It Doesn't take Much to Embarass a Daughter

I honestly can think of only one time my mom embarrassed me in public. I was a sophomore  at college and my parents had come down to UD to bring me back home for the summer. Some friends of mine--who happened to be males--helped load my car. When they were done and we were ready to leave, my mom gave them hugs and kisses. My mom was never a spontaneous or demonstrative person and this was too much! She barely gave me hugs and kisses. What was she doing?

Well, I now have two girls of my own, both sophomores: one in high school and one in college. I am twelve years younger than my mom was when I was a sophomore at college and I now know what it was all about: my mom was getting herself some sugar from a few young men.

When you become a certain age, you can do things that you never would have thought of doing in public when you were younger AND GET AWAY WITH IT... unless your daughters are with you. Well, you still get away with it, but you have to listen to your daughters tell you that they are so embarrassed.

I don't go out of my way to do this. I take after my dad who could--and would--talk to anyone he came across. We just can't help it. If you make eye contact with us or say hi, we take this you being open to our friendly advances.  I also don't have a working filter: if it enters my head, it will come out my mouth. I can pretty much go up to anybody and start talking. And now that I am a married old woman, I flirt...alot. I am no longer tongue-tied around men no matter their age or level of hotness.*

I know I am oblivious, but I don't think too many people are that put off by me. In fact, I think people can sense that I mean no harm. I am here to make contact and do good. And sometimes--actually many, many times--people reciprocate. Especially old men shopping with their wives. Those guys are worst than me!

Although my girls say it has embarrassed them, it has also come in handy. Like when we needed help moving Leanne's mini-fridge into her dorm room. We were lucky enough to have a very fit/muscular young man come our way. I asked, he said yes, and we got the mini-fridge up two flights of stairs and to her room. I made sure to stay with him to open doors and keep him safe. Along the way, I learned his name, that he was taking some time off before starting grad school out of state, and that he used to play football. Too bad he already had a girlfriend because he was a very nice young man.

And yes, I have actually told a very nice young man that he was "a very nice young man". I may have done it more than just this once, but there is one Leanne remembers the most. It may have been a contributing factor to her not choosing to attend that particular college.

I do try to temper my actions and speech in public, but my girls don't believe me. I am just not as hyper-aware as they are. Leanne is old enough to not care as much, but I know it is not easy when I:

• Sing and dance in public
• Get distracted by bright and shiny things
• Talk loudly everywhere
• Think out loud in front of strangers
• Argue with myself in front of strangers
• Misbehave and get giggle fits in solemn places and situations
• Find sexual innuendo in almost everything
• Write a blog entry about showering with Christopher Meloni 
• Knock things over with my errant right hand**

Will they embarrass their kids? They'd better. When you get become a mom--or a dad--it's the one thing that gives you happiness. I think it's good to teach your children not to take themselves so seriously. I also think of it as training to prepare them for when I become really old and do some of the things my mom did in her latter years. Things like touching items at the art museum and gleefully exclaiming in a public restroom that she was finally able to poop.

Yes, I think my girls will be great parents to me when I become older.

*Well, there was that one time when I was working at Borders and I helped this guy that took my breathe away and I am pretty sure I just giggled.

**As I finished typing this line, I knocked over my lemonade with my errant right hand. Luckily I spilled it mostly on my pants.