Please pass me the Immodium AD because I have a terrible case of verbal diarrhea. You know the stuff, right? Verbal diarrhea, word vomit, an over-share, TMI? I know technically this is not a new discovery. Anyone who has read this blog or, heck, spoken to me in person for longer than 3 minutes knows that I tend to be a little too comfortable sharing stuff. How many normal people share their lip, chin and hoo-ha grooming routines, right?
However, I think I might have gone an intsy-tinsy bit too far this afternoon. You see, in Target while trying to find a new CD player for DS1, I might have accidentally, without meaning to, before I could control my own wagging tongue… asked a complete stranger’s husband to meet me at the movies. Yes, you read correctly. I did that. In Target. In front of my children. And their children. And it was pretty f’ing awful. But I think it will make a pretty hilarious post. And we all know there isn’t much I won’t share for a good laugh.
So around 4:45 I loaded up the boys to head to Target. DS1 loves to listen to CDs in his room and has specifically fallen in love with Mission Six. Mission Six is this awesome, young Christian boy band that has been playing at camp all week. So not only does DS1 rock out during playtime each afternoon, but he also falls asleep to this CD as well as his praise music nightly. Unfortunately for him, his CD player had been a little over-loved and broke earlier this week. So we compromised and decided we could split the price of a new one- he’d pay half, I’d pay half. Fair enough, right? So off to Target we went.
Now I hate to age myself more than my gigantic pores already do, but when the heck did they stop selling CD players or boom boxes? I found table top stereos, CD/alarm clocks and portable CD players; but there was not a mini boom box/CD player to be found in the place. After a call to DH asking him to stop by BestBuy on his way home (and completely making his day by “asking” him to buy something electronic) I strolled over to the toy section and told the boys they could peruse for 15 minutes.
While DS1 is all about music these days, DS2 has developed what might be an unhealthy addiction to all things Toy Story 3. DH took the boys to see it a few weeks ago and DS2 can not stop talking about it. “Mom, do you remember when Mr. Potato Head turned into a tortilla?” “No, honey, I don’t. Remember, Daddy took you guys to the movie. Mommy wasn’t there.” “Oh yeah. Hey Mommy, Do you remember when Buzz and Woody were in the lava?” Wait, didn’t we just go over this? Mommy. wasn’t. at. the freakn’. movie! Anyway, back to my mortifying story…
So DS2 was checking out each and every Toy Story 3 toy available on the endless shelves at Target asking me if I remembered the moment that each of them appeared in the movie. I just smiled and nodded a lot and promised to put all those toys on his birthday list. A few minutes of list making later, a kind looking mom of 2 turns the corner with her boys and joins us in front of the display. We made eye contact, smiled, shared that “Mom Moment” when you both roll your eyes as your children ask for every toy in front of them; when she turns to me and asks if we’ve seen the movie. I tell her that the boys have seen it with their dad. Then my mind does its crazy wild spinning thing and I realize that sounds like I’m divorced and that their dad too them to the movies on one of “his weekends.” I have no idea why I feel the need to clarify since in all honesty she probably doesn’t give less of a rip about my marital status or child custody situation; but, clarify, I do. I quickly tell her that I was gone for the day when it came out but their dad took them before I got home. I breathe a sigh of relief. Thank God I’ve clarified the situation. What the hell is wrong with me? Oh yeah, I’m psycho and spend way too much time in my own head, I forgot.
After my first trip to the toilet with verbal diarrhea, I recover and politely ask her if she and her children have seen it. She tells me they have. She feels no need to tell me who went, who stayed home or what type of living situation she and her children live in. Probably because she’s normal and sane. Apparently I feel I need to share more useless information about my life and go on to tell her that I’m hoping to take the kids this weekend since I had to miss The Big Premier on opening weekend- you know, because I was out, not at home, and my husband to whom I’m still married and living with took the boys anyway. Trip #2 to the toilet now complete. She politely smiles and informs me that her husband had mentions something about her husband maybe taking the kids to see it again because they keep asking.
And then it happens… I open my big freakn’ trap and let flow the following statement. You ready? Here it goes…
“Well, tell him I’ll be at the movies and maybe we can meet up…”
That’s right, people. I’m pretty sure I asked that woman to set me up for a matinee screening of a children’s movie with. her. husband. And as soon as the words ooze from my mouth I want to find them, grab them, and shove them back in. I instantly realize how completely inappropriate my comment was and that it totally didn’t sound that way in my head in the 2.5 seconds it took for the words to come together before they flew out. And as I realize just how ridiculous I sound several things happen at once. First, I gasped. I actually took an audible breath of air in my gigantic gawking mouth. Second, my eyes bug out of my head. Seriously, I probably looked a little like an old school Tom and Jerry cartoon when Tom’s eyes actually shoot off his face on springs before they sling-shot back into their sockets. Third, the poor woman’s expression contorts into some sort of “Did-she-just-say-what-I-think-she-said-what-the-f-did-you-just say-back-off-my-man” type of look. And last, silence. Total and complete silence. I think I might have heard crickets chirp.
Now you would think I would tuck tail and run at this point, right? But no, I decide in my infinite wisdom that I need to remedy this situation and explain what I really meant. Oh my gosh, what the heck is wrong with me, right? Seriously, I just need to shut the heck up. But no, that apparently is not in my DNA. So I begin to stutter as I try to clarify. After a ridiculously forced laugh that sounds like a grunt/cough I begin to explain myself. “You know what I mean,” I say in a voice that is at least 3 octaves higher than my normal voice, “All us parents who had to miss it the first time should meet up for the second viewing, right?” And what does this woman give me… nothing. Nu-thing. Not a word. Not a crack in the facial expression. Not even an eye roll. Of course I did just kind of asked her to ask her husband to go out with me, so I can kind of understand whey she’s looking at me like I just finished snorting rubber cement. But I was trying here.
And this is the moment when I realize that there is no way I am going to redeem myself. My verbal diarrhea is figuratively all over the toy aisle in Target and I need to flee- immediately. So I carefully scrape up the remaining pieces of my pride, gather up the boys who, thankfully, come willingly and without argument (See? Even God knows I need to get the heck out of Dodge.), wish this kind lady a good day and run like hell. Yes I actually ran toward the exit, dragging my children behind me while praying no one else heard what just happened. Seriously, how do I get myself into these situations. Oh, that’s right, I have an obviously punctured verbal filter and a big mouth- a lethal combination.
So if a friend of yours approaches you and tells you about this psychotic woman in Target who might have propositioned her husband, have a little grace and remember THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!
Someone get me a muzzle…
That’s just my normal.