So. Funny story

At the beginning of June, we packed up our bags and headed south for a little vacation. Our first stop was Charlotte, NC, for one of Tim's cousin's wedding.

Because traveling with kids is always a little fraught, and it's compounded when the week before aaid travel is one of crazy deadlines and late hours for one spouse, leaving the other to juggle on her own, things get forgotten. In this case, it was a card and check for the happy couple.

No big deal, says I, I'll do it when we get home.

And sure enough, on Monday (after arriving home late Friday and spending the weekend getting back to normal. Or trying to.), the boys and I headed out for appointments and groceries.

Well, groceries came after appointments, and the boys, who had been pretty good during appointments, had devolved into twin Tasmanian Devils, whose sole joy in life came from causing pain and discomfort to the other.

So, with a cart full of food, I swung into the card aisle, my temple throbbing with the start of a migraine. I navigate past the stuffed animals (why, for the love of God, are there stuffed animals at grocery stores? Is it because they hate parents? It's not enough that we have to trek the aisles saying no to every terrible for you food, we then have to be bombarded with please for stuffed Badgers at checkout?) To the cards. Where a sketchy looking guy is perusing the offerings.

Youngest, upon seeing a stranger to talk to, curtails his brotherly torment to, instead, attempt to give entirely too much information to this man to whom I probably wouldn't have even said hello. Eldest, then, has to star screaming at the youngest about what a bad idea this is and Mooom, isn't there something you can do about him? And I'm by turns apologizing to sketchy man, wrangling the world's friendliest child, and trying to get the eldest to stop being such a nudge, all while desperately looking for a wedding card to grab so we can just be done.

I find the wedding cards, at last, scan past the floral and overly lacy ones that make you want to vomit a little, and spy a fun, contemporary looking one. I glance at the front and inside for maybe half a second -- it's a wedding card, what could go wrong? -- gather my children and run for the hills.

The week isn't any less harried, so I write a check, address and send the card, and check it off my list with a feeling of relief.

Until last night when I get a text from Tim's aunt with a picture of the card and lots of crying laughing emojis. Because that card? Has two grooms on it.

Two. Grooms.

Now, I'll admit, it never occurred to me that there would be gay wedding cards. That wasn't on my radar in that half-second glance AT ALL.

Except how did I miss it???

Aunt assures me they all thought it was hilarious. I tried to explain the chaos that was ensuing while choosing the thing. But honestly.

The mortification is unlikely to ever abate. Because being me is enough to make extended Sleepy family gatherings awkward and horrible all on its own. Adding in this? Where are the people swallowing holes when you need them?

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