Ways to scare your mom to death (or embarrassing stuff that happens w.o you knowing)

Some people do this on purpose by rebelling against their parents and getting badly placed tattoos or a not so hygienic-looking piercing. Others, as myself and many I know, do so unintentionally and quite effectively.
Here’s the case of my friend R.  Takes quite a huge fall, her baby breaks his little ankle (okay, this is nothing small), and R goes through hellish weeks in hopes that nothing of this will affect her boy in the future.  This is a perfectly understandable source of worry for any parent or any competent human being in care of a small child or any other human being —- competent or not. But we must also remember that it’s not mom’s fault; accidents do happen!

As I tried to cheer on my poor friend R, I was reminded of a little anecdote from my own years of infancy.  Of course, all the information I give has been narrated to me by my parents.  Here is a copy of my mail to my bruised up gal pal.  I hope you enjoy:

“Oh my sweet poor children!!!!!  {:O  That fall had to be the scariest thing for you ever, specially with L’s little ankle {:(  You must have felt like the worst person in the world, but I hope this makes you feel better and def not alone:

Family & friends gather for a formal dinner at the home of the two wealthier and well connected people in the family.

Location: Bogotá, Colombia, South America.

Date & Time: August, 1980 on a Saturday evening; right about dinner time.

People attending: Some family (here, may I introduce two very new and very proud parents to a chubby little baby girl —- my parents), some friends, and some colleagues of the host & hostess.

What went on: Dinner was announced to the guests in the living-room, which felt like a formal drawing room bc of how lovely and formal it had been decorated with antiques.  As the host and hostess guided their guests to the dining-room, my lovely diva of a mother, with her Farrah Fawcett hairstyle and stiletto style heels, decided that it was nappy-changing time for her not-so-svelte and not-so-glamorous fat blob of a baby girl.

My sweet mother has always been a figure to follow in all things fashionable, prim and proper.  She managed a great feat that night having been able to keep me, her chubby 6 month old girl, well behaved during a few hours of political conversation among whiskey-drinking men and Marlboro-smoking, red nail-polish-loving women; I had been very quiet and observant throughout.

As the guests were being escorted to their seats in the dining-room my mother thought that it would be most appropriate to take me upstairs for a quick change.

Makes sense, really, it does not make a scene, it’s practical, and my mother can enjoy the conversation —- as well as her meal—— in the fun and exciting world of these dressed up adults.

Happy 6-month old in one arm, dirty nappy held by a very well extended other hand.  Makeup retouched, hair perfectly flipped, heels as stylish as these could ever be.  My mother began her descent to the social level of the home in hopes to take the disgraced nappy to the kitchen trash, as not to disturb the bathroom waste-basket peace of this very adult home.

Let us rewind a bit now.  Let’s keep in mind that fashion, politics and pretty much everything was very different back in the late 70’s and early 80’s. Decoration was definitely one of those things that added to this atmosphere of strangeness, polyester, wide ties for men, and loads of red nail polish and lipstick for the ladies.  The home of our relatives had a new and “modern” addition to the home:

 

I am only sure that this was added to the stairs of our hosts’ home to maintain the carpeting free of Spaniel stains.  They had 2 very loud and very nervous Cocker Spaniels that loved peeing everywhere they went (not a very glamourous home now, is it?!?).  Why the stairs and not the whole house?  Of this, we have yet to find out the reason.  One thing is very important though, the carpet cover has spikes so as not to let the cover shift when being walked on.  Another important element to these marvelous things is that on the opposite side of the cover, there are small indentations (so as to create a concave bubble effect on the ground you walk on).

So let us get back to the action, shall we?  My mother, happy fresh baby, poopy diaper, concave texture on staircase carpet covers, stilettos & dinner party.  It all sounds like great ingredients for a wonderful dinner party, doesn’t it?!!?

As my mom walked down the stairs in her high heels, not being able to hold herself for balance, while carrying her precious baby in one arm and a nasty diaper in the other hand, my mother lost her balance and went face forward.  What happened next?  What would you have done?  What would I have done? Let us explore some options:

1. Let go of everything and grab on to the closest thing to you as to avoid a very embarrassing fall.
2. Let go of the dirty diaper and use the newly freed hand to catch yourself and the happy baby.  Here, you risk the mess contained by the newly invented disposable diapers, to splatter everywhere in our relatives lovely white-carpeted home. Remember, the cover’s only in the stairs!
3. Let gravity do it’s thing and see what happens to whom and how. After all, it is a carpeted home and there are plenty of people that can help you get back up if you need them.

My mother, being the sweet damsel she is, the beacon of manners and elegance, chose option number 1.

This is when it becomes interesting and ridiculous (with a hint of funny):

1.  My mother avoids her fall —— success number 1 & hair is still perfect —— so her embarrassment is prevented.


2.  6 month old me falls to the bottom of the stairs, rolling into the living-room coffee table, bumping the little 6 month-old skull (still quite soft at this age) and I start crying.  So baby is able to go from 0 —- utter joy —— to 60 —— utter pain and humiliation expressed in tears and screams —— in less than 2 seconds. Let a Ferrari beat that one!


3.  Dirty nappy does not fall to the bottom of the stairs (huge sigh of relief).  Instead, it gracefully flies over the opposite direction I have gone, successfully avoiding contact with the carpet, but disgracefully revealing its contents wide open as it lands on the center of the dining room table; this is the same table where about 10 other people had commenced their delicious and very long awaited dinning experience.  Dinner came to a complete stop.

Okay, so no bones were broken.  I had but a scratch on my head and quite the bump for a bit after that.  But I am sure that whatever things are a bit off in me, are all due to my mother’s choice of giving me up in those stairs for the sake of her image…. {;)  I caught Meningitis 2 years later and she thought that it was that fall that had caused it all; that it was her fault. Some mean way moms treat themselves after these accidents happen eh?

So the point of my story is that L will be okay R.  You will be physically okay, but you might tend to blame yourself for anything that might go on in his life from now until the day you are no longer around to nag him as a grown man.  I am very glad that the two of you are okay and although I am very sorry that it happened and that his little ankle broke, I am glad that it was not any worse.  Bigger bones can fx and you could have also broken a bone or two as well!”

So that was me, a few years ago cheering my “new-mom” pal from afar.  Let us all take a moment to think about how many crazy things we have done during this wild ride we call life, and thank whomever/whatever you believe in that our mothers were not there to see the stuff we have put ourselves through. Be it in the company of friends on a dare, with friends or strangers at a wild house party, or just as simple-minded adults trying to bring some excitement to the blog of life. The poor women would have blamed any bad things happening to us on themselves for the rest of eternity! Not fair on them, I say.  So go hug your mom now; her poor heart deserves it and she will always remember it.