Happy Monday everyone! I just thought I’d re-introduce Parent Wellbeing as a sidebar sponsor! I’ve recently completed the Parent Manifesto program.
And by completed I mean everyone else is finished and I’m still working my way through – but that is the beauty of Parent Wellbeing.
Jodie Benveniste and the gang are committed to helping you become the best parent you can be, in your own style, with your own values.
Head on over and check out Parent Wellbeing and take a look at the upcoming programme – well worth the time and effort.
Especially considering for the first time ever I don’t feel like a crap parent – whether my kids are being feral or not.
A few days ago I read this by Mrs. Woog of Woogsworld. And at the end of the post , right after she wrote in pirate speak, she posed the questions: Did your parents ever embarrass you? Which story sticks out the most?
And my brain began working in overtime because I do honestly believe that is was my mother’s mission in life to embarrass her children.
She is THE Mastermind of Embarrassment.
If they gave out degrees in how to embarrass your children, my mother would be the course coordinator.
In fact, I don’t believe she is done yet and is actually lying in wait for the perfect moment to embarrass me in a way no mother has ever embarrassed a child before, nor will ever again. Not even Mrs. Woog.
But the moment of utter humiliation I remember the most is the purposefully cloudy, yet rich memory of the time my mum ruined my life!
I was 14. Living in a very small Central West, NSW town for the second time in my life. And it was the week leading up to the all important school social.
There were two rumors flying around Year 9 that week.
One was that my family would be moving soon. I didn’t believe a word of it and defended my family loyally. I mean, I would KNOW if we were leaving town, right?
The other was that Todd Schiller** was going to make his feelings known to me at the social, by kissing me. I’m don’t quite recall how this rumour started. But I have a theory.
I started it, by default.
I confessed my feelings of utter devotion after being caught out by one of my mother’s friends by offering to walk to dog of my own accord. Apparently, she used to water the garden for her mother to get a glimpse of a neighbor boy and saw right through my far from altruistic dog walking intentions.
I was a rather trusting 14 year old, and so I believed that telling this woman and my mother all about how Todd Schiller always chose ME to sit next to in Science, English and at lunch would result in nothing more than gentle interrogation and raised-eyebrowed, whispered, sniggered comments in my ear in his presence. Which would have been enough for the How Embarrassment pages of Dolly as it was.
I was wrong.
All of a sudden I was being questioned by classmates: Do you like Todd?
And then the day before the social arrived and I was being asked: Would you really let him kiss you?
I swooned. I gazed. Todd seemed nervous. Obviously a good sign.
My first real kiss was actually going to happen (kissing Mulian Joran** behind the town hall/indoor gym when I was 11 did not count. Even if he did try to slip his tongue in. Don’t worry, my lips were clamped air tight)!
My mother was particularly helpful as we got ready. Very supportive when I asked if I could arrive with friends, instead of being dropped off by her.
And when I got there, I realized why.
She was manning the front door for the one dollar entry donation.
I mentioned to her my concern that she would embarrass me:
“Don’t say ANYTHING to him!!!”
She assured me she would be friendly, so I entered the darkened classroom and went to stand against the wall with my friends because no one wants to embarrass themselves by being the first on the dance floor.
Todd hadn’t arrived. I imagined a slow motion movie magic moment on which he would enter, walk straight to me, dip me and kiss me in front of everyone. Stamping me as his and showing the world his undying love for me.
Instead, when Todd Schiller finally arrived, he gave me a tight smile, a little wave and proceeded to the other side of the room. And I knew immediately who was responsible.
“Mum, what did you DO??”
“What? Nothing! Oh, although I may have mentioned to Todd that if he put his tongue in my daughter’s mouth or any other orifice of her body that I’d string him up by his balls.”
And let me be clear, my Mum – she can be frightening. Hannibal Lecter, piercing stare, chilling voice. Frightening.
I realize now that her scheming was at the Blair Waldorf end of the scale that week. And obviously all for my own good.
I guess I can only be grateful that the humiliation my mother rained down on me only lasted for three weeks. At which point we moved towns.
Now, I’m off to see if this book really exists. It would make a great Chrissy present for my mum…
**Names have been changed to avoid either “Todd” or “Mulian” ever googling themselves and finding this blog post.