If the indignity I suffered during my sister's wedding last month wasn't enough, my kids decided to put me through the ringer again this past week. There's nothing like having kids to keep you humble, huh?
To start the party off, Natalie took advantage of my full hands in Panera last Sunday on our way out the door. I was carrying Michaela Byrd in one arm and had a drink in my other hand. We were standing near the pick-up counter waiting for my mom when I felt a familiar hint of a breeze.
I remembered this sensation because that's what it felt like when my 3 1/2 year old flicked the back of my dress around in front of the entire wedding reception at Alison's wedding.
I looked down and saw that she wasn't really paying attention to what she was doing...she was just sort of absentmindedly tugging at the hem of my dress.
"Natalie," I said. "Please let go of my dress." I tried to twist away a little.
That's when this evil little mischievous glint of understanding came into her eyes and she giggled.
Before I knew what was happening, the entire back lower half of my dress was being flapped up and down like one of those parachute things. Yes, she saw an opportunity for some fun and took it. I'm sure she felt as powerful as a 3 1/2 year old can feel in that moment.
In a scene from a nightmare in slow motion, I pulled and flailed about in an effort to extract my dress hem from the sticky little fingers of my oldest and most devious child.
On the bright side, I was wearing leggings and standing behind the wall that separates the dining room from the pick-up counter. I guess the downer was that we were in full view of the cash registers and people standing in line to order. I hope they didn't lose their appetites.
To put the icing on the cake, Michaela Byrd decided that the humiliation I endured wasn't quite enough.
Our church's senior pastor (ie. the big whig) happened to come across our path as I was extracting my kids from L's van in the church parking lot on Tuesday morning.
Michaela Byrd had decided that L's van was the perfect jungle gym wonderland, and threw a huge hissy fit as I dragged her out of one of the carseats.
As our pastor tried to politely ignore my youngest's wails of protest, she grabbed a fistful of my V-neck teeshirt and pulled. Straight down.
I was so horrified that I couldn't even bear to look up and see if he was an unwilling witness.
In that split second, I was thankful that we attend a Baptist church.
I think a Catholic priest might have excommunicated me on the spot.
And all I can think of now is Teri Hatcher, angrily spouting to Jerry Seinfeld, "They're real. And they're spectacular."