Misfit

I’m chewing a piece of Big Red cinnamon flavored gum. It’s yummy, but kind of gritty. Like someone rolled it in sand before I popped it in my mouth. Serves me right I suppose. I let my eighteen month son rummage through my purse over the weekend and I guess stomping on the gum was part of the fun. The worst damage was to my glasses, which I forgot were in the purse. I have bent them back as best I could, but I’m sure I’ll get some people cocking their heads sideways when they talk to me.

We have to attend a parent only school function this weekend. It’s at one of the other Kindergarten parent’s house. I’m dreading it. Not for the usual reason that I hate small talk, but for the brand new reason that I’m horrified to show up at their house again. Let me explain…the weekend before last, my huzzy and I booked grandma to babysit with the intention of going to the parent shindig. We showed up at this beautiful home with wine and a side dish in hand. The guy who answered the door seemed a little surprised to see us, but he introduced himself and let us in. We were in the kitchen, with the rest of the guests, mingling and enjoying a glass of wine. It was kind of odd because we kept trying to talk to people about school related things by asking questions such as, “So, whose dad are you?” They would respond with something like, “that’s my son over there, pointing to the 17 year old in the corner”. Or, “I don’t have kids, I’m so-an-so’s co-worker”. Ok. Fine. So they invited some of their other friends to the parent party. Maybe not enough parents could come. No big deal. A half an hour into the party the hostess discreetly comes up to my husband and me and asks us if we are there for the kindergarten party. We reply that we are. And she drops the bomb shell that we are two weeks early. The party had been moved some time ago due to a conflict with a school event. We have just crashed her crab boil. Ugh. She was very gracious and invited us to stay for dinner anyway, but we were mortified. I gulped my wine down in one sip and we were outta there. But now they think we’re morons and I never want to go back. But I don’t want to look like a chicken shit druggie mom either so I have to. Double Ugh. Normally, I look forward to the weekend, but this week could not go slowly enough for me.

It is not lost on me that I’m becoming more of a misfit as I get older. I feel like I hit my stride in my teens and twenties and it’s been a gradual decline ever since. Not in the “I used to be homecoming queen and my life sucks now” kind of way. Just that I seem to struggle more as an adult with fitting in, and being coordinated. This weekend I fell off a ladder when I was getting my clothes out of the crawl space. Last week I hit billboard pole parking the car. And the weekend before that…well, I won’t go there again. I am consistently embarrassed. I think I would make an excellent shut in.