funny kids stories – All About Becoming

Boys, Moms & Graffiti– A Story of Love

Right after our laughing fit about the Juvi Christmas Jammies, my cousin went on to tell me why this comment from Pete was more funny than we thought. She started telling us about him “tagging” the shed by the middle school while his dad was coaching his brother at football practice. We were cracking up listening to the story and I told her that she really needed to document this one. So the other day she did. It turned out to be much more tender than funny as I read through it. I asked her for permission to share it on my blog, because this is really what being a “good parent” is all about– taking the bad times with the good and knowing how to teach your children right from wrong, even when it is ripping you up inside.

I know. I’ve walked through the valley of Hell with a child of my own. But these are the moments that we truly teach our children how to step up and take responsibility for their life, to not blame things on others, and to just do the right thing even though it is hard.

I know you’ll love this story. Here’s my cousin’s post:

Not Our Finest Moment

Sometimes I get a tired of looking at blog’s and seeing all the perfect things that are going on in other people’s lives, perfect trips, perfect parties, perfect Halloween costumes, perfect Christmas, perfect perfect, perfect…. Usually that is how my blog looks, I don’t really want to remember the poop all over my floor from a sick child, or the not so perfect report card, or that my child isn’t the best at sharing. I could go on and on here… I like the rest of the blog-world sugar coat our lives. It could appear that our family runs very smooth, we do have a few deaths once in a while but other than that, we go from one party to the next sporting event all singing and laughing as we go. Ha! 😉 Well I think it’s time to get real, our lives are NOT like that, we have our struggles along with all the fun stuff. This day back in September was not our finest moment!Pete will kill me if he knew I put this on here, so if by chance you see him, DO NOT bring this up! He feels super bad about the whole deal but for the sake of our family history it’s gotta be here. So if you are reading this, I trust you not to tell him. :)One morning in September while I was driving the boys to school Pete asked me “Mom what happens if you spray paint on a building?

I said “Well that is Graffiti and you could go to Juvenile Detention or Jail?”

He looks at me with big eyes and says “Really??”

I say “Yes, that is defacing someones property and it is a crime? Why are you asking me this?”

“Well… last night while I was at L’s practice, I found a can of spray paint and put a little bit on the shed behind the Middle School?” He replies.

Thinking it was just a line or a dot or something, I said “Well you have to go to school right now, and I am sure it isn’t a lot, we will have to go over after school and see it.”

Pete got out of the car reluctantly and walked to class. After school we drove down to the middle school. On the way Pete asked “Mom if I go to “Juvi” (he calls Juvenile Detention, “Juvi.” His Grandma works at the court and he has picked up on few things! ;)) will you bail me out?”

I told him “In this family we will never bail you out of your problem, you have to pay the consequence to your action.”

He looked at me and said with a quiver “Will you come visit me everyday??”I was dying, he was really nervous, and I wasn’t. I didn’t think he would really draw all over a building with spray paint. I was expecting a little dot, or something we could scrub off rather quickly. When we pulled up this is what I saw….

I about lost it. This wasn’t a little line or just a little bit of spray paint. This was a work of art!! An SC with the Warrior Head and then the word Warriors was started, but then I am sure he got distracted. We had to go into the school and let the Vice Principal know, this part was really hard. Pete was crying so hard, and because he was I started tearing up too. We talked to him for awhile, he let Pete know that the cops at the school had already seen it, and talked about it. He told him if he was older and knew what he was doing he could be in a lot of trouble. At this point Pete was sobbing. I felt so bad for him. We told the VP Pete would clean it up, but he said the custodian had a chemical that would take it off and not to worry. Pete left there feeling relieved, he thought a week of being grounded was a lot better than spending a few nights in Juvenile Detention. It turned out to be a good learning experience for all of us. He now knows if he finds spray paint, let me know and I’ll get him some paper or something to paint on, he won’t be using a building as his canvas anytime soon!

I’m not sure I read the fine print when I decided to become a Mother, I thought it was all about changing their clothes and going to the park. Being a parent is HARD, I learned that this day. I also learned that I can’t bail my kids out of their problems, but I will be right by their side walking through the fire with them. I love my kids so much and hope I can teach them right from wrong even if that mean learning a few things the hard way.

Best Christmas Jammies Story Ever

Like many of you, we have a tradition of opening matching jammies on Christmas Eve. We try to match the adults and kids as close as possible, but some years it’s harder to do. This last Christmas, my mom and sister found some cute Christmas stripped pajamas for the little kids. We thought they looked darling!

This is a picture of my granddaughters and my sisters three boys. (It’s really hard to get a picture of them all sitting still.)

Christmas morning, as I came into Grandma F’s house, my cousin was just laughing. I guess the little boys above came in and her 7 year old son, “Pete”, said,

“Where’ve you guys been? JUVI?”

[Juvi is short for Juvenile Detention.]

We could not stop laughing.

I hadn’t thought that these cute Christmas Candy Cane pajamas looked like jail attire, but alas, a 7 year old taught me different.

Now many of you may be wondering how a 7 year old knows about Juvenile Detention. It is because his grandmother works at the Juvenile Court, so he’s familiar with the stories and terms. Still funny coming from a little guy!

Is this what Santa puts his elves in that are in trouble? ;o)

For more insight into Pete’s knowledge of Juvi, I suggest you read this great story by his mom which I have posted HERE.

Granddaughter’s Day at the Dentist

I received a call the other day from my daughter. The conversation went something like this:

“Mom?”

“Yeah?”

“You need to talk to your granddaughter! We’re at the dentist and she’s pitching a fit and I need you to calm her down.”

“Ok….” I said, chuckling to myself.

“I’m liking this role…” I think in my mind.

Princess P gets on the phone….

“Hey sweetie!! How are you? Are you having a great day?” I ask.

I heard some low grumbles on the other end.

“Have you been playing with your baby dolls?…..”

“My mom’s in TROUBLE!”

“You’re mom’s in trouble? How come?” (I’m trying not to laugh too hard.)

“She’s fighting me!!””

I start cracking up and my daughter says, “we have to go. They’re here.”

Still laughing over that conversation.

Grocery Store Saga– guns and jerky

Can any of you actually stand to read another round of “As the Webster’s Turn?” Some days I think I am on this merry-go-round that won’t quit and I just want to yell, “STOP THE WORLD! I NEED TO GET OFF!” Maybe if I hollered “OR I’M GOING TO PUKE!” someone would listen…..but here I still sit with 5 – six foot tall mounds of laundry, and the only thing that loves me enough to cling to me is cellulite and a three year old! And since I am so full of “love” (read—cellulite) right now my mid-life crisis body and I would like to share our week with you!

Monday—I can hear all of you saying right now “cleaned the house.” And you are right!!! However, I did go to the grocery store, too. My record is getting better, too! I almost got OUT of the store with out the two littles causing a major ruckus. I was in the check out line!!! Almost out of the store!!! BJ Dude was being good and helping me unload the food. He was holding jerky in his hand that was his “treat” for being good in the store. Cinco’s treat had already gone through and he started to panic that BJ Dude wasn’t going to put his jerky on the belt, so he grabbed the jerky out of BJ Dude’s hand to put in on the counter when BJ Dude all but tackled him and choked him to get it back. So Cinco took the $1 plastic machine gun that was his “treat” and whacked BJ Dude over the head with it—all the while screaming at each other.

Fortunately, only two or three checkers, two or three baggers, and the people behind me in the checkout line noticed and commented on the event—that was after their oooh’s and ooooo’s and oowww’s.

This particular moment is the double-edged sword of motherdom! You don’t know if you’re with the “that kid needs a good spanking” group or the “if she lays a hand on that kid I’m calling Social Services” group.

It’s at those precious moments that you feel like there’s a big neon light over your head with an arrow pointing down at you flashing in hot pink neon “BAD MOM!”

Resisting the urge to jerk them both up by the seat of their pants and kick their little butts through the door for embarrassing me like that, I grabbed Cinco firmly by the arm and with that clenched teeth smile “whispered” something to the effect that he was a dead man when we got home. I tried to rub BJ Dude’s head and get that stupid jerky scanned and run out of the store. I kept waiting for the announcement over the intercom “Code Black and Blue on checkout 5!” Of course, the bagger was an older man who was so kind to help me all the way to the car. (The young kids never want to help.) He did offer some kind of words but I was caught between sheer anger and embarrassment.

I ranted and raved all the way home in the car. Trying to explain to a three year old how much trouble he’s in is not very effective, in case any of you were wondering. By the time I got home and was going to throw Cinco’s fanny in his room. He kept saying, “but I told BJ Dude I was sorry.” (Which he actually did while I was ranting in the car) And, of course, BJ Dude had accepted the apology. These two had resolved the problem before I entered the driveway.

Which is the second problem of motherdom—do you throw them in their room or melt like a popsicle because they were so nice to each other for 5 minutes? There are just no books on these kinds of scenarios. I think I still made Cinco have a little room time, but it’s true, I’m a marshmallow. Plus I had all those groceries to unload. Written 1/18/04