It's my job as a mother to raise our children to know right from wrong. That includes teaching them not to make bonehead decisions without considering the long term consequences. As I used to so eloquently put it, get your head out of your butt and think over what you're about to do. Look beyond the nose on your face. Of course, these sage words of advice often fell upon deaf ears.
Boys being boys, we had many moments where it was clear our children gave absolutely no thought to the ramifications of their actions. It was all fun and games until the cops were called. There was the time the cops fished one son and his friends from their hiding place in a dumpster. And the time the police called at 2:00 a.m. to inform us our other son and his friends were handcuffed in the neighborhood park until we could come pick them up. Before you get the wrong idea, these run-ins with the law were the result of boyhood pranks and no serious crimes were committed but it always begged the question, "What the hell were they thinking?"
Even though both boys are now contributing members of society with no criminal records, I still find myself trying to imbue them with sound decision-making skills. For example, our oldest son recently informed us of plans for the 4th of July holiday weekend and instinctively I responded, "Don't do anything stupid to embarrass the family name." Words to live by.
I readily admit that I've done a lot of stupid things in my life and made a lot of really bad decisions. But it's innate in parents to strive for our children to be better than us and to not make the same mistakes we did. Does it often borderline on hypocritical? Yes. But are our motives pure? Most of the time.
So back to the "don't do anything stupid" advice I gave our son. Less than a week later I depart for Mexico to attend my girlfriends' wedding. I travel along with 40 other friends to an all-inclusive resort for a long weekend of fun in the sun.
The first four days are great! Everyone is having a fabulous time.
But on the fifth day, as my high school chemistry teacher Coach Bellipani used to say, "God was handing out brains, you thought he said rain, so you ran inside."
On the fifth day, we are hanging out at the "quiet pool" at the resort. Everything is pretty low key. Friends are laying under umbrellas reading books. Some are napping. Others are floating in the pool conversing with each other. I am on a lounge chair observing all this quiet time when an idea to shake things up pops into my brain. So with my head in my butt and not looking beyond the nose on my face, I make a split-second decision to cannonball my girlfriends floating in the pool. Hilarious, right? Wrong. It is a terrible idea to cannonball anyone in the shallow end of the pool. I can say that now with complete authority. And I know what you're thinking and the answer is no. Alcohol was not a factor.
I don't hit the bottom of the pool, but when I thrust my legs down to propel myself out of the water, I roll my right ankle in the most horrible way. It is the worst pain I've ever felt, short of childbirth. When I emerge somewhat victorious from the water, all I can say is, "I think I broke my freaking ankle!" (or something like that).
My friends, being the loving, sympathetic, kind friends that they are, die out laughing and immediately begin taking pictures. And you know what, I deserve it. But they also call a medic who turns out to be the silver lining to this vacation-ending cloud. He is the super cute!
So here I lie, week 3, pink cast, no weight bearing, no driving and my cat using my body as a pillow. Not the ending to my summer that I had envisioned.
As word gets around, my family members begin calling to check on me and get the story straight from the horse's mouth. As I explain the circumstances to my brother, I tell him about my ironic "don't do anything stupid and embarrass the family" admonition to my son. My brother dies out laughing and says, "Oh, Deborah. That ship sailed for you a long time ago!"
So back to the "don't do anything stupid" advice I gave our son. Less than a week later I depart for Mexico to attend my girlfriends' wedding. I travel along with 40 other friends to an all-inclusive resort for a long weekend of fun in the sun.
The first four days are great! Everyone is having a fabulous time.
But on the fifth day, as my high school chemistry teacher Coach Bellipani used to say, "God was handing out brains, you thought he said rain, so you ran inside."
On the fifth day, we are hanging out at the "quiet pool" at the resort. Everything is pretty low key. Friends are laying under umbrellas reading books. Some are napping. Others are floating in the pool conversing with each other. I am on a lounge chair observing all this quiet time when an idea to shake things up pops into my brain. So with my head in my butt and not looking beyond the nose on my face, I make a split-second decision to cannonball my girlfriends floating in the pool. Hilarious, right? Wrong. It is a terrible idea to cannonball anyone in the shallow end of the pool. I can say that now with complete authority. And I know what you're thinking and the answer is no. Alcohol was not a factor.
I don't hit the bottom of the pool, but when I thrust my legs down to propel myself out of the water, I roll my right ankle in the most horrible way. It is the worst pain I've ever felt, short of childbirth. When I emerge somewhat victorious from the water, all I can say is, "I think I broke my freaking ankle!" (or something like that).
My friends, being the loving, sympathetic, kind friends that they are, die out laughing and immediately begin taking pictures. And you know what, I deserve it. But they also call a medic who turns out to be the silver lining to this vacation-ending cloud. He is the super cute!
So here I lie, week 3, pink cast, no weight bearing, no driving and my cat using my body as a pillow. Not the ending to my summer that I had envisioned.
As word gets around, my family members begin calling to check on me and get the story straight from the horse's mouth. As I explain the circumstances to my brother, I tell him about my ironic "don't do anything stupid and embarrass the family" admonition to my son. My brother dies out laughing and says, "Oh, Deborah. That ship sailed for you a long time ago!"
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