Saturday, April 19, 2014
We have all had those embarrassing little moments in life. You know the one. It's like the time my daughter-in-law came in my front door. She opened her mouth to say, "Hi." Instead out came a world champion belch. We still tease her about it.
Well I have had a few of those moments too. I guess it is time for me to disclose them. I am not going to count my thumb-sucking. It was hard to give it up but I think I decided to work at it when I began to go hide so I could suck my thumb. I slept on my hand so it could not make it to my mouth. I was completely cured long before I was old enough to go to school.
The first embarrassment I remember was not my fault. I was to be baptized. In the church we attended babies were on the Baby Roll until they became old enough to ask for baptism. I was 5 years old when I decided it was time.
There was a pool under the stage where the minister stood to deliver his sermon. For baptismal days they would open it up. The minister would wait for us in the pool as we descended the stairs. Then he would cover our noses and mouths with a clean white cloth as he dunked us backward into the water to submerge us. Then it was over and we could take communion.
When it was over we were all wet. Mom did not think about that part of it too much until someone asked where my dry clothes were. Luckily we only lived a block away so she rushed back to get me a change of clothes. When she came back all breathless she handed me my dry clothes. That was when she discovered she had forgotten to bring underwear.
Mom told me to slip off my panties so I would have a pair after the baptism. She told me to be sure to hold my arms to my side so I could hold my dress down and keep things covered. So I was baptized with no panties!
It was late in the day when Mom realized that she needed something from the store for supper. The store closed at 5:00 so I had to be quick. I was in either kindergarten or first grade. I went racing into the store, speeding to the back so I could get to the aisle that held whatever it was I was to buy.
Now keep in mind that I have never been an agile person. I cannot do cart-wheels or hand springs or the splits like so many children can do. Also keep in mind that this was an old-fashioned grocery store in a small town. The floors were made of wood that was kept clean with Murphy's Oil Soap or something like it.
As I raced to the back of the store I was running as fast as I could. I got to the end of the aisle to make my turn and my feet slid on that oiled wooden floor. My legs went out to the side; unfortunately each leg took a different side. I did the splits with my legs straight out to the sides of my body. I landed right on my tailbone. I landed hard on my tailbone.
This was one of those times where when I finally caught my breath I wanted to cry but it hurt so bad I couldn't. That was embarrassing enough. But I had severely bruised my tailbone. I had to carry a pillow to school to sit on... like that did any good.
I was about 11 years old when The Blob came out. The theme song was very popular on the radio. You know the one..
Beware of the blob, it creeps And leaps and glides and slides Across the floor Right through the door And all around the wall A splotch, a blotch Be careful of the blob by Burt Bacharach.
My sister who is four years younger than I am and I wanted to go to the theater to see it. Mom and Daddy said no. It was too scary and we would not like it. That was their reasoning.
I argued that I was working at the bowling alley and had my own money. I should be able to spend it on the movie. Finally they relented but we were not to bother them when we had nightmares. So off we went in a very grown-up way to see The Blob.
About halfway through the movie my sister decided she had enough. We needed to leave. Boy was I relieved. I could blame her for leaving early and being afraid instead of me. Actually I would not have been able to stay much longer.
We were afraid to walk home in the dark. Our little town did not have street lights except for the ones on Main Street. We instead went to the bowling alley where I worked. One of my uncles was working that night. After he teased us for a while he agreed to walk us home and keep our secret of leaving the movie early. We ended up telling on ourselves anyway.
It was time to harvest the cherries from our cherry tree. Naturally I had to climb the tree to do my picking. I loved being in a tree.
So there I was out on a limb and picking cherries to my heart's content. Then there was a loud crack. I looked up and then laughed. Maybe I was little too heavy for the cherry branch. My laughter did not last long. The branch cracked again and accompanied me solidly to the ground.
On a nice summer day I was outside with Mom and my sister. We looked up as a car was pulling into the driveway. It was my boyfriend's car. I was not expecting him so I was happy and jumped up to go meet him. As I got to the car I realized the driver was someone I did not know. Not only that it was not my boyfriend's car. (It sure did look like it)
In order to cover my mistake I just kept on walking. I went across the street and stood in the neighbor's yard. The car was driven by a friend of Daddy's. Of course Daddy told him I thought he was my boyfriend and everybody had a good laugh. Everybody but me.
We had moved into the house we built. It still needed finishing touches but we could do that while we enjoyed our new home.
My third brother is still known for being not very quick to react to an odd situation. This will come into play here.
One day I was in the bathroom doing what one does in there. Suddenly the door that did not as yet have a lock on it was opened wide. My brother stood there with his hand on the door knob and a group of about five of his friends behind him.
After what seemed to be hours he veeeerrrrry slowly said, "Oh... Emma's in there." And they all just stood there like deer caught in the headlights, looking. I started screaming for him to shut the door. He looked blankly at me and said, "Oh." and finally closed the door.
I took my children out to dinner. My daughter ordered a hamburger with extra pickles. She loves pickles. When the food came there were no extra pickles.
I thought it would be a good learning experience for her so I told her to get the attention of the waitress next time she went by and remind her that she had asked for extra pickles. She could not get the attention of the waitress.
I told her I would show her how to do it. The next time the waitress walked by I leaned out a bit and said, "Excuse me... excuse me...... excuse me..." and she just kept on going. My youngest son looked at me and said, "I'll bet you feel pretty dumb right now."
A dear friend was being married. It was a beautiful wedding. The reception was held at the home of the groom. His family had a lovely and large yard. It was a beautiful day. Everyone was enjoying themselves.
I was wearing a lovely dress with a nice flower print. It matched the early summer afternoon perfectly.
The food was served buffet style and it was wonderful. One of the foods I chose was meatballs in marinara sauce. They were delicious. Meatballs are difficult to eat with plastic tableware. I went to delicately cut one so it could be placed delicately into my mouth.
You guessed it. That meatball jumped from my plate onto the front of my dress. It landed near the top of my chest. But wait... there's more. It bounced to just above my waist. Hold on... there's still more. Then it landed in my lap. There I sat with three, count them, three huge tomato colored spots on my new dress.
Our house had old, very old, wood floors. It was Christmas morning. The kids opened all their presents and we were all just enjoying each other and our new gifts. Some of the gifts needed to be put together.
One of the kids took their gift to their dad for him to "fix" it. He needed tools and an assistant. Someone brought the tools and I slid across the floor to help. I felt a sharp pain as I slid. Splinter.
We put the toy together and then I had to ask my husband if he would pull the splinter from my backside. How embarrassing. But it was worse than that.
My husband had no problem finding the splinter. A small bit of the end was still outside the skin. But he could not grasp it. He said I might have to go to the emergency room to have it removed. How embarrassing.
He finally took a pair of needle-nose pliers to try to get a grip on the splinter. With the pliers grasping the splinter he placed his foot against one of my hips for leverage as I laid on my stomach on the bed, my husband pulled and tugged and wiggled that splinter until it finally came out. It was a little over an inch long and had gone straight in instead of sliding nicely under the skin. But he got it out. How Embarrassing!