According to Merriam-Webster, one of the definitions of mortify is to subdue or deaden. It once meant to ‘put to death’. The most common use of mortify today is when speaking of being humiliated; you can still make the connection with death when speaking of “dying of embarrassment”. If you have children, they have certainly caused you to be mortified at one time or another. If not, well, I say you’re lying. You see, children don’t inherently know social norms, cannot read social cues, and generally have no idea when things should be kept secret or not said at all. Well, even some adults I know haven’t learned those things! Even when they are aware of them, they can interpret them differently than we think they should. This can obviously lead to some amazingly hilarious situations! That is, if they aren’t happening to you.

We have been bless with three boys who are 7, 6, and 4. Three boys who are full of energy, never quiet, and constantly bending the line between acceptable and unacceptable. I mean you can even hear their whispers three rooms away! They are so close in age and are almost always together, so they feed off each other like it’s their job. There have been COUNTLESS times that they have made we want to literally melt into the ground and pretend I never existed. I know I’m not alone! I’m going to run through the top embarrassing moments by kids have created, and I hope you’ll share yours in the comments!

I Give You Permission To Laugh

Why do kids ALWAYS have to poop in public bathrooms? It’s gross, they take forever, and They. Touch. Everything. And why are the public bathrooms suddenly the most popular place in the store when my kids have to be in there? If they are all with me, we are all crammed into one stall, because I do not let my children use public bathrooms alone yet. You just never know, so into the bathroom with me they go. At least 7 times out of 10, someone else is in there pooping. Whatever, we all poop. Fact of life. My boys are obsessed with poop, because you know, boys. So one day we were at a store – I can’t recall which store at this moment, but I’m almost positive it was Target because I hardly go elsewhere – and the lady in the neighboring stall was having some rather unfortunate digestive difficulties. There were noises and smells and I’m sure she was mortified. To make it that much worse, one of my children (they all blend together so I usually don’t remember who said what) began telling me in his LOUDEST voice possible that the person next door was pooping. I tried to shush him but that seemed to escalate the situation. He proceeded to start laughing hysterically screaming ‘Mommy! She farted! It was really loud and stinky! ‘ It then got worse and he started asking what she ate and it was so stinky he was going to puke. Then his brothers started in and announced that they just couldn’t take the smell anymore. Poor lady….

Again, in a public bathroom, my kid (again using his loudest voice possible) started freaking out because he could see my penis and Mommy’s penis must have fallen off. Tried to explain to him that girls don’t have penises but he wasn’t buying it. THEN, he asked me why there is hair where my penis is supposed to be. *Insert dramatic eye roll here*.

When my oldest was somewhere between two and three I took him grocery shopping with me. I was very pregnant with our third child at the time and making my husband buy his own beer so I could avoid all the judging looks from people who thought that I was drinking while preggo. We got to the checkout line and Braden began freaking out looking around. He then screamed “But Mommy, you forgot the beer! Mommy, what are you going to do?!?! You have to get the beer!” I still think that the cashier was convinced I was lying when I said I clearly wasn’t consuming any beer given the circumstances.

And last, but certainly not least, the epic story of why we no longer use a certain grocery delivery service… When the kids were really little, I worked evenings so that we didn’t have to use daycare. Because of this, I either had to take all of them to the store with me (I’d rather have a million root canals) or go on Saturday morning to the ONE grocery store in our town. A town that really needs at least two. Again, nothing is worse. So, we started using a grocery delivery services and it was amazing. So convenient that I was willing to pay the higher prices because again, kids and stores – it’s pretty much the worst scenario ever. It was great! We typically had them deliver Saturday mornings at 7am, because unfortunately we were up that early with the littles. The big kids loved it – they would stand at the door and get the bags and run them to the kitchen. One week, I discovered I could save money if I had them delivered in the middle of the week. I’m sure it was something like $5, but hey, every dollar counts – kids are money eating machines. I decided that I would have them delivered around lunch time on a Tuesday. Well, the delivery person arrives and I open the door and notice that my children are nowhere to be found, which was really weird given the fact that they loved grocery day SO much. I see them standing behind our dining room table. I asked them if they were going to come help. They were silent (which literally never happens in this house unless they are sleeping). The delivery person said hi to them, smiled, and waved. Again, nothing. I asked them to come help with the bags and they said no. I asked them why they wouldn’t help because I couldn’t possibly anticipate the answer I was going to get. “Because we don’t like black people”. Umm, what? Are you kidding me?!?! This was not a thing – our neighbors are black and the kids always want to hang out with them, they have black friends at school, racism is not a thing in our house. I. WANTED. TO. DIE. The delivery guy had to have heard them. He just had to. Remember how I said that my kids are not quiet? He played it off like he didn’t. And then I tipped him like $50 to try to make up for it, which I know sounds ridiculous. After some questioning of them they said that they didn’t like him because he had dreds and boys should have short hair, which led to another conversation about how there is no such thing as boy hair and girl hair, etc. But seriously? That is NOT AT ALL what you said. And that my friends, is why we no longer have groceries delivered.

I hope you feel compelled to share your embarrassing kid stories with us! I know you’ve got some gems!