Have you ever had expectations and then the reality falls painfully short? Those times when you think back to that expectation and then what really happened, and you cringe. And by cringe I mean sitting in the corner of a room in the fetal position rocking back and forth until the horrible memory of what took place goes away. Aye, yai, yai! This recently happened to me (again).
Admittedly, I haven’t put a ton of effort into soliciting friendship from my youngest son’s friends’ moms. By the time I got to child number three, I found myself generationally older, and frankly, in a different place in my life than many of those lovely young moms whose oldest children were placed with my youngest.
However, I met a really great mom whose son was in swim lessons with my son. We hit it off. She’s smart, kind of a badass, has strong parenting skills, and she doesn’t take herself too seriously. All the things I look for in a potential mommy friend.
We swapped numbers and agreed to get our boys together for a play date. A few days later the badass mommy sent me a text asking if we wanted to join her and her son at the pool to play. Hooray! She likes us, we like them - this is super terrific!
We met the topnotch mom and her darling son at our local pool. We had a good time playing, chatting, and getting to know each other. All was well with the world until we moved to the baby pool.
Yes… the godforsaken baby pool - the 1.5-foot deep bacteria, feces, and Band-Aid-filled cesshole. While in the baby pool my darling angel son did not want to share his Louis The Lobster Claw toy with his new friend. All kinds of whining hell broke loose. Damn it! Just behave! I like your new friend’s mom.
In an effort to intervene and hopefully rectify this Louis The Lobster Claw meltdown, I decided to hop into the poop-filled abyss of the baby pool. However, when I stepped down, I underestimated the pool’s depth (I have shitty depth perception). I stumbled and fell completely in. Not only did I fall completely in, I took my son and my new mommy friend’s son with me. F***!!!! Cringe.
I felt horrible and apologized profusely. The mom friend was kind and cordial. I couldn’t even look at the judgy moms watching on the other side of the fecal baby pool. I am sure I was the topic of conversation for three nanoseconds. Cringe.
The boys were fine. I was fine, although my ego was bruised. After the initial shock of a tall woman falling on them wore off, the boys played for a few more minutes. Then I decided to end the misery and wrap up the play date. Cringe.
The nice mom and son were heading on vacation with their family. Then my family went on vacation. It has been a couple of weeks and no word from the new mommy I met. I plan to reach out, but I wouldn’t be surprised if I get a respectful, “Thanks, but we have plans,” response back from her. Cringe.
I will add this incident to the loooooong list of cringe-worthy events in my life. Like that time I had too much to drink at a friend’s 40th birthday party and when I got home, I threw up on one of my kiddos. Or when I was pulled over on my 16th birthday, right after I got my driver’s license, and got a ticket. Oh, or that time I went to a party in a brand new shirt and it still had the size sticker and price tag on the front. People kept staring at my chest making hand gestures to clue me in that I had something on the front of my shirt. I didn’t catch on until I got home. Cringe.
I am sure I will continue to have more cringe-worthy mommy moments. However, I really hope they don’t involve falling into an infectious disease-filled baby pool filled with toddlers. Cringe.
Can’t get enough? Of course not. Here are a couple of my recently published pieces:
Quiz: Cuckoo Bee of Mitch McConnell?, The Belladonna Comedy
Seven Words I Would Have Children S-P-E-L-L If I Were Running The National Spelling Bee, McSweeney’s Internet Tendency
Some Other Fun Blog Posts To Check Out:
Oh, and don't forget...
I don’t have many Twitter followers, so please follow me @smzapalac
. Does that sound desperate?
Like me on Facebook, because I want to be liked. Who doesn’t want to be liked, right? The Little Voice That Lives In My Head
Visit my sub-par web site: www.staceyzapalac.net