First things first: the canvas print at the top of the page was a gift from , who we’ve worked with before, and highly recommend for all things wall art / canvas print related : I’ve actually had my eye on some of their giant wall murals ever since , but, when I suggested this to Terry, he gave me the kind of look he normally reserves for Max when he’s just deliberately thrown his cup of milk on the floor, and then reminded me that we barely have time to breathe right now, let alone install murals. But I’m working on it, people. I’m working on it…
In retaliation, however, Terry is now having to live with a large pink canvas print with a slogan on it. In my defence, I actually intended to put this in my dressing room – and probably still will – but there’s even less light in there than there is in the living room at this time of year, so I popped it up here to photograph it, and …. well, it’s still there. For now.
But on with the awkwardness! This is part 3 of my occasional series rounding up some of my most recent awkward moments and/or random acts of stupidity (You can read the first two instalments
When swimming lessons go wrong
At the end of we always sing a little song, during which the instructor, Charlene, ducks down under the water, and sits on the bottom of the pool for a few seconds, before popping back up again: an event which which Max finds absolutely hilarious.
Last week, we had a new class member, along with his mum, so, naturally, that was the week Max decided to pull this little stunt on me:
CHARLENE: *ducks under the water*
ME [Excitedly]: Look, Max, she’s gone under the water! Do you think she’s going to pop back up again?!
MAX [Matter-of-fact]: No, she’s going to die.
MAX [Cheerful]: Yes, she’s dead!
Spoiler alert: Charlene was, thankfully, very much NOT dead. I kind of wished I was, though, because, SERIOUSLY, Max? SERIOUSLY?
When brand collaborations go wrong
Last week, a brand rep I’ve been working with on a blog collaboration asked me to send a signed contract back to him. I cheerfully agreed, then sent him an H&M returns label instead. So, he didn’t have my contract, but, on the plus side, it would’ve been super-easy for him to return something to H&M?
When my skincare routine goes wrong
Last night, I went to bed a bit later than usual, and sat down at my dressing table to begin . I’d obviously removed my glasses by this point, so it was only as I diligently massaged in the last of the FOUR SEPARATE CREAMS I use on my face every night that it suddenly occurred to me that my reflection in the mirror looked a little different to how it usually looks at that time of night. Even stranger, I actually looked better, somehow? Like, my eyes were way more defined than they usually look without mascara, and you’d almost think that… OH.
Yes, folks, I had sat down and carefully applied all of my skincare OVER THE TOP OF MY MAKEUP. And I don’t just mean a little bit of makeup, either: we’re talking full foundation, blush, mascara, eyeliner, the works – all now smudged together and blended in with all of the oils and other lotions I like to apply to my face every night. I mean, YUCK, right?
It’s obviously much too late to blame this one on, but, at the same time, I really don’t want to have to admit to myself that I really AM that stupid, so, baby brain it is, then!
When grocery shopping goes wrong
OK, so it didn’t go wrong exactly: it did, however, turn a little bit awkward when I found myself pushing Max round one of the smaller branches of M&S food, with him shouting, “AAAAAAAHHHHHHH ZABENYA!” (From the Lion King?) at the top of his lungs, the ENTIRE time we were there, including the whole time we were going through the checkout, and all the way back to the car. On the plus side, it did help make our otherwise mundane shopping trip feel a bit more EPIC, I guess?
When nursery pick-up goes wrong
To help ease Max into nursery, Terry and I decided it would be a good idea to explain to him WHY he goes there: so we carefully explained that mummy and daddy have to work in order to get money to buy things for him – and we even illustrated this by promising to buy him a specific toy after his first day back after .
We thought we’d been pretty clever here, by successfully explaining the abstract concept of “work” to him, and also demonstrating a concrete benefit to him personally.
We felt slightly less clever, though, when we went to pick him up that first day – and every day after that – only to be greeted by him running towards us shouting, “WHERE’S THE MONEY, MUMMY? WHERE’S ALL THE MONEY?” Like this, basically:
Since then, he’s done exactly the same thing every single time we pick him up from nursery, so we’re at the point now where the staff there are basically like, “Yeah, where IS the money? We’ve heard so much about it…” And we have only ourselves to blame, too.
Speaking of nursery, meanwhile, you know what else is awkward about those pick-ups? When you walk in to collect your own child, and almost end up leaving with everyone else’s. Seriously, the second I walk in there, they all start coming at me: before I know it, I have one child on my hip and two on each leg, and they’re all calling me “mummy”, and asking when we can go home, while Max looks on in open disgust. And, actually, I WAS thinking the kids just liked me, for some reason, but it’s just this second occurred to me that they’re probably only flocking to me because they’ve heard about THE MONEY. Thanks, Max!
When shoes go wrong
Iput on a pair of shoes purely for the purposes of taking the photo in this post (Because, as you all know, …) then went into Max’s room to get him up from his nap. As soon as I put the light on, he looked at me with undisguised horror and said, “Don’t use those shoes, mummy! Those shoes are ‘meh’!”
(For a few weeks now, he’s been using the phrase, “A bit ‘meh,” to describe anything he doesn’t like. I swear I have NO IDEA where he got that from, honest…)
So, that was… blunt. I wore them anyway, obviously, because, well, this is a child who insisted on wearing a pair of Santa socks to bed last night, so it’s not like he’s the world’s foremost authority on fashion or anything, but, yes, if he’s planning to make a habit of offering up commentary on my outfit choices, this could get very awkward indeed…
Anyone care to make me feel a bit better by sharing some of your own awkward moments from the past few weeks?