Like most people, I’ve had my share!
My absolute earliest embarrassing moment came when I was about 4. I used to love to sing at the top of my lungs in church, when the hymns were being sung. One of my favorites was “Standing on the Promises”.
I wasn’t able to read yet, so I sang what I thought the adults were singing.
Imagine, if you will, this chubby little girl, in her white Sunday bonnet, white gloves and patent leathers singing so happily…”Stanley, Stanley, Stanley is the promise of Christ our Savior!”
Oh my was I embarrassed when a sweet old lady, leaned over after church one Sunday, gave me a peck on the cheek, and whispered in my ear, “It’s Standing, standing, standing on the promises of Christ my Savior”.
[I still blush over that!]
Years later, when married to my first husband, I had joined him in Texas. He was in the military. One day while he was on post I went downtown and was window shopping. Suddenly, I saw a man about a block and a half ahead of me. I knew it was my husband. [You can see where this is going can’t you?] So I ran toward him. [Come on now…. Stop laughing, cause you already know what’s about to happen! I said stop it!!!] I grabbed him from behind, spun him around and planted a big kiss on his mouth.
Moments later I’m being held at arm’s length, and a deep voice I didn’t recognize says, “Well, thank ya ma’am! I don’t know who you think I am, but I sure would like to be!”
Yeah… I kind of wanted to slide under the sidewalk to get away. Instead, I apologized. And felt his eyes follow me until I slipped into a store just to hide.
I was mortified!
[Come on now! It wasn’t that funny! You can stop laughing any moment now!!!]
Another time I was embarrassed came with my first born child. We were living in Germany at the time. My first husband and I had taken our son to a guesthouse for dinner. He was almost 18-months old, and I was hugely expectant with babies 2 and 3 [twins]. My son decided he was too big for a high chair, so we put him in a booster seat. Then, for some reason, he decided on this particular day to loudly protest to eating with a fork. [Okay… some of you are already laughing. I can tell!] Yeah… leave it to a child of 17-1/2 months not to be able to pronounce all of consonants. Yelling at the top of his lungs, my son lets everyone know….”I don’t wanna a spoon! I wanna f-u-_k!”
Everyone in the dining room turned and looked at us. [Back then, the F-word wasn’t used in public as it seems to be now.]
Thankfully, a delightful waiter knew exactly what my son wanted and rushed a fork over to him.
Christopher turned and proudly showed everyone he had a fork, saying “See? See?”
Me on the other hand? I pretended to drop my fork, and dove under the table looking for it, until the embarrassing moment had passed.
And one of my last embarrassing moments?
[You do know that the older you become, the harder it is to be embarrassed, right? There’s very little that embarrasses me any more.]
Well, I’ve always been open on this blog, and everyone is aware that I have been married more than once. [Oh, come on! You guys are no fun today! You already know where this is headed, too!]
One night I woke up from a very deep sleep, and… well… somehow I called my sweet [kind, loving, and very forgiving!] husband by my ex-husband’s name.
Oh the shame!!!
Sweet man that he is, he quickly covered it up, and said “Honey, wake up, you must be having a dream.”
What a guy!
Okay… now really…you can stop laughing.
Honestly! Stop now…any moment!
Well, if you’re just gonna keep on laughing, I’ll have to save anything else for another time.
I said stop!!!