Saturday, March 18, 2017

East Coast Re-Cap and Police Stops


He's back.  

My oldest son returned from his week-long East Coast journey.  It would be easier to retrieve classified government secrets than hear details about my son's trip.  He's not one to gush, ramble, or expand.  When asked about his trip, "fine" seemed to nicely sum up the week's itinerary (at least in his mind).

The day after his return, I took him to breakfast.  Over a stack of hotcakes (capitalizing on a full tummy and a contained environment), I pressed for more details.  In slow chunks, he revealed special moments: visiting the 911 memorial, racing up the Rocky steps in Philadelphia, and touring the deeply moving Holocaust Museum (among others).  Despite a jam-packed, monumental schedule, the Nintendo store in NYC was his most endearing experience.  (The Liberty Bell just can't compete with the Legends of Zelda!)

Most would think reducing one child from the mix would provide a bit of a respite.  No Sir/Ma'am.  Instead, one particular son ensured that my parenting muscles didn't get lazy.  

He.was.a.handful.

The lowlight of his week came when we discovered he forged our signature on some school papers.  In that moment, I wondered if adolescent forgers were destined to wear orange jump suits and shackles.

I immediately contacted the teacher and escorted my son back to school.  The teacher, our son, and I settled into classroom chairs.  The truth tumbled out.  She seemed taken aback and unsure how to respond.  I insisted that we'd rather have a child flunk than lie.  And so this son will likely earn a bad grade in that class.  If he's learned a lesson on truth, I'll proudly place a "My son is an honest C student" bummer sticker on my car.

One more thing....

I was pulled over by the police on quite possibly the busiest road in our suburb.  The reason for the stop was inconsequential and debatable.  Yet, the stigma of appearing to be engaged in criminal mischief was unavoidable.  This mama tried her darndest to recline low in her seat and pray the pastor, school principal or other fine folk didn't drive past.

The police stop in tandem with the forged signatures left me feeling like a disgrace to motherhood.  A good sense of humor, lots of prayers, and a healthy dose of chocolate has helped me survive the hiccups of the week.








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