Mr Sulu, Engage.

Mindi did a post recently on her most embarrassing mom moment. It inspired me to think about one of my own. So, here goes.

Even when it is very hard, we still love our moms. It's something that is born in us--to love our moms no matter what. And my mom is no exception. I love her though she has provided 99.9% of the most embarrassing moments of my life. If you think you can relate, you should know that I'm not talking about your average mom. The average mom wears regular clothes and says regular things and does regular activities. She might embarrass you now and then. But she doesn't excel at it. She just falls into it by accident. My mom, however, is truly proficient at embarrassment. She is an a expert. She has years of training and practice under her belt. Add to that a very active imagination, plus pretty much no fear of anything, and you have the makings for some brilliant embarrassing-mom moments. Here is one of my favorites:

Star Trek, the Movie. You know this story is going to be good when it involves Star Trek. It also involves a serious "trekkie" or Star Trek aficionado. (Although serious Star Trek aficionados refer to themselves as "trekkers" not "trekkies." But now I'm starting to look nerdy myself, so I'm just going to stop there.) Mom always loved the old generation of Star Trek. But it never really inspired her like Star Trek: The Next Generation. This new show really spoke to Mom's inner alien. So much so that she taped and watched the show religiously, read any and all books related to the series, and even sewed herself a Next Generation crew uniform, complete with working communicator pin (which she used judiciously to beam to her home planet on occasion. I'm pretty sure that's where she went during her strictly guarded nap-time).

Ok, so the year was about 1999 or maybe 2000. You can IMDB it and correct me if you really care that much. The last Star Trek: Next Generation movie was out, and our family was all together for Thanksgiving, I believe. We knew it was unavoidable that we'd have to go see it. But we all pleaded with my mom to PLEASE not wear her uniform to the show. This is like asking a child not to open his presents on Christmas morning. We should have known better. But she agreed, and we all set off for the movie, my mom swaddled in an ankle length wool coat, buttoned to her chin.

We got to the movie in plenty of time to get good seats. Ok, let's be honest. Only about 10 seats were taken for the entire show, 7 of them were us. Anyway, we all got our treats and sat down to wait for the previews to start. But where was Mom? Oh, there she was, down at the front of the theater, shedding her long wool coat. And underneath, TADA! The infamous red and black uniform, communicator pin and all. And Mom? What was she doing? Prancing around, strutting her stuff up front like a runway model, hips swaying on the catwalk. And to complete the ensemble, she was flashing the Vulcan sign for all to see. The other three people in the theater chuckled and pointed, delighted to see a follower of this magnitude in their very own theater (but secretly wishing it had been a Klingon crew member instead--better costume). Us? We were all slowly lowering ourselves in our stadium seats, hoping to avoid eye contact with Mom, least she be encouraged and do something worse, like recite Romulan poetry.

Never fear, lacking much attention, she did eventually put her coat back on and resumed her seat next to us. Just then the lights lowered to begin the show, and our red cheeks were hidden. And aside from a few hoots and hollers from the seat to my right when Captain Piccard made his first appearance, the rest of the show managed to go by without further shame.

Ah, Mom. How you do love an opportunity to show your devotion to the unknown galaxies and strange new lifeforms yet to be discovered. And because you're my mom, and it's programmed in me to love you no matter what (as strongly as it's programmed in Vulcans to avoid emotion), I only have one thing to say to you: Live long and prosper.