There are times in my life when I succeed. There are also times when I fail.
There are also times when something I do is considered what we here in the Moss household refer to as an:
Epic Fail.Today I went grocery shopping, and bagged my own groceries. Unfortunately, my college job as a meat market cleaner/grocery bagger didn't serve me well, and I made the bag to heavy. When I lifted it out of the cart to put it into the back of my husbands nice, small (i.e. NOT a minivan) car....it broke. 2 bottles of Shasta...yeah, that's right, I'm not above Shasta Pop...busted open and spewed strawberry kiwi soda all over the side of this beautiful car.
Epic Fail.Last night I stayed up late to watch a movie. I had to wait until my kids were asleep (which takes forever, because they are CRACK HEADS...no offense to the crack heads reading my blog.) and until my nerd was sleeping as well. I prefer to watch certain movies alone, so that I don't have to hear him snorting and scoffing at my chick flicks. My husband is an amazing man in about 1 bazillion ways...but in his tolerance for chick flicks? No siree. INTOLERANT. At the first sight of tears, death, or lovemaking that doesn't involve anyone like Angelina Jolie being slammed against a wall while holding a gun......he has no interest. Period. Nada.
So anyway.......I watched my movie, and it sucked BTW, in case you were wondering. But..the problems came when I was half asleep and decided to check all of the locks on the doors before I could fall asleep. OCD? Mmmmmm, maybe a little. Shut up. Anyway...so there I am, stumbling around checking the locks, when I step on Chick Hits. (In case you don't know who Chick is, he is the pissy green sedan who keeps losing the Piston Cup to Strip Weathers in the movie Cars. I know, I've hit an all time low for having known that. But whatever...I am currently wearing elastic waisted pants, and we all know I wasn't that cool to begin with.)
So as soon as my foot hits Chick hits, I roll about 2 feet down the hall, hit a RARE clean spot on the hardwood floors, skid another 3 feet into a wall, where I smash my face against a family portrait of my husbands' brothers' family (sorry, guys)....knocking it to the ground, where it smashes, and I wake up one of the kids and my husband, AND...I get a bloody nose.
No. I'm not kidding. I wish I were.
Epic Fail.So then yesterday, I was at an assessment for my youngest son to be accepted into a special preschool for ASD/SPD kids. (Scroll through my older blogs to see what that is) So we started off things on a rough note, because I was, as always, late...even though I left my house with 20 minutes to spare. I swear to all things holy, there is a time/space continuom (sp?) around my house that makes time lapse by at least 15 minutes as soon as I leave my friggin' driveway. No seriously. I hate that I am always late, and it pisses me off like nothing else can! But......alas. There I am. The last one to arrive. Like always. Super.
So anyway, we walk in....and my youngest son immediately starts squirming to be put down in this classroom, because it is literally filled with toys. No really. I don't even thing it has a floor. Just layers upon layers of toys. Anyway...I am standing there apologizing for being late (of course) and he is starting to wig out, because....well, that's what my youngest son does. He ignores people and wigs out. Welcome to the world of autism, folks. Hope you enjoy your stay.
So as he is squirming, he cuts it. Now, I WISH I were talking about a little, petite, cute 2.5 year old diaper fart that sounds muffled and cute. But alas...no. It was a big, manly, trucker fart. No really. My father was a trucker, and I know what trucker farts sound like. And this, my friends, was a trucker fart.
Both of the teachers looked at me like I was covered in sh*t. Oh yes, like I'd rolled in dung and arrived naked. I quickly tried to explain that the toot wasn't me. It was my son! Really, it was! They just looked at me like I was nuts, and flared their nostrils at me.
The nostril flare is never good.
They didn't believe me. They thought I not only arrived late to the very important appointment, but that I cut the cheese when I arrived. Awesome.
Epic Fail.I have plenty more epic fails to share, but I am on the verge of crying because of how many epic fails I have had in the last 24 hrs alone. I think everyone has them. It can't possibly be just me. I guess the key is smiling and putting on your big girl pants and moving on after an epic fail. God knows I've moved on after my share. How about you? Any epic fails to share?
Brooke Moss.
