FAUX PAS UN

We have all done it, committed the "false step", or violation of social norms.  Some people stumble more than others, but the end result is always the same: the violator has an overwhelming desire to dive into the depths of the earth.  I committed one of the unforgettable faux pas in our family soon after my daughter was born. 

My baby was a screamer.  There were several inciting circumstances, but the bottom line was that she hollered from morning until night.  Relief from the din was achieved only by holding her from dawn until dusk.  As wonderful as that bonding experience was, it was tiring in itself, and I welcomed respite whenever it made itself available.

After a few months, we attended a large family gathering.  Relatives from far and wide had come to visit and there were many that I had not met before.  One woman came out of the crowd bearing gifts: she had embroidered some things for the baby's layette.  They were beautiful and dainty, and it was clear that this was her specialty.  She had several to choose from and it was difficult to settle upon just one.  I thanked her profusely, feeling guilty that I did not know her name.  Then she wanted to hold the bairn.  I felt guilty handing over a bullhorn to an innocent bystander, but she insisted on taking the baby.  Miraculously, the baby didn't utter a peep.  She snuggled down into the woman's shoulder, the woman smiled contentedly and wandered off to find a quiet place to sit. 

My eyes darted frantically around and settled on my sister-in-law.  "What is that lady's name?", I hissed at her.  She followed my pointed look and frowned.  "Caroline", she said.  I should have noticed the hesitation in her voice.

Caroline turned out to be the Baby Whisperer of the family.  She could charm any devil child into a soft, cuddly angel baby, and she was proud of it.  She was perfectly content to sit and snuggle my tyke while I chatted with guests, ate, drank, and nearly forgot that I even was a mother.  I only remembered when people gave me a startled look and asked, "Where's the baby?"  I happily pointed out Caroline, sitting in the corner with the snoozing infant.  I raved about Caroline to anyone who asked; what wonderful baby taming skills she had, what a way with babies she had, what beautiful creations she had embroidered.  I couldn't say enough about Caroline and her talents.  I made a point to say her name over and over so it wouldn't blend in with all of the other new names I was learning.

The evening ended too soon, in my opinion, and the guests were saying their goodbyes.  Caroline gave my daughter back to me and once again I praised her talents to all who would listen.  I thanked her profusely for giving me a break to socialize with the family.  Over the crowd I saw my mom and I hastily waved her over to introduce her to Caroline.  "Mom", I began, "this is who has been guarding the baby all night, and she is the reason why we haven't heard her screaming!  This is Caroline!"  Caroline looked at me and said in a curt monotone, "It's Catherine."

I think you can imagine how small I felt at that moment.  My happy bubble of being at a party without having another entity about whom to worry seemed to pop loudly around my own sorry being.  I could almost feel it running down my face.  To this day I have trouble remembering if her name is Caroline or Catherine.