Awkward Conversations. On Halloween. Out Loud. Because It's Scarier. And They Promised Me A Cupcake.

It's three days after October 31st. Which means, if you have elementary sized children, you either successfully ignored all pleas for help at the classroom Halloween party* OR you were tricked into volunteering through an onslaught of email guilt. And the promise of cupcakes.

Guess which one I felt forced to chose the other day?

AWKWARD CONVERSATIONS WITH MARTHA

(Class Halloween Party Edition)

NONE OF WHICH WAS CARRIED OUT IN MY OWN HEAD 

BUT I WAS DRESSED AS JULIETTE GORDON LOW

Obviously.

BECAUSE I WAS PROMISED A CUPCAKE

AND IT WAS HALLOWEEN

ALTHOUGH, LET'S FACE IT, 

THE FIRST REASON WAS THE MOST PERSUASIVE

Conversation #1
Scene: Arriving at the school office. In costume. To eat cupcakes volunteer at the classroom party.
School Employee: (coming face to face with me as they are exiting the office) Your highness! (holds door open, does one of those European courtly bow and scrape things)
Me: (in my, "I didn't think before I opened my mouth" tone) Uh. Noooo. Not a queen. (gestures in turn to Brownie sash and birthday crown) Juliette. Gordon. Low.
School Employee: Um?.?. I...
Me: (walks through door. Thinks. Turns back around. ) Oh! But, you know, thanks for holding the door for me anyway, even if I'm not a queen!

Conversation #2
Scene: In the classroom, next to the q-tip skeleton craft
Other Mom, probably here for the cupcakes too/OM,PHFTCT: And you are...a birthday queen?
Me: Oh, no! I'm Juliette Gordon Low. She was born on October 31, 1860, so today is my birthday, or (chuckle) really her birthday because I'm just dressed as Daisy. (smile)
OM,PHFTCT: (pausing) I don't think I know who that is.
Me: (In my "I learned from the previous conversation not to think everyone will know who I am but that's ok, I can explain it to them" tone) Ohhh! She founded Girl Scouts in 1912, but, one of the things she was know for, was, after going to fancy parties (swirl skirt) she would typically be found fishing (hold up fishing rod) late at night in her ball gown. She was a very interesting woman! In fact, there was this-
OM, PHFTCT: (quickly) Oh! I forgot! I was, I was, supposed to help organize the, um, mummy yarn craft. So, sorry.

Conversation #3
Scene: Near the cupcake table, waiting for the children to fill their plates and leave. So I can eat a cupcake.
Some Other Mom: (friendly, with a smile) Hi! I'm Sally.
Me: (barely glancing up from cupcakes, mentally trying to figure out the cupcake to student ratio) Hi! I'm Martha.
Some Other Mom: (friendly, smiling) How are you?
Me: (quick glance from the cupcakes, so I don't look rude) Good. How are you?
Some Other Mom:  (friendly, smiling) Good.
Me: (caught up in mental cupcake math) Nice. Good to hear. And how are you?
Some Other Mom:  (silence)
Me: (REALLY looking away from cupcakes this time) Ummm. (pause) We already did that part of the conversation, didn't we? 


Eventually I did make it to the snack table.

But, as I looked forlornly and predictably at an empty cupcake platter scattered with crumbs, I thought to myself, "WWDD**?"

And that's when I went fishing.

For cupcakes.

Off of Katie's plate.

Which, in my defense, I offered to give back if I could tell her just one more of my Juliette Gordon Low stories.

But...

she refused.

So I ate it.



*High Five, by the way! Ignore all the glares from all those teacher type readers over there.
**What Would Daisy Do?

Conversations. In My Head. Probably. Mostly. Hopefully.

I'm Katie's Girl Scout troop cookie manager this year. I had parents picking up cookies from my house all last weekend.

Ding! Dong!
Me: (opening door) Hi!
Parent: Hi! You must be Martha.
Me: Yep! You must be Cookies.
Parent: Uh, I'm Roy. Spring's Dad?
Me: (in my head, loudly) Blah blah, blibbity blee, whatever Dude, I've already named you Cookies. There's no gettin' out of that now! (out loud) Nice to meet you. The basement's this way.


I read about a new beauty regimen on PinINterest the other day. Then I went grocery shopping.

Me: (in my own head, the middle of the health and beauty aisle, bottle of shampoo in my hand) Huh. Soooo, no-poo. It's a thing. That's really good for your head. Because Poo-Oop-A- Poo POO! Betty Boop said so. (pause) No she didn't. I made that up. Just so I could say Poo-Oop-A-Poo. (flip bottle over, read back) OK. Soooodium lauryl sulfate. That's bad. Because.... Um.... Because.... of no poo stuff. Poo. Poo. Cow go noooo-poooo! (chuckle) Nooo-p- (Look around. Catch another shopper's eye down the aisle.)  oooo.... (Put the bottle back on the shelf. Leave. Quickly.)


I woke up early the other day. But not before all the illness germs did.

Me: (walking, OK stalking, or fine, really, clomping with extra stomping, into bedroom as Jon is getting ready for work) DUDE! The kids are sick. Again. TheyAreAlwaysSick!Aren'tThey?Don'tAnswerThat.TheyAre.EverySingleDayOfEverySingleWeekOfEverySinglMonth! Man! I can't handle this anymore!
Jon: You know, I always thought you were this overly compassionate person. (pause) I don't think so anymore.
Me: (grumpily) Yeah. I'd make a horrible nurse. "Hey you! Why are you back at the hospital! I treated you last week. Get out."
Jon: (in his fake pitiful voice, which sounds a lot like Rob Schnieder from Waterboy, also, don't tell Jon I said that) "But... I have no legs..."
Me: "So? There are people with bigger problems. Deal with it, figure it out, whatever!" Now move. I have stuff to do.
Jon: hahaha! Exactly.
Me: No. Seriously. Move. I have to get to the thermometer. I have stuff to do. Stupid germs.

More Awkward Conversations With Martha

Proof, once again, that I should only have conversations with other people inside my own head.

Conversation #1:

Yesterday, I braved the cold, the rain, the crowds, the aisles of meat based samples that is Costco in order to pick up our Christmas cards, and, of course had to have this conversation in the restroom:

Tall Lady: (watching me help Ellie wash her hands) She's cute! How old?

Me: (thinking, "that the Tall Lady looks vaguely familiar") She's eighteen months now.

Tall Lady: Awww... She's-

Me: (rudely interrupting, because I spend my days with very small children and that's how they roll) Hey! Olympic High, right? You drive that brown van. You bring your kids there on Mondays and Wednesdays for swim lessons at 6:15. A boy and a girl, right?

Tall Lady: Wooooowwww.... (glances nervously around the restroom) Um. You're, um, very (begins to edge toward the exit) wow, you're (gulp) good.... (chucks paper towel at the trash can, misses and flees as if her life depends on it.)

Conversation #2:

On Tuesday, I called and left this message at Rejuv Spa:

"Hi. Um, my name is Martha and, I'm really not sure if this was legitimate or not, but, um, my husband, his name is Jon, found an iPhone outside your business the other day, and he brought it in and it was some one's that was there. And, anyway, someone else told him that he could have a free massage, but he doesn't want it, in fact he'd rather have the iPhone, not that he wants the iPhone back, that'd be weird and probably illegal, um, anyway, soooo, he said I could have it, the free massage, not the iPhone, that's yours, or someone else's or something. Anyway, like I said before I don't even know if this is for real but if it is, you can call me back at 555-5555. If I just sound insane, and you know, that wasn't a real offer of a free massage, you can just, um, not call me back. Thanks!" (click)

UPDATE:

My massage is scheduled for Saturday. Because Rejuv is awesome. Or because business is really slow and they're bored and nothing perks up a slow weekend like giving that "weirdly awkward lady on the answering machine"* a free massage.

*Um, I don't actually know if this is my new nickname from the employees at Rejuv, but, let's face it, it totally could be!

Conversation #3:

I went to a Christmas brunch last weekend. There was Egg Thing. There was French Toast Thing. There was the Sufjan Stevens Christmas album playing in the background. There was coffee. A lot of coffee. And with all this you'd think it would have been more than enough to keep me busy for hours. Oh, nooooooo. And, unfortunately, I was fully aware that an hour long soliloquy with my coffee cup would have just looked weird so instead...

Me: Hi! My name is Martha. (sitting down at a table and sipping my coffee at the same time) Good coffee. And you are?

Stranger: Um, hi. I'm Thelma. (smiles nicely) Yeah it is.

Me: Oh! You're Marshall's wife! You guys just moved back from Illinois. You were there for, what, two years?

Thelma: Um, yeah. Something like that....

Me: (shoveling Egg Thing and French Toast Thing into my mouth at top speed because I just know one of my kids is going to demand my attention soon and, gosh darn it, I am hungry) So, did you guys move back to that cute little blue house with the hydrangea bushes that Marshall bought before you were married? Or are you somewhere else now?

Thelma: (nervously) Um...no...we're off of Mountain Crest now....

Me: (gulping coffee, shoveling food and whipping my head around like I'm watching a supersonic tennis match while searching for those Mommy attention seeking children of mine) Nice. (more coffee gulping) Hey.... (my brain finally starts catching up to my coffee consumption) You know I'm Jon's wife, right? He and Marshall used to work together. Because I just realized that I could have sounded like a total stalker just then, knowing where you've lived and when you'd moved and all that. Totally not a stalker here! (nervous giggle) That'd be weird. Jon, over there (points to Jon across the room) he's my husband. He knows Marshall. So, you know, that makes me not a freaky scary stalker....

Thelma: (nervous eye flicker)

Me: You know, I probably should have just stuck with talking with my coffee cup. I mean, that's what I normally do at these kind of part- Yeeeeaaaahhhh. Um. I think I'm just gonna stop talking now.