What happens when three highly sensitive empaths face a busted-up nose emergency?
The first one (and oldest one might I add) starts yelling at the victim of the accident – he’s so overwhelmed by all the feels that he cannot handle it!
The second one (the youngest) cries and is then is compelled to run over with first aid and weep while comforting the nose victim.
The third — the one with the bruised nose and ego — cries not because her nose hurts or is bleeding profusely but because a. her husband yelled at her and it hurt her feelings (for real) and b. she is SO EMBARRASSED that she ran into a glass door. Seriously. You can’t make this up.
She then asked to be alone so she could cry it all out. Why she was so sad she does not know! IT WAS JUST SO UPSETTING, upsetting all of those empaths!
For real, the whole experience was very intense. Welcome to my household of highly sensitive folks! My daughter and I snuggled for a while and talked about how even if mommy has a broken nose she will be ok! Heck, maybe she can upgrade to a new nose like Jennifer Aniston did!
Wishing you all a beautiful day of thanksgiving. As I type I have a sick kid playing with intagram filters on my phone, two old beagles barking at a little old man with his dog outside, and a cold coffee with no milk because we ran out. I’m thankful for all if this beautiful mess of life!
May your day be filled with a bounty of pie and streaming netflix. So much love to you all and thank you for reading, subscribing, liking and commenting and sharing!
I’d like to think that the truck full of young males headed to a landscaping job, sitting idle next to me at a stoplight, were cracking up at my dance moves because they were wowed by them and impressed by this forty-something’s swagger.
But I’m pretty sure they thought I looked like Elaine from Seinfeld.
“Mom, this is why I ask you not to dance.” Thanks a lot, peanut gallery!
Sure am glad I didn’t dawdle getting to the airport and while running late accidentally park my rental car in the wrong return lane and be told I have to go inside to fix it, only to find out that no I need to go backoutside to get a slip from the very chatty car dude who I can’t help but be kind to and explain that yes, it’s definitely still hot in Florida right now! I know crazy! To then return to said counter to wait for my receipt that they apparently decided to travel back to 1994 to print on a dot matrix printer. zeet. zeet. Zeet. zeeeeeep. (Repeat approx. 1,367 times.) To then sit on the SLOWEST SHUTTLE BUS EVER and arrive at the terminal and discover my flight leaves in, oh, half and hour, and run to check my bag (because somehow having tiny shampoo bottles in my luggage is still a threat to national security) to then get stuck in a long line of millennials staring at phones in what is perhaps the Longest. Security. Line. Ever. Especially for a second rate rust belt city (I can say this I’m from this region) to then *almost* make it through security except for my laptop that is arousing suspicion and must be checked by the guy with a mysterious magical wand-stick. To then shoe-up and run and I mean RUN to the farthest end of the terminal while overhearing the Southwest gate agent say “final call for passenger Sarah Dee-MA-Teee-no” as I’m still wildly running, dodging couples and children while The Weekend sings in the background I’m tryna put you in the worst mood, ah/P1 cleaner than your church shoes, ah which makes me feel like a badass in a movie scene (until I realize my laptop bag is hitting my butt every two seconds which is not sexy. Not at all.) To then arrive at the gate as the guy is about to shut the door, and cough out my name, wheezing and sweating and and laughing with the cool luggage attendant dude (unlike the check-in dude who is ALL business ok whatever lol) only to be the very last person on the plane (THE ONE TIME I have an A35 southwest spot in line!!!) to then sit in a middle seat but whatever that’s cool cuz I’m making it home!, and cough up half a lung for like twenty minutes and have no water and question the sufficiency of my current exercise regimen and fly to Atlanta and discover my next flight is delayed.
Remember naked Moana from yesterday? I’d be failing you if I didn’t tell you the whole naked Moana story.But first, some background.
It turns out that every Friday is show-and-tell day in my 4-year-old’s preschool room. I didn’t know and I was intrigued. What exactly had my kid bringing to class show-and-tell these last few weeks?
A recent Friday I asked if she shared anything. “Yes, mommy of course! I brought a chip clip!”
“Yes, a chip-clip!”
(That’s right, my four-year-old brought to school a bag-clip thing you use to keep your bag of Lays closed.) I was a little worried.
“Oh wow a chip clip, huh? So what did your classmates say when you showed them the clip?”
“They said it was red!”
It was indeed.
This is where I should’ve known better and stayed out of my daughter’s affairs. Let the child bring whatever object she likes! Stop worrying about the potential frowns of her peers who perhaps don’t appreciate the fine spring mechanisms of the chip clip. My commitment to raising a resilient child rather than a child protected from every hurt was suddenly thrown out the window. Buh-bye!
After that Friday I started reminding her that Friday was show-and-tell day. Which brings us to naked Moana.
We were running late that particular Friday. I reminded my daughter it was show-and-tell day and I started suggesting toys within my sight: how about curious George? Or her toy camera?
She grabbed Moana. Moana was missing her skirt. Are you sure you want to bring Moana? Yes, she was sure.
(I don’t need to tell you that Moana’s skirt was nowhere in sight.)
I made a split-second decision–we would take (half-naked) Moana to school. I mean, all kids play with half-naked dolls, right?
When we arrived to preschool the other kids greeted my kid. . .by lifting their shirts and exclaiming LOOK AT MY SWIMSUIT! Friday also happened to be “water day” where they could wear a swimsuit and play in sprinklers and kiddie pools. My kid lifted her dress and showed her suit to her teacher, Miss M. Miss M. looked slightly horrified and said, they are always such exhibitionists on swim day!
Before I continue, let me tell you about Miss M. She is a grandmother of two. She loves to tell stories and teases the children about how all birthdays are going to be cancelled except hers, which is met with roars of laughter and NO MISS M!! At a recent school event with parents Miss M. read aloud a book about a bunny and when finished said in a conspiring tone to the parents, “I have another story about a bunny–how my father once held a party for his friends and had someone dress up as a bunny to convince the drunk guests they were REALLY losing it, but that is a story for another day!”
So when I casually mentioned to Miss M that speaking of exhibitionists, “Oh hey, Z. brought a half-naked Moana doll for show and tell, aren’t kids hilarious?” I was not expecting her to freak out.
But freak out she did.
To make matters worse, somewhere between home and school, Moana’s bikini top flittered away and Moana went from being half-naked Moana to becoming Full Monty Moana.
I’ve never seen Miss M look so appalled.
I was squirming now.
Oh, well all kids end up playing with these dolls naked, right? I bet the kids won’t even notice, I laughed nervously.
Miss M’s face: still horrified.
“Oh, well you just don’t know what they will grab to bring for show and tell do you! I didn’t even realize she grabbed the naked doll, silly me!” (YES I TOTALLY THREW MY KID UNDER THE BUS.)
I just kept talking and talking as one tends to do when situations are awkward. I finally realizedmaybe it hadn’t been entirely appropriateto bring this doll to show-and-tell. I asked Miss M if she wanted me to take it home with me– because really, I could, no problem!
No, no, it was fine, she assured me, still with her deer-in-headlights look.
This is the story of how I learned to BUTT-OUT OF SHOW-AND-TELL. Don’t ask, don’t tell.Sure, kiddo, bring more chip clips!
(And hey, do you have an extra one? Maybe I’ll use one to keep my mouth shut.)
After all this transpired I ran into another parent and mentioned the Moana incident. The parent laughed and said, yeah, one day their daughter brought azippered jacket to class show-and-tell. Huh.
Turns out that four-year-olds know exactly what they are doing thank-you-very-much. Chip clips welcome. Naked Moanas, not so much.
I made the mistake a few weeks ago of making bunny-shaped pancakes at Easter and now my four-year-old thinks I’m capable of great pancake feats. Hence her request today for a “horse-shaped” pancake. She even wanted it to have “nooves” (she was struggling to remember the word hooves.)
Well, my lil’ cowgirl running around naked in her red cowboy boots was too hard to say no to. I cautioned that the hooves might be a level of detail not capable with the pancake medium. She shrugged and was like, ok but please still make a horse pancake?
You all, this might be stating the obvious but it’s hard to make pancakes look like horses.
Me to kid: here is your horse pancake! Just know that it kind of sort of looks like a horsey.
Kid: I see it!
Me (not believing her): yeah!?Where do you think the tail is?
Listen you guys, she found the “tail”!
I have officially won motherhood today.
UPDATE: I forgot to add that after she ate her pancake she brought over a plastic toy horse and said, “Mommy, this is what a horse looks like!” Like I didn’t know. Like my pancake didn’t look like a horse or something.