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July 24, 2002 ~ My Most Embarrassing Moment
People often ask, "What is your most embarrassing moment?" expecting a humorous answer--something about sex, a parentally inflicted mortification, or a social faux pas. I'm afraid that I can't provide humor with my "most embarrassing moment." It is not funny at all.
It is, however, the one moment in my life that still causes my cheeks to burn when I think about it, years later. My stomach knots up, and the memory still makes me sad and remorseful, after all these years. It wasn't embarrassing in a social way, not at all really, but it is embarrassing in a personal pride sort of way. I'm afraid you may laugh at me for this story; you may realize my hidden, inner, goodie-two-shoes. It is about a time that I failed. A time that I was not responsible. A time when I was selfish. And I guess that is the base of it. I was selfish. Stupidly, needlessly, incredibly selfish. And, oh my, yes, that greatly embarrasses me.
It was at least eight or nine years ago, maybe more. Back in middle school. I was babysitting the most amazing, most intelligent, sweetest, angelic little three-year-old boy in the world. From the very first night with him, I fell in love with him. I knew that I was the luckiest babysitter in the world. He was curious, always asking questions. He loved to read. He never disobeyed. He was soft spoken, gentle, and very kind. We would play wonderful imaginary games.
The first few nights, it started well enough. We would play and talk and read until his bedtime, and then I would take him through his nightly ritual. Make sure you get the very back teeth clean, too. Go pee one more time before you get in bed. Which pajamas do you want to wear? What story shall we read? Then, after he was in bed, I would go out to the living room and read until his parents came home. They always assured me how much the boy loved having me as a babysitter, and how wonderful I was with him.
After a bit, his parents suggested that I could use the Internet, if I wanted to, after he went to bed. I didn't have an Internet connection at home aside from my experiments on our old Commodore 64 with the local BBSs, which were limited, and the public library computers didn't yet have Internet access. So I was trilled to explore.
At first I was very responsible. I didn't turn on the computer until the boy was sound asleep. But my fascination with the online world started to grow, and, finally, one night, since the boy was very immersed in his own little world of play at the time, and I had just been sitting and reading anyway, I got online. Then his bedtime crawled up, and I asked him to get ready for bed, and he did it on his own instead of having me to help him on his way. It took slightly longer than normal, but he was so well behaved that I told myself that I didn't really need to be there.
"Pick out a book for us to read," I told him, and I still sat on my butt at the computer. He squatted next to the bookshelf and looked carefully through the books. He was about twenty minutes late for his bedtime, but otherwise taking care of himself just fine. Ten minutes later, while he was still looking through the books and I was still sitting on the computer, his parents walked through the door.
They were very reserved and quiet, looking back and forth from me at the computer, and their son pulling books off of the shelf. The boy, thinking that he was in trouble, explained that he was picking out a bedtime book. The father took me home, not saying a word in the car, and they never called me back.
They had given me a gift earlier that evening, before they left, because I was "such an amazing babysitter." Yeah, an amazing babysitter who can't even get off of her butt for five minutes to care for their child. I was extremely, extremely disappointed with myself. I had been selfish and irresponsible. I had not done what I was paid to do. I had lost a job that I loved. But, worst of all, I had failed a child. I did not give him my attention when he needed it; I had judged a few lousy minutes online as more important than that bright little being whom I was supposedly caring for. Worst yet, I had made him think that he had done wrong, when really it was just me.
So, yes, that is my most embarrassing moment. It is not humorous or even scandalous, in the typical sense, but it is deeply, deeply shaming to me still. From that time forward I vowed to have a flawless work ethic and an unflagging commitment to my responsibilities. And never, ever again would I put anything before a child who needs me.
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