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Bad, Bad Day, and Children: Me
Cool
Moms
Last week, I experienced what was to become my new most embarrassing moment. I thought I'd share because everyone needs a good laugh. Please, feel free to share, and we can all laugh and laugh and laugh, while I have flashbacks episodes every time a bird flies by.

First, some background. My sister and I have a running joke about how we're not, and never will be, one of the "cool moms." You know the ones I mean. They're never late to things. They just have the "look." They're cool. They know just what to say in social situations, and their children don't do weird things like drink spilled juice off the store floor (another true story). So, I've accepted that I will never be a cool mom. I'm totally fine with that. I'm embracing it. Being cool is way too much work.

At swim lessons, we have noticed there is a very clear distinction between the cool moms and the uncool moms. The cool moms arrive 15 minutes early, take them to the restroom, make sure their towel is neatly folded and waiting for them inside the designer beach bag. These moms sit in the sun and soak up the rays, adding to their gorgeous tans. Somehow, after sitting in the blazing sun for an hour, their hair is still perfect AND THEY DO NOT SWEAT. So those are the cool moms.

This is me: I get to swim lessons as class is starting, shove whichever kid happens to have a class that hour out of the car without shoes or a shirt and tell them to go get in the water. I tell my other kids to grab the towels (that were still left in the car from lessons the day before), while I get Claire out and put whichever shoes happen to be in the floor on her feet, and then dig through the disgusting back seat to find a rubber band from Noah's rainbow loom so that I can put Claire's hair in a "messy bun," which is code for "I haven't brushed her hair in more days than I can count." I grab my coffee cup and spill coffee down my shirt (this happened more than twice) while reaching in to get the sack full of food and junk that I've thrown in it because we didn't have time to eat breakfast before we left the house. Inevitably, one of the bananas has been squished. I stop to question whether or not I’m wearing the same shirt I wore yesterday, and try to remember if I had spilled coffee on it yesterday.

I walk past the cool moms, with two shoeless kids and one kid in polka dot rain boots, carrying my sack of food, coffee down my shirt, and head for the table that's underneath the small canopy that provides like 6 square feet of shade. I leave with sweat dripping down cracks I didn't even know I had.

This happened every day for 4 weeks. No lie.

SO, last Friday, I sit down. It was the last day of swim lessons, and things were looking pretty good. We weren't late, I hadn't spilled anything, and my kids had actually eaten, but I brought them snacks, like a good mom. I'm sitting back in a chair, trying to get in the shade more, and out of NOWHERE, a freaking bird flies at me AND LANDS ON MY CHEST. Now, this bird isn't just perching. It's flapping and squawking and freaking out. So, as one would expect, I start screaming. Remember, we're at swim lessons, outside, and it's fairly quiet. The kids are in the pool, all the parents are quietly talking. And then I scream. And scream. And try to hit the bird off of my chest. And scream some more. THE BIRD HAD LATCHED ONTO MY SHIRT WITH ITS FEET AND WAS FLAPPING MY FACE. MY FACE.

I want you to picture this. A quiet pool. Cool moms lounging in the sun. People talking about how hot it was. And then out of nowhere, a grown woman piercing the silence with screaming, swatting at a bird flapping on her chest, squawking in her face. Just picture it.

I don't know how long it stayed on there. It couldn't have been more than 15 seconds, but it felt like an eternity. An eternity of screaming and flailing and flapping and squawking -- the bird and I in perfect harmony with our movements and sounds. It finally flew away, and as I raised my face up to look around in shock, every single person in the entire place was staring at me. Everyone. The kids and the life guards in the pool, every parent, including the cool moms. Literally everyone. They were all staring at me with open mouths. And because I am so awkward, I couldn't do anything but laugh. Loudly. And for a long time. I was crying laughing.

And then, a woman came out of the building next to the pool (the brick building with the closed door) because I had been screaming so loudly. She looked over at me, and sighed and said, "Dang. Was it the bird again?" As if this is a thing that happens. A completely normal, every day thing that happens. I have never been so embarrassed. I don't think I can ever look at birds again.

The only thing I can think about is that I AM AN ADULT. This is absurd. These things don't happen to adults! Birds don't flap in the faces of adults. And that would NEVER happen to a cool mom. But this ridiculousness is my life.

So if you have a friend that thinks they've had a bad day, just send them here. This will make them feel better. Seriously, you can share this with your friends, and maybe this ridiculous experience can make someone feel better about themselves.

The final chapter to this story is that the bird flew back and landed on one of the chairs next to me, and my friends (who laughed and laughed at me) all started screaming, and one tried to shoo it away with a magazine, and the bird WALKED ONTO THE MAGAZINE! The lifeguard came over and said, “Here, I’ll take it to the park,” and held the magazine calmly and walked over to the park with it. The bird sat on the magazine the WHOLE way.

(via Confessions of an Uncool Mom)

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found @ 1831 likes ON 2018-07-31 04:12:26 BY sizzle

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