Flying Maxi Pads

Here’s a sure-fire way to embarrass your 14-year-old son, a wacky Mom moment that has caused me to analyze the organization (or serious lack thereof) of my pocketbook.

Max and his guy pack quickly surround me as I step out of my vehicle upon returning from a grocery store run.

“We’re going for a bike ride into Los Gatos. I need money for something to drink when we get there. It’s really hot,” Max states.

“Sure, sure,” I say. I’m in a rush, too. I need to get the car unloaded, put everything away and make the pie I was planning for dessert tonight. (I wonder to myself if there’s chivalry left among fourteen year old boys. Is it possible that a few of them will assist me in carrying a bag or two of the groceries up the stairs and into the house? Maybe even my own son?) I quickly reach inside my pocketbook, a deep bottomless pit of receipts, crumpled up lists, lipsticks and tissue packs, push aside the iPhone… the checkbook…ah, here’s the wallet. My hand comes up for air and brings forth the wallet as well as a rather large bunch of thinly veiled maxi pads — which fly (seemingly airborne) out of my hand and into the boy group hanging at the edges of the just parked car.

The boys start to back up in unison, a few turn their backs on the astonishing scene. The shortest of the pack, who is leaning against his red BMX bike, shakes his head and mutters, “Oh man.” Max’s attempt to pretend this isn’t happening, to secure a wad of bills (as opposed to a wad of maxi pads) and then to pedal away quickly from the humiliating driveway scene, is foiled because I AM CRACKING UP… hysterically! The effect of flying maxi pads on this crowd of teenaged males is just too hilarious and I am unable to contain myself.

“Mom,” Max implores, “get yourself together.” He’s so disgusted, observing me as I scramble and laugh, scramble and laugh to pick up my pads, that he forgoes the money, hops on his bike and leads his bike pack away.

I laugh-carry my groceries up the steps and into the house.

I’m sorry your mom looked like such a bumbling idiot, my son. What can I say….maxi pads happen.

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