, but their stingers pack a sting of terror.

9. I’ve only been stung once in my entire life, when I was 7. Ever since then, I run for my life (literally) and always manage to thwart their evil plans to kill me. People say, “Don’t run, they’ll sting you!” Well, it’s been working for 21 years… I opt to continue looking like a deranged fool over going to the hospital any day.

10. I hear voices and see dead people.

11. Ok, I don’t really hear voices and see dead people, I just wanted you to be scared of me.

12. I am very easily entertained.

13. I recently reorganized the entire house from top to bottom, and now I can’t remember where I put everything. My husband is quite irritated that I misplaced most of his stuff. I can conveniently remember where most of my things are.

14. My husband loves me despite my compulsive need to rearrange things.

15. I am very, very anal about keeping the bathroom clean. Water spots on the sink have been banished. Along with any specks of spittle that tend to magically appear on the mirror. And my husband’s whiskers.

16. I have been diagnosed with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

17. My favorite color is pink.

18. Sometimes I laugh when someone falls down. But only if it looks really, really funny. I’m not THAT evil.

19. I really hate when people stare. REALLLLLLY hate it. It makes my butt twitch.

20. I like to make people think my butt twitches.

21. I’ve learned no one can ever out-fart a pregnant woman, EVER.

22. I like really cute and unique socks, and I never care if they actually match my outfit, as long as they match each other. I am especially fond of the ones with toes. (My feet stay cold.)

23. Try as I might, I can’t cook. I think I am cooking-disabled. Thank goodness I married someone who cooks like a champ!

24. My grandfather on my dad’s side is 100% Finnish. I like my heritage… the only drawback is that it is impossible for me to tan. I burn, peel, and freckle, so I just stay out of the sun.

25. I’ve learned over the years not to take things for granted, even the talking chipmunks.