Now, before I begin my little story of peril and awkwardness, there's something you need to know about me.
I suck with names and faces.
As in, I have zero retention until I've talked to you a few times, during which your name was either plastered to your chest or you repeated your name a half dozen times.
It doesn't mean I don't care. Truly. It's just what happens when one's mom smokes pot while pregnant.
Let's all blame Maxine. And the 70's.
One mother in Joseph's little crew of friends was introduced as Barry's mom. (I'm changing the names here to protect, well, no one, but since I don't know her well, I thought I should.) I know her given name was mentioned at least once, but at the time I had no idea the following would happen:
1. That Joseph would be friends with Barry.
2. That Joseph would be on Barry's tee ball team.
3. That her husband would coach the team.
4. That we would chit chat about chickens and ribs and canning.
5. That Barry would come to Joseph's birthday party.
6. That I'd really like her.
In the last eight months, she's called me on my phone, we've chatted at school events and tee ball games, and, most recently, decided to have the kids go to her house for daycare over the summer.
And in all the time that I've known her, she's called with the greeting, "Hi! It's Barry's mom."
And because of this...
Yesterday, as I tried to figure out who to write the kids' first week of summer daycare check to, I realized I didn't know her name.
And I had no idea how I was going to ask.
I thought about calling or texting her and asking her to spell it.
But what if she replied, "J-a-n"?
Would I then say, "Oh! I thought there was a silent n"?
I've used this method before to disastrous results. Such as the time I added, "I meant your last name." And the reply was silence followed by, "S-m-i-t-h."
I fretted and squirmed with this situation. I thought about calling the school and asking the secretary. I thought about looking up her daycare license by address, because that I do know. I thought about biting the bullet and asking a mutual friend, but I was too beet red with embarrassment.
And then, like an angel chorus from on high, she sent me an email.
With her name in the signature.
And now, I'll never forget her name or how it's spelled.
Which means out of Joseph's six good friends, I only have four more names to figure out.
22 hours ago