I Refused to Let My Crying Daughter Take Off The Earrings She Picked Out At A Wedding

Posted on June 29, 2011 by

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Guest Post By Maggie May Ethridge

Maggie May Family

Maggie May's family looking lovely pre earring incident.

Here we are at Mr. Curry’s cousin’s wedding. We arrived on time. A good beginning, an unusual beginning for our family.

Lola, 9, wore Justice. Ever, 6 months, and I wore Target. The men were looking good. My husband’s ass is a mover’s ass; it’s gorgeous, and even more gorgeous in black dress pants. We had stopped at Starbucks and Target on our way to the wedding. Lola and I ran into Target last minute to find some accessories for my dress. I picked cheap and beautiful silver bangles (I’m wearing them now—I’ll wear them all summer, I love bangles, and they go with everything) and long black feather earrings.

earrings

Look at my feather earrings.

Lola pouted while I shopped. I considered this. Earrings and bangles in my sweaty hand, I asked her if she wanted to buy the earrings she had been carrying around. I don’t usually cave, but this was a special occasion and Lola and I rarely shop together. She already had pretty earrings on, but she wanted the new earrings, of course.

My first mistake was caving. The mistakes I made afterward are too numerous to ensure a correct count, but let us attempt to document them, you know, for shits and giggles.

List For Shits & Giggles

1. I didn’t eat before we left, instead consumed coffee, ensuring that my nerves would be even more high strung than usual.

2. While entering the wedding, I failed to communicate to my husband that I was entering a mental twilight zone, where rational thought and emotion was leaving me.

3. When Lola asked me, “Mom can I please take these earrings off they are killing my ears,” for the second time, while crying, I said “No!” because everyone knows that special family occasions are the best time to ensure catastrophic meltdowns and make a point, because I didn’t spend seven dollars after you whined at me (guiltyguiltyfeelings) so you could whine at me again until I cave and let you take them off the first ten minutes of the event. SO NO YOU CANNOT TAKE THEM OFF, MY WHINY UNGRATEFUL CHILD.

4. Continue to fail to inform my husband that my unexplainable panic was becoming epic and as the breast implanted, skinny, tanned, drunken blonde chased after the even more terrifically drunk groomsman across the lawn of the event, I became convinced that I was a jiggly, enormous, old-looking mess and promptly wanted. To. Die. (In my defense I’m so hormonal since Ever Elizabeth’s birth. I cannot emphasize this enough.)

5. Panic further as I slowly realized that we were the only ones who brought children. As in, THE ONLY ONES. Were we allowed to bring them? Yes. Did we RSVP for each individual family member? Yes. Did everyone have a secret memo saying Nah, I’m not bringing my kids either and never pass it to us? YES. The awkward/old/ugly panicky feeling became horrible. I broke out in a cold sweat, holding Ever, feeling enormous and clunky and MOTHERLY (The irony! Oh sweet irony, you stupid bitch) and was horrified to see

6. My eldest daughter SITTING (the amount of capitals in this story is meant to inform you of my emotional state during this time, not to annoy the hell out of you) in the middle of the throngs of people walking around, holding her head in her hands while almost crying in silent protest of my refusal to let her take the damn earrings off. Next mistake

7. was becoming ENRAGED.

8. I grabbed her arm hard enough to hurt (I can count on one hands the times I’ve done that. This was a really, really, really, really bad day for me. Sigh. ) and pulled her up, whispering in my best Mommy Dearest impersonation: You better get it together right now. You are embarrassing me. If you do not stop pouting you will not watch TV all weekend. Her face crumpled even more. Oh my Lola.

9 I took her out front and stood, Ever in arms, making Lola stand behind me. I was so embarrassed at the entire situation, my own emotions and Lola’s ( first time ) public meltdown

( I know you are thinking to yourself that some other people might have been having a public meltdown as well, and I KNOW THAT SOMEONE ELSE WAS, BUT SOMEONE ELSE IS ADMITTING IT SO LET’S BE NICE ) that I was literally afraid to talk to her, least I do something unforgivable like curse at her ( I’ve never) or slap her (never done that either). Maybe this wasn’t a mistake, on second thought.

10. When my sweet husband sat next to me during the actual wedding 20 minutes later, I refused to talk to him about why I was being a total freak from outer space and sitting with what was, I’m sure, a really robot looking smile on my face and crazy black and white spinny wheels in my eyes. I was afraid I’d bawl. So instead of being glad he was so sweet and supportive and loving and delicious-assed, I made things worse. Let’s leave that there, where it belongs, HIDDEN FROM ALL HUMAN VIEW.

11. The entire bottom of my heel fell off.

12. We left.

lola and ever

Ever and Lola kissing.

Still, this happened. It wasn’t all bad.

(Images: Maggie May Ethridge)

This story was originally published on Flux Capacitor.

Maggie May Ethridge is a writer living in San Diego, CA with her husband and four children. She is the author of the weblog Flux Capacitor and an administrator for the I Heart My Pediatrician Facebook page, as well as having been published in magazines both online and in print such as Storybleed, Diagram and Magma. She is completing her second novel, Agitate My Heart.

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