Happy National Poetry Month!
I keep waiting for hints — a sign — that they are ready to hear and listen about the birds and the bees without too much blushing (on my part) and giggling (on their part).
So, I was unprepared, when I innocently pulled into a local coffee drive-thru shack with the boys in the backseat. I was desperate for caffeine.
It was early. Too early to be dealing with anything out of the ordinary.
I had yet to wake up, so it took me a few eye-gawking moments to take in our lovely barista. She was beautiful, her rich chocolate skin glowing and smooth, but it was her push-up camisole and lacy boy shorts, perfectly enhancing her round “cheeks” that had my boys spinning in the back seat.
“Mom, why is that girl dressed like that?”
“She’s wearing her swimsuit.” Snicker. Snicker. “It cold. Is she cold?”
“Is that a swimsuit, mom?”
“You’re not suppose to wear a swimsuit in the winter.” Giggle. Giggle. Whisper, “I see her butttttt.”
On and on it went, for the painful five minutes it took to get my caffeine. Which, by the way, I didn’t need anymore. I was fully awake. But what is a mom to do? I did what any brilliant mother would do. I snatched up the lie and ran with it. “Yes honey, she is wearing her swimsuit. How silly is that?”
As we pulled away, I heard more snickers coming from my four-year-old and under his breath mutter, “I saw her butt.” A fact he reminds me of every time I pull into a coffee drive-thru.
So I ask, any awkward moments for you?
if we could all drop our inhibitions on command,
what type of creativity would spring forth in this world.
The list would start simple, a mom, a wife, a graphic designer, a writer, a musician, a homeowner, a sister, a neighbor, a friend . . . and every time I would add another item to the list, there seemed to be an outline of bullet points under each of the headers, making the list endless: a short-order cook, a dog-walker, a taxi driver, an administrative assistant, an accountant, a confident, a personal shopper, a nurse.
In doing this, it made me realize that while my roles are endless, time is not.
And so, I breath a sigh of relief for the failed schedule I set out for myself and give myself the grace to re-plan, re-plot, and start again.
So I ask, how many hats do you where?
© 2013 Courtney Cook Hopp. All rights reserved.
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