Mom grounded me for a month one time a few months after Dad died. Mom had invited Stan Smith, Dad's former co-worker at Banquet Foods, over for dinner. Stan was a bi-vocational Baptist Preacher; meaning that he worked a full time job in addition to his work at the church. While preparing for his arrival, Mom issued us (probably just me) a very stern warning that we were not to laugh when she asked Stan to pray before dinner.
Although my family prays before every meal now; it was unheard of in our household when I was growing up. In fact, the only thing resembling a prayer that was ever said at our table was if Dad threw out a, "Good food, good meat, good God, let's eat," line before we all devoured whatever Mom had put on the table.
Nevertheless, Mom asked Stan to say the blessing before we ate as if it was commonplace at our table. I was sitting on one side of the table - trapped between Kim and Beth, as I recall - as we all dutifully bowed our heads for the blessing.
Now I'm not exactly sure what Mom was thinking when she threatened me with death if I laughed during the prayer, but that was probably not the best thing to say to a thirteen year old boy. The only thought that kept going through my head as Stan prayed was, "Don't laugh...don't laugh...don't laugh," which, of course, is guaranteed to make a thirteen year old boy start laughing.
I did a masterful job of hiding my laughter for a while. I didn't make a sound. Kim and Beth, however, noticed my body quivering as I fought to keep my laughter hidden and took that as an opportunity to start kicking me under the table. How kicking me was supposed to do anything to suppress my laughter remains a mystery to me. All it did was cause me to start snorting as I fought to control my laughter which, of course, led Kim and Beth to kick me even more. This began a vicious cycle of me laughing and Kim and Beth kicking me.
Mom was mortified! She apologized profusely and forced me to do the same. In retrospect, I don't think Stan was offended. Despite the act Mom made us all put on for the blessing, I'm sure he was well aware of our family's normal prayer life. He did, after all, spend five days a week with Dad.
In any case, Mom informed me that I was grounded for one month before Stan's car was even out of our driveway.
One Month?!?!?!
For one month; I would have to go straight to my room when I got home from school and stay there until Mom called me out for dinner. I was not allowed to hang out with Ron, go fishing, ride my bike or do any of the other things kids my age did.
That's cruel and unusual punishment!!!!
Debbie was living with Nana and Papa during the week so she could finish her senior year of high school at St. Elizabeth's Academy. It took me a whopping two days to figure out that Kim and Beth were totally oblivious to me once I closed the door to my room. Oblivious to the point that it was if I didn't exist. I'm sure they were thrilled not to be bothered with my presence. As a result, no one came by my room or checked on me at all. It was like my room was a toxic waste site. Well I suppose it was rather toxic, but that's beside the point.
So I did what any industrious thirteen year old boy would do under the circumstances; I came home from school, went to my room, closed my door, opened my window, climbed out the window and went about my afternoon normally. The only issue the whole grounding presented was that I was delayed in meeting up with my friends for about ten minutes while I went through this routine each afternoon.
I carefully watched the time in order to be safely back in my room before Mom's car reached the subdivision so she couldn't catch me out and about. At the appointed time, I headed back to our house and, careful to approach from the west so I didn't have to walk past Beth's window, I climbed back through the window into my room, grabbed a book and sat down on my bed to read until Mom got home and "released" me from my punishment for the evening.
This went on for the entire month. I don't know if Kim or Beth ever figured out what was going on and just ignored it because I was out of their hair for an entire month or if they remained blissfully ignorant of my departure each day. I suspect it was the former because I'm sure they would have been delighted to have reported my violation of both the letter and spirit of the law. Of course, they may have just chosen to ignore it; figuring that Mom might ask them to actually pay attention to me if they reported my activities to her.
I eventually confessed my deeds to Mom; although not until I was married and out of the house, if I recall correctly. Her anger at my laughter had long since disappeared and my confession was met with much laughter of her own.
It was, after all, just one more incident in a very long string of her learning to deal with a teenage son and her teenage son learning to deal with a house full of women.
I think I'm still tainted from growing up in a house full of women...
No comments:
Post a Comment