Coffee Cup

Laugh It Off

Coffee Cup

I get embarrassed easily. I get embarrassed when I catch myself muttering aloud when I’m home alone. I only dance when NO ONE is watching (or after 2.5 cocktails). I get uncomfortable when someone is standing in front of my favorite peanut butter in the grocery store. What to do? Hover behind them creepily? Come back later and hope they’re gone? Or horror of horrors, actually speak to them?

Luckily, now that I’m a mom, that self-consciousness has disappeared. Well, sort of. It’s still there. I just don’t have time to care about it now.

My first public Mom Mishap happened when my son was 5 months old. Just when I finally had my diaper bag situation in order (aka remembering to restock diapers/wipes, learning to keep a extra bottle/snack supply), I went out in public for a nice Saturday breakfast. In the 2 seconds after my husband left the table and I took my eyes off my amazing new baby, that baby reached out and dumped a full cup of ripping hot coffee on my lap. I was MORTIFIED…and completely unprepared for such disasters. I had 5 flimsy paper napkins, and wipes (not ideal for liquid spills). Coffee…everywhere…what…to…do…durrr…I think I went into shock.

I came to when another young mom approached me. “You look like you need some help!” She handed me a burp cloth and a fat stack of napkins. I sighed in relief. “Thank you so much!” Thank goodness for more experienced moms, I thought. It’s such a relief to know that I’ll get it together as he gets older.

Then I saw her tiny baby. It was younger than mine! She was a newbie too… just way more organized than I. Bummer. Maybe I’m just doomed to hot-messedness.

Last weekend, I was at the grocery store with my family. We had our usual Saturday breakfast, and I brought my coffee with me as we shopped. My son grabbed my coffee cup, but my slightly-more-experienced Mama Eagle Eye rescued the cup before disaster struck.

Or so I thought.

We headed toward the checkout lanes. I started to take a sip of my coffee, but nothing came out as I tilted it toward my mouth. By the time I realized that coffee was running down my hand, it was too late. The lid (which my son had expertly loosened just enough) popped off violently, soaking my entire front side in delicious, freshly roasted, organic/fair trade coffee.

Was I better prepared than I was 16 months ago? Not really. But was I mortified? Nope. It was hilarious!

But I did change my clothes when we got home.