There is nothing special about this outfit. In fact, I am not quite sure I even like it. It was a rainy day and like any rainy day, I was most excited about one thing. Busting out my rain boots.
I do, however, love my embroidered rain cloud necklace I purchased from Sew Happy Girls earlier in the year.
Something happened in this outfit that shall always make it a tad bit special. It was the day I turned into a
shapeshifter, crazy dog lady Winner Of Most Embarrassing Mother Of The Year.
Here is the story about how I can shame my children no matter where we go. It is my very special talent:
I was late. Nothing shocking there. Well, actually, that is not true. As
ditzy unorganized as I am, I am pretty much always on time or early. OCD and all of that. Can’t be late!
So, I dropped my daughter off at Ms. Lisa’s house (our wonderful, amazing art teacher). I did not even run into socialize, as I usually do. I just drove away.
But I had to turn my car around to get to the main street. As I did so, I noticed her little dog had gotten out. He usually just runs to her planter and back inside, but on this day he had made it all the way to the curb. Having no doubt it was because my daughter had kept the door open, I parked my car in the middle of the street to help.
I jumped out like the maniac that I am. And I tried to chase the dog into the house.
Only, it wouldn’t work.
He liked being outside.
There was a whole new world to explore.
Lisa was calling him.
He ignored her.
He made like he was going to run further up the street.
I panicked. I did not want him to get ran over. Or lost. Or hurt.
Something primal took over.
Without thinking, I began to bark at the little dog.
I ran at him barking. He finally acknowledged me. He began barking back.
I did not back down. I, after all, was the much larger, much older dog. Just call me “Alpha” from now on. I barked and growled as I marched that little dog back into Lisa’s house.
He ran away from the crazy dog woman through the open door into safety.
“Safety” being away from the insane woman in his front yard.
Lisa looked surprised and said, “Well, I guess that’s one way to get the dog in the house.”
It was not until she said that that I realized maybe what I had done wasn’t exactly normal.
I turned from a dog into a laughing hyena in my car.
Later my daughter relayed the embarrassing moment to my son.
His response to his sister, “Oh my gosh! Poor you!”
I was aghast. What did they mean?
I looked at my daughter indignantly. “But you have to admit I sounded just like a dog.”
“Um. No, you didn’t. You sounded crazy.”
There was only one response to that.