theclumsyredhead.com

I guess it could have been worse. For me, that is.

So you know how you’re standing around with people you kind of know, but not really, so it’s mostly just all small talk? I’m not very good at it; I get nervous and usually say something stupid or something that doesn’t make sense.

I was standing in the hallway at Tess’s school, waiting for them to finish up for the day. I was standing between two moms, listening and nodding along. One mom is a teacher at the school, and she always comes down to say “hi” to her son who’s in the preschool class. She’s really nice and actually went to school with my husband. The other woman is one of those moms who knows everybody and is always “willing to offer” advice, if you know what I mean.

Anyway, so they were talking about joining the neighborhood pool. From what I understand, it’s a nice little pool and they have parties and things like that, but there’s a very long waiting list. It’s the first thing everyone in the neighborhood asked me when we moved in. It’s the place to be and be seen around here. Let’s be honest, I have no intention of spending several hundred dollars to chase Jack around the pool while I get burnt to a crisp (translucent skin – I’m a redhead, remember?) and make sure none of the other kids pick on Tess. I am not above shoving a snotty little girl down, people, and blaming it on my clumsiness.

So the teacher mom says they were number 73 on the list, but actually got in. And I said something like, “Yeah, we were going to put our names on the list but I didn’t get to it this year.” She apparently heard something totally different and said, “Oh, you didn’t get in? What number were you?” Now, because I get nervous and don’t like to correct people I don’t really know (or who may play some part in shaping my children’s future), I didn’t repeat what I said. Instead, I chose: “Oh, I can’t remember, I just know we didn’t get in.” She looked at me like I was the biggest weirdo-liar she’d ever met. An extremely long, awkward pause followed.  Awesome.

The conversation between the two moms continued and I tried to kind of slink away from them, but the hallway is really narrow and Jack was holding on to my leg, so I looked more like a peg-legged pirate trying to avoid the spotlight while escaping from the prison yard. Yeah, totally nonchalant.

So, my only option now is to pretend like that never happened. But I can’t do that, because now whenever I see either of them, I’m going to be thinking that they think I’m a weirdo-liar, which means when I do see them, my face will turn bright red and I will upchuck a bunch of words on them which will further the notion that I am indeed a weirdo. Thank God there’s only a month left of school. I think putting three months between us will lessen my weirdo-liar status. Of course, when school starts in the fall, I’ll have another whole year to present my awkwardness to a new group of parents. My poor kids are so screwed.

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