Wrap up…aka humiliations gallery

Standard

Prologue If my husband had his way, this blog would be known as “Humiliations Gallore”; the title aptly stolen from The Princess Bride’s  Inigo Montoya’s  conversation with Miracle Max  Miracle Max: Wait. Wait. I make him better, Humperdinck suffers? Inigo Montoya:Humiliations galore! Miracle Max: That is a noble cause. Give me the sixty-five, .. But upon closer examination, every one and their brother has a blog or a site with that name, therefore…..

Last night when I sat down to write this blog, I asked the doll, “Can you remember a time when you were really really embarrassed about something?  If so, what was it and how long did it take you to laugh at what had happened?”  “Mom, I don’t understand what your asking me and even if I did, I wouldn’t tell you…” she replied.  “Now doll, you’re taking an awful big chance leaving it up to me to come up with something on  my own…..” I replied; hoping to scare her into an answer.  I was met with the doll, grabbing  kitchen door and closing it; leaving me isolated in the kitchen.  I guess reliving embarrassments is my thing, not hers.

0602012 was a year of fun.  I don’t know how other years’ compare-in the fun department; but so far as my memory holds, 2012 is right up at the top.  My family traveled to St. Maartin in the Virgin Islands and spent a week in paradise–literally.  We traversed back and forth from the Dutch side to the French side and marveled at the differences–particularly in clothing; or the lack there of… As we walked along Orient Beach, the doll scrunched her nose and asked, “Mommy, why is everyone on that side of the beach naked?”  “Doll, ” interjected the boy, “Had you been paying attention to Happy Harold you would understand, the French side of the beach allows people to sunbathe in the nude”.  “Shut up Boy!! I wasn’t talking to you!” the doll replied.  I repeated the boy’s answer and all was right in the world.  “Mom, all those men are ugly”  the doll pointed out.  Looking down the French side of the beach, I couldn’t help but concur; even Speedo’s would have made and improvement.

*****’

0380022012 was also a year of growing.  There were several times the boy came home very upset with his classmates, over what he deemed as their attempts to mock and humiliate him. “Welcome to junior high!” I would say in my feeble attempts to soothe his ego.  “Mom, they’re all just idiots!”  “Yeah probably; but not any more than you are, Bay.  Kids make fun of one another in hopes no one sees their own flaws.    It’s the nature of the beast”.  I tried to explain.  “That doesn’t justify their actions” He correctly argued.  “No it doesn’t, nor does it yours…  But maybe you can look beyond their flaws–be the bigger kid here….  While we still experienced a few big bumps in the road, his year did improve–especially with his prowess as a quiz bowl athlete.  He led his team to a 9-1 record and received many accolades from classmates for his efforts.  “You know Mama, I really like quiz bowl and the kids all seem to like me”.  He said after the season ended.  “What’s not to like?” Came my typical Mama retort–but what would you expect?007
Speaking of  growing…the boy passed me in height over the summer.  As you can tell from the pictures he’s now a monster.  He wears the same sized pants as his father…and pats me on top of the head, every chance he gets…talk about humiliating… but none can deny what a handsome young man he’s turning into…ugly Xmas sweatshirt aside.

*****

0042012 was the year I took a good look at myself and laughed.  Well honestly, doing so was not difficult, especially when one has an allergic reaction to hair dye.  I remember sitting in the ER waiting room at St. Anne’s Hospital and thinking, “at least your breathing is unaffected and this is kind of funny” (expensive, but funny nonetheless).  Even my hubby got in on the act.  God only knows why I was in such a good mood that day–and found all of this absurd instead of hurt and bitter–which many people told me I should be.  Maybe working the pancake breakfast fundraiser the next day–swollen face and all and reliving the stupidity involved over and over helped.  Or maybe having the good fortune to realize,  my temporary state was nothing compared to others who suffer real chronic problems.

Last week as I fumbled around a local mall trying to buy last minute Christmas items, I decided to purchase some new bras.  “Shhh, MOM!! You’re not supposed say that word out loud” the doll just said over my shoulder.  “Doll, I didn’t say it, I wrote it–different. Besides what do you care?” I asked “You’re not going to tell them that story are you?” She asked.  “Why?  Does it embarrass you?” I reply.  “Yes” the doll answered.  “Why?  It’s about me, not you…”  Using her neck to move her head in a circular motion-dripping in attitude she replied, “Mom you embarrass and humiliate me all the time”.  Smiling back at her I replied “Good! Now we’re even”.

Humiliations and embarrassments aside, 2012 was an awesome year.  Personal growth and laughter made up a large majority of what went on.  As I get older and these days seem to run together, I’m both bewildered by my babies physical growth (when did this happen?) and blessed by what they bring into my life.  I can only hope 2013 brings more of the same–though without a swollen face this time (btdt).

Happy New Year with many blessings to come!

Marsha8of9, the Hub, the boy and the doll,  the terrorist and Brownie too!

Epilogue: One of the most embarrassing moments I shared with the doll,  I wrote about in the blog titled “Of Kitty and doll” (https://marsha8of9.wordpress.com/2012/02/21/of-kitty-and-doll/).  This adventure merits a blog for you all to re-read.  Any attempts by me to rehash the embarrassment will not do the story justice.  If you would like to read the follow-up “Boxes” you can do so here (https://marsha8of9.wordpress.com/2012/02/24/boxes/) as they are companion pieces.
doll.2dyl.1008

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s