Varying Degrees of Humiliation

Hmm. This week can and will be categorized in my "let's just forget it ever happened" life's experiences. Okay, AFTER I post about it, anyway. I guess I have to keep some sort of record; just to look out for my children, and when they wonder why their mother is overcome with anxiety and odd neurosis. I'm hoping that maybe I can just say, "There's surely some explanation in my blog records that I've kept and printed and bound for each of you, in anticipation of this exact circumstance". Or maybe I won't say exactly that, but you get the gist of what may happen one day. And also? Quit judging me.
So, this week and my humiliations. Well, where to start. How about Tuesday? Seeing as how Jeff had Monday off, I didn't really do much but take the kids to school, sleep, and watch some Reno 911s. There's a certain safety in that routine that I just can't complain about. However, Tuesday is when it went terribly wrong. I again got the kids to school, then had to rush to Orem, as I had my official first weekly appointment. But I was a little early, so I went to my favorite place-Target-to just kill about forty-five minutes. Mmmkay, you know when you're walking into a store, and someone is right behind you? You really only have two choices. Either stop to the side of the doors, and let them go in, because obviously they are in more of a hurry then you are. Or, you can quickly set the pace, and get in, and veer to the carts section. This is helpful because if they need a cart, they can go to one of the five rows of waiting ones, and be on their way. Or, if they're just there for a quick something, they'll simply bypass the carts, and you have again avoided ruining their quick in and out experience. I know this through years of practice. I do all of our grocery shopping--with the occasional exception of when Jeff will do it, and return with some ice cream and cookies that supposedly will last a family of four for the entire week. But that's beside the point.
So as I was approaching the doors into Target, I saw the "I'm in a real hurry" guy behind me, and I opted for the hurry-in-and-get-to-the-carts choice. However, my faith in the electronic opening doors was in vain. The doors at Target open inward, inviting all to come inside, out of the cold, and check out their amazing clearance selections in every department. I hurried towards those doors, and watched as they began to open for me. The man behind was still very much in a hurry, so slowing wasn't an option. However, just as I was going through the doors, they decided to stop....and me, being a lot larger than I realize sometimes, effectively got stuck...inside the doors. So I am struggling in between two doors that won't budge. My belly is about through, and my hips can't follow. I kind of panicked, and struggled at bit, only to notice that I really couldn't move at all, and it was effectively tightening the doors around me. "Hurry Guy" waited for me for like, two seconds, and rolled his eyes while huffing, effectively letting me know that I was in more than one way a huge inconvenience, and opted for the manual doors. Embarrassed, I quit struggling, forced myself not to start bawling, and took a deep breath. Apparently, the lack of motion allowed the doors to open from squeezing my unborn child, and I was able to get through. From there I went to the restroom to hide for about five minutes, assuring myself that whomever had the boring job of watching the security tapes of people coming in and out, got an eyeful, and at least they'll have something worthy to talk about at break time.
After assuring myself that the people that had witnessed the entire event had maybe made their way to the produce section or something, I went out, got myself a cart and did some unnecessary shopping--something that always makes me feel better.
At my appointment I didn't have to be checked. YAY! I hate that part, I really do. Not that it's fun for the doctors, by any means...but it's painful and humiliating, and leads you to think about the more painful and humiliating things to come...and it's just an overall downer. My doctor gave me some Prilosec to help me deal with heartburn that had me puking up stomach acid, and I was then on my way out. (Side note: Prilosec for heartburn is FABULOUS. My sisters had tried to convince me, and I don't get it often, except for when I'm pregnant. But if you need any relief in that area, go for it).
I made the short trek to the front desk to schedule my next exam, and then waited behind a young guy that was being scheduled for some heart tests because he has a murmur--not very big on the privacy practice at my doctor's office, apparently. Anyway, I notice that he looked at my stomach...something that happens regularly. But instead of looking away, he just kind of stared for longer than comfortable. I looked down after wondering what was there, to see the bottom of my bare belly hanging out of my shirt. Apparently after the doctor had measured me, I didn't do a good enough job of pulling my maternity pants up and my shirt down, effectively leaving like four inches of tummy hanging out for the world to see. Remember the Friends episodes where Rachel is pregnant, and she's so fashionable and cute that she can wear belly shirts and tank tops and such? I'm the opposite of that. My belly looks like a beer gut that you have to lift up to button the tops of your pants...and really, what it feels like, too. I just hope I didn't add any extra stress to that kid's heart problems. But that's what he gets for looking.
Lastly, because Tuesday had so many prime examples and this post will be too long if I admit them all, was me going to a meeting for the parents of Kindergartners at Cole's school. First off, I was kind of pissed that it was supposed to last for an entire hour and a half. I mean, it was a "mandatory" seminar for all parents to help our kids learn how to read. And Jeff or I read with Cole every night. He reads to us his little school books, or we read stories he wants to hear, so I thought we were on the right track. Also, I really didn't have a clue as to what we'd be expected to do in that long of time. But I found out that it would be as humiliating as possible. We all got little activity booklets that we need to do with our kindergartners daily for "obvious success" which was just fine. What wasn't fine, however, was that we were then expected to pair up with other parents there, (now the pairing up thing? Seriously one of the best parts of NOT being in school anymore. I hated it then, and not surprisingly, I still hate it now), and go through EVERY activity in the book. The first lesson for us was "praising" your kindergartner's accomplishments. So I had to listen to my partner read, and inject in a very excited voice, "good job!" or "That's Right!" or "Wow, you're such a great reader!" While she read me: John and his blue car sat on the side walk.
Sometimes I think I'm really funny...and when I'm in an uncomfortable situation, I try to loosen things up. So my partner and I started to giggle about how ridiculous we felt about the whole thing...when a little old lady came over and explained that she taught kids everyday that can't read, and that they aren't praised in a correct way, and that it's so sad to her that parents don't take this sort of thing seriously. Uuuuh. After that, I knew it was possible to feel even dumber during this activity.
From there, I decided to take the whole ordeal seriously, and try to be better, and went through most of the book without incident. Until we got to the rhyming part...where we were supposed to introduce "phonetical agents" into our reading regimes. My partner was supposed to say a line from a poem, and I was supposed to fill in the blank because according to phonetic balance, I could just "hear" what would be coming. So my partner goes: Jack and Jill went up the hill to fetch a pail of ______ " And I said "water." She praised me appropriately, and then said: "Jack fell down and broke his______" to which I answered, "neck?" Just cause I'm a tard, okay? I thought it would be funny....and something that Cole would say. We kind of laughed, and that little old lady came over again and asked me if I'd ever read nursery rhymes with my child, and I replied yes, and she said that she hopes I took it more seriously than I did here, because phonetic balance is so important, and she hopes that I try to ensure as much understanding as I can to my child. Embarrassed yet again, I went off to my partner about how I'm glad that lady wasn't Cole's teacher, and what's she doing teaching? She's ancient and smells weird, and all the kids are probably afraid of her because she looks like a gremlin. My partner politely smiled and gave me a pity laugh, and then informed me that that old lady was HER son's teacher.
And that was my Tuesday. This is why I much prefer to be lazy and take naps and watch TV than go out in public, wear regular clothing, and interact with people. Hopefully after I'm pregnant, most of this will go away. I'll still stick my foot in my mouth, because I always do that. But the embarrassing uncontrollable body parts? I'm SO ready to be done with those.