Stories from a Middle-Class Mama

I have no idea what I'm doing. Really. As a parent, I'm clueless. I like to think I have it all figured out, but in reality, all I do is guess and pray. My education and subsequent years in education never prepared me for my own children and their antics.

When my middle child was in kindergarten, 13 years ago, she threatened to beat a little boy’s a$$. I kid you not. She said it just like that – at full volume – in front of God and everybody in her classroom. If this had happened in this day and time she’d have been given a threat assessment. Fortunately, the teacher called down to my office (instead of the principal’s-whew!) and I handled it the best way I knew how, in the lounge bathroom, where other children were unable to hear the smack of my hand on little bare legs and the wails and cries of terror that followed. Ahhhh, happy times!

My youngest, now 15, decided it would be a good idea to trim her eyelashes in her second-grade classroom. She cut them completely off; she said they were too long. Her teacher was mortified and extremely apologetic and is to this day. She hasn’t cut them anymore, but does enjoy trimming and shaping her own hair and wigs, and I gladly allow her to do so. She may be cutting and styling my hair or wigs one day.

My oldest, when in middle school, wanted to show her friends how high she could kick her leg. She decided the best time to demonstrate would be outside, during gym. Well, she’s no Rockette, and as she went for the high kick, her shoe flew off of her foot and on to the top of the school building during her performance. It was retrieved later that day by a custodian. I have no idea how long she had to go shoeless. That, to me, was enough punishment and humiliation; I needn’t add more.

These are little funnies, no doubt, and I reminisce on them fondly.

These days, my home is less bustling with stories like this. My oldest has moved out on her own and works in town for a family practice. My middle one is in her freshman year of college and lives five hours away. In case you’re wondering, she hasn’t been home to visit yet. My youngest is a sophomore in high school and when at home, she’s either in her room on her devices chatting and laughing with friends or she’s sleeping. I have reminded myself time and again that I didn't have children to hoard, but there is a little part of me that would still like for them to all be home, filling the air with argument and laughter.

Do you have a funny story about yourself or your children? If so, reach out. I will be happy to share them in future editions on the sMeet blog.

Author: Journalist ƒєммє