Making a messy fool of myself

You think I could get through just one week without looking like a fool. Nope, doesn't seem to be happening. I realized that I just have to expect that sometime in the span of seven-day week I will, at one point or another, either dump coffee on myself, spill food on my shirt, dip my sleeve in some random sauce, or find some other item to either sit on or lean upon to embarrass me.

In the past, I could blame it on the kids. Like, for instance, when they were babies, I could go a whole day with spit up dried down the back of my shirt before anyone bothered to tell me, which was humiliating, don't get me wrong, but it wasn't my fault. Or when their little hands were dirty and they'd cling to my pant leg, smearing my pants with who knows what ... still embarrassing, but again, not my fault. Or if I had cheerios stuck to my rear end from sitting on them in the church pew, people actually felt sorry for me and made sure to inform me of it cause they knew it was by no means any fault of mine. I had many days of slobber and snot smudged on my shirt from holding a crying baby or hugging an injured toddler, but it was all OK because I didn't cause it.

However, it seems I AM the cause of the mess these days and I feel it's getting worse by the week. For instance, last month I actually sat on my daughter's plate full of food, while at the high school football game. Who does that? Really? We stood up for the anthem, so I placed her freshly made, yet to be eaten, plate of food, which included a ketchup covered jumbo hotdog, joined with a side of powdered sugar coated chex mix, on my chair until the anthem was completed. Somehow, in that 60 second long playing of the song, I managed to totally forget there was a brand new plate of food on my chair. I proceeded to sit down, right smack on the plate, crushing it completely to the point where the hotdog tore in two. The feeling of sitting on a plate of food was quite odd and I wouldn't recommend it. Anyhow, then came the rushing burst of humiliation, mixed with a strong desire to bust out laughing, all at the same time. I couldn't believe I just did that AND it ruined my jeans for the whole rest of the game. I wasn't sure if I should go home and change, or just remain in my chair until the last fan left the stadium, letting the mixture of ketchup and powdered sugar dry up on my backside. What a sight that was!

But the instances continue, twice in the last few weeks, I've been sitting in meetings at work, first thing in the morning mind ya, and took too big of a drink of my coffee, spilling it down my chin and onto my nicely pressed dress shirt. Thank goodness one day my shirt was blue so it didn't show so bad but of course the other day, my shirt had to be white. Why could I think I could get through a day all nicely dressed, without dumping something on me.

Yesterday I pulled a double whammy. Not only did I walk around with a piece of brown packing tape stuck to my fanny, but then I accidentally wrote on my khaki pants with a black marker. Thankfully a sweet woman informed me of the tape so I didn't spend the WHOLE day with it on my pants but the marker...well, I had to resort to crossing my legs a lot so the other leg would cover it up.

I'm telling ya, it's almost a daily occurrence, anymore. This last weekend I ruined my favorite pink t-shirt by splattering grease from cooking dinner all over it. I don't know what's happening to me. I'm just a mess and I can't blame it on kids anymore. Only I am making a fool out of me, instead of them and I'm afraid it's not getting any better.