I. Am. Embarrassing.
Or so I’m told by my oldest.
Embarrassing with a capital E.
Maybe with a few exclamation points thrown in.
In fact, I do not even have to work at this quality. It comes effortlessly to me. My very breathing is embarrassing.
And, being a bit of a contrarian, I find that since I have become so embarrassing (when some latent gene went to his brain at the age of 12 and this truth was suddenly revealed to him), I work hard at being extremely embarrassing, even though I don’t have to do so.
Because if you’re embarrassing anyway, you may as well have fun with it.
So when I walk up to him at a class bowling party to ask what he would like to drink, and he turns beet red and pretends he does not know me—I lean in, give him a hug and say, “What was that, sweetums?”
As he flushes a deeper crimson color and mumbles under his breath, “Mom, you are EMBARRASSING me,” I ruffle his hair and ask his friend if I am truly so embarrassing.
“Nah, Mrs. R. You’re awesome!” he says, smiling and giving me a fist bump.
Take that, evil spawn.
When his friends sleep over, I dance and sing while flipping pancakes. To music he disgustedly calls “yodeling hippie music.” Michael Stipe would be appalled—or maybe flattered; I’m not sure which.
One of his friends decides to dance along with me. My son cannot believe this boy is not acting as if burning acid is being poured over his entire body. I can see it amazes him that his pal does not see how utterly humiliating this situation is.
Worse yet, in drop-off line at school, I chair dance. Meaning, I dance in my seat while we wait to be able to drop him off. At which point he tries to physically restrain me, saying, “Mom, people can SEE you!”
Yes, dear child, they can. And some will like me and laugh along with me. Others will not. What the years will teach you, I hope, is that the journey is short and what others think is really irrelevant. This applies tenfold to the small-minded fellow earthlings that will cross your path.
Cue the yodeling hippies. I feel a dance coming on. Care to join me?
If you won’t, Ellen will. Looks like she is embarrassing too. How about you?