Which One?

So Jen at Absolutely Bananas wants to know about our most embarrassing moment.

Hmmmmm.

God, I have so many of them. It's like asking a wine connoisseur to name her favorite wine. I mean, can it really be narrowed down to just one? Although, I have to say that since my Hubby arranged it so that I was put under lock down, I mean put into hiding, no, no, that is to say I've become a stay at home Mom, there haven't been that many embarrassing moments. Perhaps I've just become accustomed to them, or Motherhood has given me a new found sense of confidence and therefore life's little imperfect moments just don't phase me. Or maybe I just don't get out that much. Or I just don't get out that much, and after spending many months going out and bringing my boobs out for all to see, I just don't care about the little guffaws. ( No dumb ass, I don't bring 'em out for fun, I was referring to breastfeeding.)

There was most definitely a short period of time in my life when it seemed like I was just living one big embarrassing moment. It was the first year after college. The year I moved in with my husband (then boyfriend) ,adjusted to life in Staten Island and started my first real job. Well lets re-word that, because can anyone ever really adjust to life in Staten Island? If you weren't born and raised there, that is? I don't think so. I still shudder at the thought. Ughhhh.

There was the time I twisted my ankle crossing 5th ave. Fell right to the ground. Had people practically trampling me, without one offer of help.

There was that time I won a free turkey at a drawing from work. Had to lug that 20 pound frozen turkey down 5 blocks, through two subway trains, onto the SI ferry then onto a friggin bus. You haven't lived till you've been a NYC straphanger with a frozen dead bird wedged between your legs, sitting on the nasty subway floor(the bird, not me!).

Then there was that time the SI bus ate me. The back doors closed shut, with my feet on the outside, standing on the ground, while the rest of me was inside the bus. Just a little awkward.

Or the time I made it all the way home, through that long ass commute, only to have my husband point out to me that I had a big ol' rip in the back of my black skirt, showing off my white granny panties.

I could never forget the time I was running late for work. As I entered the large waiting area in the ferry terminal, I could see the doors begin to close. I ran for it. And in very sloooooowwwww mooootiiiiooonnn I could feel myself falling, yet I couldn't stop running. I ended up flying through the air super man style, then slid a couple more feet along the ground. Missed that damn ferry. But got to spend the next 30 minutes waiting with a man who helped me up. Told me I reminded him of his ex-girlfriend, the one that was a pro-wrestler.

And a favorite with my family - the late night ferry ride after a really bad day of work. Thought I'd treat myself to a beer. Ended up spilling the beer all over myself. As I was cleaning it off of my skirt, realized I was spraying it all over the Wall St guy across from me. So I asked him if he wanted some. He just stared. What was I to do? I bought another one, and then sat there laughing my ass off. Laughing my ass of to no one else. The Wall St guy moved to another seat. Guess he didn't want to be near the crazy chick talking to her self.


Yes, 1997 was a very good vintage.

I'm your Mother, not your....

Barf Bag. Ok, so that's probably not what Jen at Absolutely Bananas was thinking of when she provided today's prompt, but that's all I've got right now.

I have had the most disgusting five days of my life. Hubby was away this week - from Tuesday till late Friday he was roughing it at a Hilton down south. Eating steaks and drinking scotch, while I was just trying to stay busy so as not to go crazy.

Half way through my stint as a single mom, I awoke Thursday at 4 am to the sounds of D2 crying. As I went to her room, I remember thinking I don't feel so good. What greeted me in her room was a whole lot of vomit. The next five days proved to be a whole lot of stomach flu for D2,me,D1, my inlaws and finally hubby. Yes, in that order. Oh, except D1 and D2 keep re-infecting each other and continue to be sick. I have seen enough vomit to last the rest of my life. Unfortunately, with the girls only at 18 months and 3 years, something tells me I have a lot more in store. Hopefully soon they will understand the wonderful toilet as receptacle. Not Mom as receptacle.

I'm your Mom, not your toilet.

Now, if you are thinking, way too much information there, let me tell you, you should have seen the details I typed up and erased!

I'm their Mom, but that doesn't mean I'm unselfish. While they were so sick and feverish, it gave me some time with them that I would be denied if they had been well. Miss Wiggles herself, D2, allowed me to rock her to sleep. I got to hold her, and stare down at her sleeping face - with it's cherubic chubby cheeks and streaky blond hair. I held her long past the point she fell asleep, just staring and cherishing. D1, too, fell asleep on my lap while watching tv. I was able to stroke her hair and stare down at her perfect little nose, feel her soft hair.

So D1 and D2, when you turn 13 and decide you hate me, remember, I'm your Mom, the one who will always take care of you when you are sick. Always. So at 13, remember, I'm your Mother not your enemy.