Saturday, November 20, 2004

All Things Children

Thought this would be some sweet memory about my two sons, right? Wrong.

I was convinced years ago that both of my children would grow up to be politicians. They were, after all, masters at getting their way. They could convince the world that whatever they said was in fact, gospel. They would do things just to see the “pretty red color” that Mommy’s face would turn. And they used all kinds of methods too.

Like the time my oldest, then four, almost got me arrested. Oh yeah, sure did…want to trade lives? Hey, and I let him live after this incident too. Go figure.

You see, my Mother, my juvenile delinquent son, and moi visited a shopping mall far away from home, and in an area I wasn’t familiar with, just to set the scene. Earlier that week, we’d heard a child had been abducted from this same mall. So needless to say, I had a death hold on the little monst—ah…on my son. Your life can change in the blink of an eye. I let go of his hand for a fraction of a second and whoosh! He was gone. I turned around to grab his hand and--no son. I turned to Mother hoping she had him. We looked at each other and panicked. We started running between clothes racks, salespeople, and shoppers, all the while screaming his name. I was as close to a heart attack as I know I’ve ever been. My precious son! Someone had stolen my precious son! How could I live, how could I go o---“Ladies and gentleman, we have a small boy who says his name is Tommy. Would the Mommy who BEATS HIM BLACK AND BLUE please come to the Lost and Found?”

It crossed my mind to leave quickly and just pretend I’d never given birth, but I wasn’t carrying around those stretch marks in vain, no sir ree. I told Mother to follow me and she said, “No way! You’re on your own.” Benedict Arnold. When I arrived at the Lost and Found, there sat the Devil’s spawn himself, licking a sucker his new friends had given him and holding the hand of a “so not happy” official looking person. Down here we call them “Family Services.”

After three hours of intense interrogation, I was set free and gently, ohhhhhh so gently, I took my son’s hand and lead him out of the mall. Mother was waiting in the car reading her book and just smiled as we approached her. Once he was securely fastened in the backseat and I had calmed myself, I turned to the little heathen and started to let him have it when he said, “Mommy, what’s 911?” I decided to let that one go. Score one for the kid.


Anonymous Anonymous said... a scary kind of way of course (!!)....makes me think that it wasn't so bad after all NOT to have kids!


10:03 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

JJ, I can't believe it, the same thing happened to me with my oldest when he was that age, but he didn't go to security, he was just joyfully hiding inside of a clothes rack, thinking it was funny not to answer us. My MIL was there and made them lockdown the entire store!
Thanks for the trip down memory lane.

12:55 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Lie away. Puleeeease! Love these stories you tell, Georgia!

I've got my own "sonny dearest" tales. (Don't we all? PLEASE tell me we all do.) One time I thought my 18 month old was taking a nap (he's 21 now), so I decided to use the time to go outside and garden with my older kids in tow. Unbeknownst to me, the little critter never actually fell asleep. Instead, as soon as I walked out of the house, he must have crawled out of his crib, toddled down the stairs, opened the fridge, taken out a plastic squeeze bottle of Hershey's chocolate syrup, and proceeded to stand on a chair and put it in the mircrowave. He randomly pushed a bunch of buttons and ended up setting the time for ONE HOUR!!! Yes, one hour. At some point, I walked back inside the house--I'd probably only been outdoors 15 minutes--and found the little tyke sitting on top of the fridge. On TOP of the fridge. The bottle of chocolate syrup had exploded in the microwave, but he didn't know that. He was just waiting for the bell to go "ding." What an incredible mess. The plastic of the container had fused to the inside of the microwave. I couldn't afford to buy a new one, so I boiled a pot of water and spent the next hour, at least, re-melting the plastic so that I could unfuse it. Just one of my many kid stories. Ahhh, the joys of being a mom. Sure miss those days. (Ha!)

3:03 PM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Georgia, Brilliant as usual. I can't remember all that password and username stuff so I thought this is easiest. Continue with the great stories>

11:42 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...


Beautiful and funny, as usual! You know exactly where the tickle bone is and I can safely say, I've been tickled!


12:21 PM  
Blogger Heather Osterman said...

Queen JJ, you obviously struck a chord with this one! My own sad tale of mortification goes like this:

When my older son was 10 months old, he and I were riding a public bus together one summer day. We were near the back of a very crowded bus, reached our stop and I stood up to join the line of people shuffling down the aisle to pay. I held him in one arm and had his diaper bag and stroller in the other. The woman ahead of us, who was WAY too well endowed to be wearing the strapless tube top she had on, turned to say something to me. Big (pardon the expression) booboo. Lucas, who was sitting on my hip, reached forward, grabbed the top edge of her tube top with both hands and turned it into a belt for her.

Did you know people really can blush all the way down to their navels? It's true -- we all watched it happen.

At any rate, she grabbed her top and tried to pull it back up but he had his strong little baby fingers well anchored in the fabric and wouldn't let go for anything. The people in the bus were howling with laughter by now, to the point of holding each other up. My hands were full of baby and baby gear; there wasn't a single thing I could do to help her. I remember as clearly as if it were yesterday that, as completely horrified as I was, my feverish brain was CONVINCED there was some charming comment I could make to smooth the whole incident over. I opened my mouth and all that I could get out was, "Um, um, um, um...". (To this day, I still can't imagine what I thought was going to fix this.) They struggled very energetically for a minute (or maybe it was an hour) before she gave a really mighty yank, got it (mostly) back up, whirled and scampered off the bus. Let me tell you, I was right behind her every step of the way. She turned left onto the sidewalk, the kid and I went right, and I was a block away before I realized neither of us had paid -- and the driver hadn't asked! I flat out refused to ride that bus again for more than a year.

And, I might add, to this day my husband hasn't forgiven our now twenty-four year old son for picking a time he wasn't with us.

Children teach us the very depths to which humiliation can go, don't you think? The little stinkers.

3:12 PM  
Blogger Rhodi Alers de López said...

You're so funny! What a scary situation! Thank God it all turned out Ok, but kids can get us in a lot of trouble these days, huh? And adults... they abandon us when we need them the most...

If I were in a similar situation, there was no way my mom would go away and leave me "on my own". Glad you can laugh about it now!

7:52 AM  

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