Graceful, Like a Dried Leprechaun

This just in: I am not graceful. (And since we're truth-telling, I'm also not really a chicken.)

I have had this dilemma recently with a new acquaintance. Although I think I have been pretty friendly and welcoming, even watching her kids and helping her out when need be, it seems she just doesn't like me. So, after a random encounter with her I asked Kurt about this.

"I just don't understand what it is about me she doesn't like," I said, feeling a bit too middle-school-aged for my own good. "Did I do or say something to upset her or does she just not like who I am? What is it?"

And it was then that Kurt informed me, in the most loving and caring of ways, that well, "you are just not, um, graceful" for lack of a better word. (Loving and caring like the warm fuzzy you feel when snuggled up to an alligator....ahhh.) When he saw the hurt in my eyes....ok, the theatrical pained look I gave him, knowing full well that you can't be graceful-like-a-chicken AND "graceful" (insert the flourishing wave of a well adorned and pedicured hand)....he explained that I could be abrasive and blunt, saying things that although may be true, others would simply keep to themselves. (Ok, maybe I didn't have to tell her it was rude for her to send her kid to school when he had been vomiting all day the day before...but seriously, who does that? And yes, I know it is also rude to tell someone that their actions are rude but at least my honesty, as I prefer to call it, doesn't end up spreading the plague....)

And then Kurt went on to tell me that I just don't fit the profile of aristocrat with whom some people like to surround themselves....blah, blah, blah, something about not caring about fashion, or trends, and lack of proper etiquette....blah, blah....

What? Is it because if I saw Larry the Cable Guy walking down the street I might think he was a relative?

Or because my 91 year old grandmother is more tech-savvy than I am, chillin' with her iPhone while I am happy with my free-with-plan-because-it-doesn't-know-apps-exist-phone, and I don't have an iPod and think that an iPad sounds far too much like something we learned about in health class back when they separated the boys and girls for the day?

Or is it because my idea of "dressing up" is wearing my "good" pair of jeans and the less wrinkled T-shirt? (Hey, it means I am not in my running clothes and have showered! That's pretty big around here.) In full disclosure, in middle school my dad took me to a trendy little store in the mall to buy a new set of clothes, you know, one of those daddy-daughter outings that really meant a lot to me, but I don't think I have ever felt as uncomfortable wearing clothes in all my life. Seriously, why bother with making sure 'this top' gets worn with 'those particular bottoms' when I can wear any top with my jeans and never fear that I don't match! And get this, you stick a "nice" top with my "good jeans" and hey, we're ready to party! Right? What's that you say? I'd have to have my hair cut more than once every 18 months? And styled, too? Isn't that what my black scrunchy is for? (I admit, on some things, I am truly hopeless.)

So, anyway, I just wanted to clarify, in case you missed the memo (or at least the last two years of blogging), for the most part, I am not graceful in any other way than "like a chicken."

Now that we have that cleared up, I'll end with a few funny conversations I had recently.

So, the other day had been a hard one with our first born. He was just ornery and irritating and a bit um, abrasive (hmmm), and by the end of the day, I was very happy he had a Scout meeting to go to with his dad. When they got back, the house was quiet, (the girls and Liam were in bed), I was reading and Kurt sent Aidan upstairs to bathe.

"Hey hun, can you put Aidan down tonight?" Kurt asked sweetly.

"Oh! Which vet will do that?" I responded. (What was that about saying things other people wouldn't?)

Hey, some days are better than others....


Then there was a conversation, if you can call it that, that I had with Liam. You see, he doesn't actually talk much, except for the sign language he has really been picking up these last few months. But he sure gets his thoughts across well. So, I had just bathed him and had to take him down to the basement where the laundry was sitting, waiting to be folded. I picked out some pajamas and took Liam to a better place to dress him when he started freaking out. He squirmed and wiggled trying to get away from me.

"Liam, hold still so I can put your clothes on," I said. He immediately put his arm under his chin, wiggling his fingers which signs the word "dirty."

Oh come on, et tu Brute? Not even my two year old can cut me some slack!

"No Liam, those clothes are clean. They just haven't been folded yet..."

Since when do two-year olds notice these things, or care for that matter?!


My favorite conversation though was in the grocery store this last week. We were walking through the produce section when Madeline blurted out:

"Hey Mom, look! They have those little dried things you like to eat so much!"

"What are you talking about, Madeline?" I asked from a few fruits down.

"You know, those little dried Leprechauns you really like to eat," she shouted, pointing to a display of dried apricots.

Hee hee....well, you know in the south, when we could catch those lucky little buggers, we preferred 'em fried (tasted like chicken that way) but up here in the north, you can only find them bagged and ready-to-eat and in the produce section no less. I wonder if I need to put on my "good" jeans for those...

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for leaving your comments and feedback! I am humbled by your presence in this place.