Monday, August 4, 2008

Mommy Badge of Honor

A few days ago, I posted about dumb things I did in public this weekend. I reached number six on my top ten list in one day, which made me sure I would stockpile incidents seven through ten in no time at all. I was kind of right.

I was standing in line for a workshop or a free book or food (okay, probably food), keeping my mouth shut and not scratching anything. My clothes were free of salad dressing, butter, and highlighter marks. I secured the area to ensure there was no water to knock over. I wasn't dumb enough to feel confident, but my nerves were settled. It would take a greater genius than me to create a minor disaster with nothing in arm's reach. Then again, I underestimated my own genius.

I heard a snicker behind me.

Don't think I'm paranoid when I tell you that snickering in my proximity is pretty much always about me. I could dedicate an entire blog to a detailed rundown of all the ways in which I have totally earned my snickers. So I looked around and found the girl behind me smothering a smile. Smarting from my humiliating Day Glo skin disorder of the day before, I didn't even try diplomacy. I turned fully and smiled. "Yes?" I asked politely. Meaning, "Bring it on."

"Nice band-aid," she said.

I didn't even have to look to find the new item on my List of Shame. I knew exactly what she was talking about. Let me set the scene: I was wearing my new Ann Taylor Loft skirt, knee-length and pencil cut with a cool abstract brown and yellow floral print. (Trust me, it sounds like baby puke but it was cute). I topped it with a cream shirt and a three quarter sleeve brown cardigan. I felt like I looked sharp. I also had my favorite brown wedge platform sandals on. Not bad for a mom who didn't sleep most of the night due to the fact that NO ONE IN SAN FRANCISCO EVER SLEEPS and and they had all hung out UNDER MY WINDOW the night before. I considered being at my conference on time in fairly unwrinkled clothes a victory.

But I had forgotten that my crop pants the day before hid the band-aid I stuck over an unsightly mosquito bite on my calf. The bright blue and yellow Spongebob band-aid. No, not bright. Make that screaming neon. Now totally exposed by my oh-so-chic skirt.

I will bet money that I was the only person in the San Francisco Marriott with a Spongebob bandaid on her calf. I bet everyone else has normal colored band-aids at their house. I bet no one forgets to buy the lovely flesh toned strips every time they go to the store.

I smiled weakly and almost turned around, ready to make it Number Seven on my downward spiral to a dubious top ten. But then I stopped. And I firmed up my smile. And I said, "I stole it from my kid."

And I was proud. Because that stupid Spongebob band-aid said clearly that I am a MOM. And so I wore it all day as a Mommy Badge of Honor.

I don't think I even want the fake skin ones now. Bring me your Scoobys, your Harry Potters and your Hot Wheels. They will find refuge on my calves!


Annette Lyon said...

We went quite awhile in our house with nothing but Scooby Doo, Dora, Care Bear, geometrical neon,(yes) Sponge Bob bandaids. For his own sanity, my husband bought a case of regular skin-tone ones.

But I was thinking the same thing--wearing a character bandaid is a sign that you're a mom. And a fun one at that. It really is a badge of honor. :)

Kimberly said...

You? Are my hero.

And that cake site had me laughing -so- behind or I'd've emailed! Gah!

Alison Wonderland said...

No band-aids unless there's blood. Ans Sean and I are both in the medical field, I mean real blood. And then nothing cute, it's all flesh tones around here. I'm the meanest mom EVER!!!!

Kenny, The Husband said...

For the past week, I'd been constantly seeing something out of the corner of my eye and thinking "did my wife just get a crazy neon-blue tatoo on the back of her calf?!?!...oh wait...that's's a band aid."

charrette said...

LOVE the badge of honor and the quick comeback. You go, Mom!

Don said...

Hooray for you. Surviving parenthood should be a source of honor.

Fortunately my youngest daughter likes Spider-Man, so occasionally I can heal with some masculinity.

I've worn my share of Barbie bandages over the years, too.