QUESTION:

Do embarrassing moments exist?

Embarrassment: An emotional state of extreme discomfort. Mortification.

The other day I was in the... yep, the supermarket with Dylan. We'd done our touring the aisles skit. We were at the self-serve check out; I passing items to him and he scanning and bagging. I was continuing the conversation we'd started at the Health Foods aisle:

"Well, Renn got tested and his vitD levels were so low they were almost non-existent. Doc said it wasn't helping his foot heal, so he had to get some sun into him asap. Maybe that's why you and I are having problems with our busted wrists?"

"Mum. Reason I'm having problems is I removed my cast too early. You're just... old."

He said that in a loud voice. So loud in fact, the confined area designated for self-service- suddenly there were NO sounds of "beep...pause... beep" and no items shoved into plastic bags. In fact, there was that anticipatory silence: When you hear something and then you wait- usually for an argument or bout of chastising to erupt. (Who doesn't like a good public spat right?) I even saw two phones being surreptitiously raised. One lady in particular- she had the "OHHHHH!" face on. (Eyes wide, mouth gaping.)

I imagined her thoughts. (Funny how time pauses during these instances.) A son calling his mother old? The impudence! The disrespect! The embarrassment I must feel! How mortified I must be!

What did I do?

I threw a frozen packet of peas and corn (with the not-so-healed hand) at him . Followed by his grandfather's nappies. He missed the first and the peas and corn left a wet impression on his face (lol). He caught the nappies and with hands full, there then followed that moment of "What to do?" Drop the nappies and aim to catch the bag of organic potatoes or use the nappies as a shield? He chose the latter and the deflected bag fell and... landed on his foot. He "ouched".

"Unfair!" He said, hopping on one foot.

"Ye. Kinda like age... ya know?" (Speaking his lingo.)

I looked across at the lady. I was grinning. This was fun!

She... she now looked disappointed? And maybe a little annoyed. Her expression bounced off other faces around us. Phones were discretely put away.

That should have been an instance of embarrassment. We were in public- my son therefore publicly disrespected me and I should as a result have owned his words and acted accordingly. I didn't. I turned it into a comedy skit instead.

What am I trying to say here?

That we perhaps create our own embarrassment. We choose to accept it. We own it. And perhaps... it is expected that we do?

Or we don't.

The fact no one laughed with us? What can I say. Expectations are fickle things.

How do you deal with such moments?

**************

UPDATE:

Ignore all the above. We were at a thrift shop earlier today and on the lower lever, looking at nick-knacks. I thought we were alone, as it was near closing time. I was at the jeans rack, browsing through, when I spotted a pair of jeans- Dylan has very specific tastes with clothes, jeans in particular. He likes the skinny type, not the loose-fit which sag in the butt and which he calls...

I yelled out: "Hey Dyls, there's a pair here and they're not fat-ass!"

Silence.

Even louder: "They're really not fat-ass, come see!"

That's when I turned in his direction and saw the man. My age, fashionably bald, a row of diamond studs in one ear, dressed similarly to Dylan- kinda cool you know? Nice cool! The "You don't often see such nice cool!" 

Dylan was trying to hide his laughter and not succeeding. Neither was the man. He was... oh he was laughing so hard! (I have no idea what expression I was displaying but I know my cheeks were... rosy?)

"Blame him!" I said getting near to Dylan and pointing. "I caught it off him!" That's what I said, trying to excuse my language. Didn't work.

"Your son looks too hip to use words like that." (Clearly enjoying my discomfort.)

Dylan was nodding vigorously. Like he was an angel. Like no bad words ever left his mouth. Like he didn't make that bloody phrase up in the first place?

But I admit it. I was both embarrassed and mortified.