What to say... what to say... This has been the longest hiatus from blogging that I have taken since starting to write. I thought that I was just sending my brand of crazy out into cyber world with out anyone listening until I started to get emails wondering if Child Protective Services really had picked me up, or if I had been abducted by aliens. But alas, no, I simply had my life blow up in my face. So now after like 2 weeks of no writing I am forced to grapple with what to tell you about.I mean, should it be the addition? my dying garden? Or perhaps the rotting food on my counter that calls to me in my sleep as I dream of being attacked by smooshy cucumbers and squash. Should it be the first day of school? Nah...You know that my life is much more interesting than that...Ah...how about the fact that my son now feels the need to feel my up in public at very inappropriate times? Yeah, that is definitely more what you expect from me huh, yeah I know my pigeon hole don’t worry.So apparently I cannot wear a certain tank top in public with my son any more. I bought two of them. (They are not risqué mind you...I mean I got them at Eddie Bauer outlet... how risqué is Eddie Bauer? Seriously, they are the mom clothes of my generation, so we aren't talking sexy back here.) But whenever I wear them, my son has a very inappropriate response.
Yesterday while talking to my sister at the library, Henry felt the need to run his hands up and down the front of me enough that my sister and I, in a serious conversation, were trying not to spew coffee out our noses. I thought that it was a fluke; Henry was trying to get my attention because I was chatting with Steph.
BUT NO, I had to mail a package at the UPS center. I was trying to discuss the tracking number, and how this was going to work and again, my son, felt the need to feel me up in front of the man behind the counter (who was about 23 or so). So here is how it went down folks:
I put him down saying “stop it” in my embarrassed quiet voice.
Henry: “WHY?” in his screechy toddler voice
Me: “Henry, I am trying to talk to this man”
Man: Trying to look away, and pretend there was something really interesting on the ceiling, and on the floor, so that I might not notice that HE noticed that my son was inappropriately touching me.
Henry: “BUT I WANT YOU TO HOLD ME”
Me: “OK, I will hold you, but you need to sit still” still being squirrelly about addressing the real situation at hand.
I pick Henry back up, and immediately, he starts rubbing his hand up and down the front of my shirt. I put him down immediately. Being done with my transaction, I just say thank you and start to head out of the store. The man is clearly trying not to laugh, my face is BURNING…so could this just end like this? Nothing said, no mention of it, and everyone just pretending I didn’t just have a moment like tripping over the sidewalk in front of everyone…OH NO!
As we are leaving, Henry yells out at the top of his voice while stomping his feet
“BUT MOMMY I WANT TO FEEL YOUR BOOBAHS”
As I opened the door to leave, I hear the guy behind the counter along with everyone else in the entire store bust out laughing.
Yeah, I won’t be showing my face in that store again anytime soon.