I may be on the “No Chaperone” list after this field trip.

This is the ridiculous story of how I may be banned forever from chaperoning any field trip at school again. It is the story of how when faced with someone’s probable MOST EMBARRASSING MOMENT OF THEIIR LIFE I am standing with someone else’s son trying to determine whether to tuck her boobies back in or RUN...

This little corner of the Renaissance festival looked like an Ewok village from Star Wars. There were old-fashioned street vendor carts selling things scattered around. Some were open like the one in the above picture and some were closed like an old-fashioned wagon. This one in particular looked like the fortune-teller’s wagon in the Wizard of Oz. It had a little metal side porch for the person inside to get in and out. It had been raining fiercely and it was letting up. There was a woman who sold perfume in the porched wagon and had peeked her head out the window to see if it was safe to come outside. She then decided to step out onto the metal stoop of the wagon and held her hands to the sky, palms up to determine whether to venture out further.

Renaissance festivals are bawdy by nature and the costumes are made for every size and shape. It is a very “one size fits all” costume assortment. This woman was dressed like a peasant in a long brown dress with a large elastic boat neck and elastic waist. This woman was on the larger end, (I have to say it now so you understand later) she was at the largest end of the peasant dress spectrum. While this boy and I were bee lining it to the porta-potties we were also walking directly towards the bottom of the wagon stoop steps as the peasant lady decides to venture off the wagon and takes one step down and the back of her dress catches on the metal stoop.

The back of her dress catches but she continues the downward momentum but her center of gravity shifts and she is now going face down, feet up SPLAT into a mud puddle…but her dress stayed on the top of the porch. Well, most of it did. The neck was around her ankles. and she was face down in soppy, soft mud.

Do none of the people who work these festivals believe in bras? Is this the hidden underworld of the traveling renaissance people? Is the “Renaissance World” not about history but about women who don’t believe in wearing undergarments?!

I am standing there. This woman is laying there with one boobie off to the side and pointing straight at us and the other boobie is pointing down towards her feet and she lifts her head and spits out the mouthful of mud, (with the same shocked expression and manerism as if socked by a pie in the face) and I just realized this boy I am chaperoning is going home and telling his mom and dad that. “Mrs. ______ and I were alone at the field trip and we saw a naked woman.”

I am frozen. The boy is frozen. We are both frozen with eyebrows raised and eyeballs hanging out. Do I reach down and tuck her boobie that is closest to us under her? Or the other boobie that is further away? Do I lift her up and let her boobies hang where they are supposed to be for all to see? Her head is at our feet and she is looking at me.

I then realize this boy is now going home and telling his parents, “Mrs. ______ and I were alone at the field trip and we saw a naked woman and Mrs. _____ touched her boobies. I turn my head and look at this boy just as strangers began throwing their rain coats on the poor woman. Thank God. He and I walked briskly forward to the bathrooms not saying a word.

I failed. I am the girl who if there is a possibility to get a curling iron stuck in your hair it will stick in mine. Like stick “Lucille Ball style” on the top to your scalp and you don’t have to hold it because it is holding onto the roots and is perky like a cartoon curling iron.

Like a cartoon curling iron hidden under a towel turban until you unveil it to the hairdresser for help. Like so embarrassing you have to send flowers to the salon the next day as bribery hoping they forget your name.

Here is a naked peasant woman with boobies trying to run away from each other and I froze. Perhaps when I have to answer for this God will understand. Perhaps there is a “pass” for “curling iron girl” or “exploding egg girl”. For now I will have a moment of silence for “Peasant Woman” and say a thank you for the people who did come to her aid. I bet they never had rotten eggs explode on them and get stripped naked and hosed off in the front yard. I bet they never had to bribe a hair salon.


First half of this story from the day before

Chaperoning boys school field trip and the unthinkable… (allthatmakesyou.wordpress.com)

The exploding egg story

Exploding Eggs and Nakedness…Typical Sunday with Family


Chaperoning boys school field trip and the unthinkable…

Stay with this story until the very end. I don’t even know how it is possible that it is true, but it is. I could not have ever dreamt that a moment this embarrassing wouldn’t happen to me but instead happen in front of me to witness. It was my chance to show the world how to help or assist someone in that instance that they realize that everyone is looking at you, your face is hot and your ears are ringing and it will be a while before you can laugh about it. It takes exactly two seconds for a spectator to laugh I learned, even if on the inside.

It was last fall and I had volunteered to chaperone my twins sixth grade field trip. This was a big day for them as well as me. It was also their twelfth birthday and probably the last time they would actually want me to go on a field trip with them. Their school makes you jump through a ton of hoops to get “permission” to drive yourself, (not drive the kids or ride on the bus with the kids) to a public venue and spend the day with YOUR children. I had to have a background check. Well, the background check, I am assuming, is required if your going to walk around with your children and someone else’s children. Don’t get me started and yes I know that better safe than sorry but by the time I am done “getting permission” to spend the day with my kids I might be homicidal. After what one little boy saw while with me they may revoke my privileges…

It is a windy, cold and rainy fall day in the woods at a…renaissance festival. Let me try to paint a picture…

Like Woodstock Wet

The entire sixth grade gets off the buses and I am assigned my two boys and a handful of other boys to keep track of. This festival is in the most beautiful woodsy setting. The walking paths carve through the trees and there are little clearings with vendors in carts, rides and food. If it weren’t a giant mud-ball it would have been a perfect birthday, day with my boys.

I had been well versed the night before on how to “act cool”. I already decided the day would be filled with, “SURE! I will buy that for you, it is your birthday!” I would bump my boy’s status up a notch so that when I was in the drop off/pick up line at school my boys classmates would walk down the sidewalk and give me the sideways deuce with their fingers and a head nod to say, “wassup.” My boys would stop asking me to, “not talk when the car door opens.”

This is how the day really went.

We were wet and cold and muddy. I was in charge of holding everything that each boy bought. If anything that belonged to any of them became saturated with water I was also in charge of carrying that as well. I was to stand outside of all temporary mens bathrooms and wait while a half-dozen little boys continually peed out the sugar products they consumed non stop but not ever at the same time.

This is how it began…

While walking through one of the little clearing the boys stopped to do this…

We actually picked one up for Peter for Christmas. He had been asking for a “horn blower” for years.

While they were all doing this (swapping spit on animal parts) one of my brood announced he had to relieve himself. I turned and said to all of the other boys, “The bathroom is right over there. You all stay right here and you can watch me walk him over and we will be right back.” This is another one of my “I know God has a sense of humor” because of all the kids that this had to happen to he may be the one it would shock the most. He is the kid who is a little extra awkward for an already awkward age of twelve. He’s the one who shuffles when he walks and likes to fake seizures to get out of gym class I’m told. My boys have known him for years and he’s a sweet boy who will grow into who he is supposed to be…if this day with me didn’t ruin him forever.

Part 1 of 2
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Here is the second half…


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