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Humble Pie…

Humble pie always is the hardest to swallow.  But before I get to that, let’s start with this.

Wednesday’s incident.   I was still trying to get over that.   Wednesday.  Our busiest day of the week, hands down.  We have umpteen dozen things to do between dawn and dusk, and that’s just the day job.  Then comes Synchro, CanSkate, cheer practice and piano lessons.  And that’s just the extra-curricular.  I won’t bore you with the mundane of supper, homework, piano practice, yada, yada.

But who’s keeping track, right?

So, back to Wednesday.  While all the above was in full swing, I was just returning from a colleague’s father’s wake and then from a visit to my Aunt and Uncle -in-laws, where I had put in a request for a professional reference (because I am not busy enough and have decided to do my Master’s this summer.)   And I was continuing along my way through the heated section of the rink- the place where the cold-blooded parents like myself have to go sit to watch their children trip/stumble/glide around the ice.   And I was heading toward the seat beside Husband.   Who was nodding off in his chair.

And that’s when I noticed her.

Our daughter.  Who had been sent to the rink in snow pants.  With the full expectation that Husband would thoroughly gear her up, after having gone through the over-sized Mark’s Work Wear House bag full of skating tights, dresses, legwarmers and the like.  Which I had risked being late for work to pack.  And the expectation was that he would fully dress her for her Can Skate session.  Because that is what I would do, and goodness knows.  I do it right every time!!  And then some.

But I digress.

In fact, it was what she was NOT wearing that caught my attention.  What she was not wearing as she travelled full-throttle across the ice from station to station was a skating dress.  Instead, she was wearing nothing from the waist down, unless you count a skimpy little pair of nude tights as something.  Because I am afraid that some people might have been left with the impression, particularly those who might be near-sighted, that she was indeed wearing.  Nothing.  Nada.  As nude tights can be very deceiving.  Especially on a five-year old.

And what was Husband doing on his watch?  Mm, hmmm.  Dozing off.

“I thought she looked a little different,” his comment to me, as I choked on my spearmint gum.

So fast forward to today.  Friday.   I am heading to the grocery store after having dropped off the three girls at a birthday party, for which we are an hour late.  And this, because a Certain Someone may or may not have taken down the wrong details concerning when the party started.  I am feeling heat rising again along my neck, travelling up to my ears.   From whence steam is spurting out through my ears.  Because I am so self-rightous.   And I would never forget to remember the time a birthday party starts.

And for certain.  This look is entirely not becoming to me.  At all.

But I manage to pull myself together and pay for the groceries.  And then on a lark, I remember that I have misplaced my debit card.  So, I casually mention to the cashier that although I CAN pay for my groceries, “would you please check and see if I might have, possibly, left my debit card here?” (#whatarethechances)  And while they are looking, I also casually mention to anyone in earshot that I have a problem with holding onto plastic cards.  So when the kind lady comes out of the office, after having searched high and low for my card, and she says, “Sorry, no card,”…I all but forget my angst from moments before and sadly turn to leave the store.

Yup, forgetting to retrieve my VISA card.

And that is the moment that the three onlookers, two teenage cashiers and one supervisor look at the debit machine.  Where my VISA still protrudes, in lonely isolation.  And then they all three turn back to look at me and say this:

“Well. Are you going to take your VISA with you?”

You know that moment?  The one where you feel like an idiot?  Because you’ve just about lost your VISA, along with your debit card?   That moment when you remember that EVERYONE makes mistakes?  Husbands (who forget skating dresses and birthday party details).  Wives (who lose their plastic cards).  Children (who have meltdowns). Friends.   People in general, really.   And that we all need grace.  And more grace to top off the latter.

And in a very personal way, I remember this:  that my pride always precedes my fall.  And finally this: Humble pie always is the hardest to swallow.


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