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A Dork is a Dork, of course of course

on March 12, 2012

I am a dork.  Certified.  I thought I’d grow out of it, but, yeah, that hasn’t quite happened.  A quick look in the dictionary will tell you a “dork” is someone who tends to look odd or behave ridiculously around others.  I am really good at that.

In second grade, when asked as a class to declare out loud what 1+2 equals, I yelled out “thRRRRReee!” with a rolled R sound.  The teacher stopped class and asked “who said that!” and while everyone around me pointed at ME (ack!), I pointed at the boy who always got into trouble and quite effectively saved myself.  In third grade I bit a girl for not “pitching” the kickball to me the way I wanted her to.  In Jr. High, riding home in my friend’s dad’s very clean car after a Girl Scout camping trip, I dumped a hand full of crumbs into my hair to prevent making a mess in the car.  In college, on the very first day of my very first internship, I managed to park in the PRESIDENT’S parking spot all day long.  It was right next to the elevator and said it was reserved for the company I was interning for.  I thought it was my lucky day.  “I’m the INTERN!” I later declared to the ticket wielding parking attendant.  Dork.  Dorky Dorky Dork Dork.

Lately, I’ve been backing into vehicles for sport.  Still a dork.  Even as an adult.  More so as a Mom.

So, back in September, on the, oh, I don’t know, second day of Preschool for my daughter, I had a cringe worthy dork moment.  The elementary school didn’t start classes until the next week, so I had to take all 3 of my kiddos to the second day of Preschool.  As I was getting my daughter settled in her classroom, my 3 month old declared it was time to eat (ie started screaming).  And when an infant wants to eat, there is no “hold on sweetheart” or “just a minute” or “you’ll eat when we get home”…there is only “you’re hungry?” and then you immediately feed them.  I wasn’t so super keen on nursing the baby in the preschool room, so I asked the teacher if I could leave my oldest child with his sister in her class while I ran to the car to feed the baby “real quick”.

Twenty seconds later I am standing in front of my car, with a screaming baby on my hip, trying to decide where to sit in the car so that I cannot be easily seen.  I decide on the middle row in my minivan, where the windows are tinted, and I climbed in and got situated.  It was sort of warm, so I rolled the windows down a smidgen.  And locked the doors.  You never know.  About two minutes later, the very large SUV parked right next to me beeps, like someone is disarming the car alarm.  Two women and an energetic kid approach the SUV.  They are talking and laughing and cannot see me in my car, feeding my baby, at all.  At all at all.  I am hidden for sure.  But I can see them and hear them – they are a mere foot or two away from me.  All of a sudden, the little kid THROWS open the passenger door of the SUV, which in turn slams into my car, which shudders.  A small earthquake.  Two things come to mind, 1) that left a mark for sure and 2) do they really not know I am in here?  The mom lets out a yelp which turns to a chuckle (I swear), tells the kid to “be careful!” and looks around to make sure no one saw.  She glances at my driver seat, which is empty, so she must have assumed my car was empty too.  Only it wasn’t.  I was in there.  As she buckles her kid in the SUV, I start to freak out that this woman is about to leave the scene and I will never find her again to pay for the damages!  (Though I should have figured I’d see her on a regular basis since her kid goes to the same school as my kid.)  So, I introduce her to the Dork.

I stop feeding my baby, who doth protest very loudly.  I engage the sliding door to open, forgetting that I had locked the car.  So my car alarm goes off.    I pop out of the middle of my car with a screaming baby and a blaring alarm, shouting “you hit my car!” all while feverishly pushing all of the buttons on the alarm thingy on my key chain.  Enter, Dork.

She jumped back.  She gasped with her hand over her mouth.  Yep, she had no idea I was lurking in my car.  She looked at me like I was ca-razy, gave her friend a “can you believe this lady?” look, and as I examined my car, she flatly told me that her door didn’t even hit my car.  Really.  “Yeah it did. It was like a small earthquake!” I said.  But she probably didn’t hear me, what with the screaming baby and car alarm.  I couldn’t see any marks on my car, so all I could do was give her my dorkiest look.  And she returned my look with something I am all too familiar with.  That look that says “you are so weird.”  And she got in her car and drove away.

I stopped the alarm, laughed at myself, climbed back into my car, closed the door, and didn’t bother to lock it.  I see her every time I go to my daughter’s preschool, and I avoid her lest she recall my dork-mom-moment and give me that look again.  Oh, and I try not to park next to her.


One response to “A Dork is a Dork, of course of course

  1. Natty Pie's mom says:

    So funny!

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