Starting another series of posts, y’all. This one I’m calling “Messy Mama”. It’s where I tell you how I’m a mess and I feed my child Star Wars Macaroni and Cheese for dinner sometimes. But that’s totally okay, because we’re all a mess and I want to prove it to you. I could make this a daily series, but I’ll just start with this post today.
I have this very clear memory of my mother and grandmother putting me in etiquette classes. [I’ll wait while you finish laughing because you’ve met me before.] I remember being in a dress, I remember a huge navy blue bow in my hair, and I remember learning how to properly cut a huge blueberry muffin while someone watched over my shoulder to make sure I was holding my fork and knife correctly. It probably looked something like this:
I also remember modeling classes. Oh how my grandmother was certain I would grow up to be a model. I was 5’3 in the 5th grade, so I assume she and my mother just thought I’d be over 6 feet tall and super skinny and elegant (you know, from the etiquette classes). My grandmother used to cut articles about models out of the newspaper and mail them to me. Y’all, I had to learn how to walk with a book on my head (that’s a real thing, I swear). [this is where I pause for laughter again because I’ve tripped over air several times today.] I also remember attending one of these classes in a neon orange and pink jumpsuit soooo, not sure what they thought that would accomplish. Ah, the ’90s. I did, however, take a glamour shot at the mall. Same thing?
Needless to say, I’m not elegant OR a model.
Also – My child dipped his apple slices in barbecue sauce at dinner tonight.
THINGS ARE GOING GREAT.
Comment and tell me about your messy mommin’[or dirty dadding? should that be a thing? It sounds wrong. Let’s don’t] Or how your parents had huge hopes for you to be a famous model and you just made a mess of it. Because we’ve all be there, and that’s okay. Let’s laugh about it together.