A few years ago I worked a PR event with a celebrity guest of honor, Charles Spencer, 9th Earl Spencer. I don’t really follow that royal stuff but it was very exciting to meet an actual Prince.   Or maybe he was a Lord.  I don’t know – he had a fancy name and was Princess Diana’s brother (I really rocked this PR job…nothing like knowing the details! Eeek!)   In the green room we had tea – I am guessing because he was English and they seem to like their tea time.  (Shit – I am really making a lot of assumptions here!) So I am going to say that this was not one of my better career moments.  And for more than just these brainless things……

While the Prince/Lord was relaxing before his appearance and enjoying his hot, lemony brew, I worked hard to make sure the pastry plates, tea pots, tea bag box and sugar bowls were always full for the guests going in and out prior to the actual event start.  I also kept the room clean – throwing away unsightly used teabags or half eaten treats.

As Charles was talking to someone, I started to clean up a bit and collected teacups that were sitting around the room, seemingly finished. Just as I walked towards the back of the room, I heard him say “someone has gone and thrown away my tea”.  With his lovely English accent, it was hard for me to tell if he was pissed (doesn't everything sound better when someone says it with a nice accent?)

I kept my back towards him while I hovered over a garbage can. If he saw my face he would know I had tossed his drink since I was beat red and my mouth was open so wide, I could have caught flies.  Or maybe I just filled up with air because I can’t even believe what I did next – I actually spun around holding a blue and white porcelain cup with a drop of liquid in it and a gnarly, used teabag plopped on the saucer and said to this Royal guy “I think this was it….?" and sort of handed it to him.

He looked at me like I was crazy for offering him a cold cup of tea that could have belonged to anyone.  Not to mention that I practically just pulled it out of the garbage can.

I felt like I was having an outer body experience – looking down on myself saying “Stop standing there with this gross offering. Just turn and walk away.”

Before he could respond to me, a colleague said she’d get him a fresh cup. She too looked at me like I was an idiot.  Yes, well cheerio, I was definitely going to hide in a pile rubbish….and do a little thinking about my next career move. 

When I was pretty well into my pregnancy Adam came with me to one of the last ultrasound appointments.  It just so happened that on this day,  there was a covering doctor. She walked in and Adam almost passed out. I think she may have only been wearing her short white lab coat with high-heeled boots that laced up to her knees.  Her hair was cascading down her back and her voice was soft.  When she dimmed the lights so we could see the monitor better, Adam asked her if she could put on soft music. What the fuck? I gave him a smack on the back of his head and knocked him back into reality. Besides, what did he think she was turning out the lights to do? Make out with me…or him?  Eye roll!! I can assure you that there is nothing like feeling like a beached whale and thinking that your husband has little interest in you or his unborn child, because he is ogling over some hot – super thin - doc. Seriously though, who hired her how does she not feel bad looking that way around large pregnant women? What a bitch. Sigh. 

I don’t like tools. I don’t like using them or going in the garage and trying to find them.  

Yay! It’s Back-to-School time! And the first and probably last day that my kids will actually make the bus. From here on out, I will likely be the parent screeching through the parking lot at 60 miles an hour in order to get there before the bell rings. The scene will be awesome as I  scream at the kids to unbuckle their seatbelts and get ready to get out of the car the second it stops.  As they run to the doors, I will yell after them reminding  them to go directly to the office without getting a late pass and to just tell the teachers that they were using the bathroom when the bell rang.  I will get pissed when I see them walking towards the office.  Argh! Why did I teach them to do the right thing? With the start of a new school year, I wonder if I will have to go back to bribing them to make the bus on time. Last year, it was only February when we got a letter from the principal about all of the accrued lates.  We really had to start making real efforts to get the girls to school on time until the end of the year.  And in keeping consistent with making some of the worst parenting decisions ever, I promised each of them $100 in cold, hard cash if they didn’t get one more late pass until June. And it worked! On the last day of school, I found myself at the bank asking the teller for 200 singles.  Feeling like a stripper with a bunch of loose bills in my purse – and secretly liking it – I picked up the girls from school  that day and handed them their reward.  Yea, seeing it’s success I am so not above bribery.  Since my girls weren't either, I should have anticipated that being at the bus stop today – the first day – it would present the perfect opportunity for my oldest to ask “So Mom, how much do we get this year for not getting any late passes?”  Like finding out that the Tooth Fairy pays some kids more than others, let’s hope my girls don’t talk to your kids or we just might ourselves breaking up a juvenile ring of corruption. 

Always looking for a new (and quick) weight loss technique, especially in the summer, I tried cooking and eating dinner naked one hot night.  I figured that if I could see all my blub I'd eat less. It didn't work. I just got burned by oil splatter in unfortunate places and actually dropped broccoli on my crotch. That's a new one! And so now I am still fat but with burns and food particles on my body. Super hot, huh? The only thing burning from here will be all bathing suits….

I have a rep among friends and family for being a failure in the kitchen. And without hesitation, I will pretty much agree to this. I can admit that I once Googled how long to cook an egg so that it was hard boiled and to confirm what color sauteed garlic should be before it is considered burnt. Looking up other things like "how many cups equal a quart" and other metric conversions, goes without saying (like. what the hell is a "pinch" really and how can anyone rely on "add to taste"!?). And after learning the hard way that mayo is not a substitute for eggs when making cake, I now take to the internet before trying to figure out substitutions on the fly. Even with all my cooking lows, there were always some things that I could handle with confidence and ease and freezing water was one of them.  But when the fridge at the beach house was so fancy that I couldn't figure out the ice maker from the ice box thing to the ice trays, I wound up having to ask a room full of the family that had already know my limits, the lowest culinary question -   "so, um, how do I make ice?"