I remember the day as if it was yesterday. My mother bought me some new white socks. They were knee-highs and I believe she intended for me to wear them to church. She made such a big thing about them you would have thought they cost a million dollars.
We were not poor. I am not sure why she placed such importance on this item, maybe because they were white.
As a young girl my favorite thing to do on the farm was to go outside in the summer time. I would make mud pies out in the yard. I would play in the garage in my play house which would always contain a collection of wasps and flies, as well as dust and dirt. Other days I would romp around with my brother, playing football and faking claustrophobia when he tackled me.
It didn’t take long for those new socks to find themselves on my feet and my feet to be running outside to play.
As luck would have it my Dad was painting something on the yard. He was painting that something with John Deere green paint.
He asked me if I wanted to try painting and then gave me a brush and some paint. He told me I could paint a bit on the concrete in front of the shed he was working on.
So I grabbed that brush, stuck it in the paint and started to transform the concrete into a bright green. It was but a minute when I noticed that I was effectively not only painting the concrete but I was also splattering that grass green paint on my new white socks.
I was horrified. My mother was not one to take things such as this lightly. I knew I would be screamed at.
What was I to do?
First, I tried to eliminate the evidence. I scurried inside and tried to wash out the green, having no such luck, I resorted to plan B. I would hide the socks in my closet.
That I did, the wet green and white socks were crumpled up in a ball and hid on a shelf in my closet.
They stayed there for quite some time until my mother smelled something off in my closet. (blast it, I didn’t think of mildew ruining my plan B) She pulled the socks from their hiding place and asked me very kindly about the blob.
I, of course, feigned complete ignorance as to what the blob was and told a “white” lie.
It was wrong of me to do so and I did feel guilty.
As an adult I understand the reason for my lie. My mother had always given the impression to me that things were much more important to her than my feelings.
If, as a child, I had known that my mother loved me more than those white socks, I would have been truthful. I would have known that although there would be a talk about keeping things clean this talk would have been followed by a hug and affirmation of my worth as a child.
Children lie when they are fearful of the truth hurting them. If a parent understands this dynamic they will make the environment for the child one of comfort when confronting them.
It is difficult, if not impossible, to lie in the presence of unconditional love.
Gracie, on this night, 27 years ago I met my x on her 21st birthday. I am telling you, we had more fun for the first 10 years of our relationship than should be legal And then the evil one poked his head into our lives and ruined it just as he has ruined every life he has ever come in contact with.
So today, is bitter sweet.
From the comments you have entered I think the fun you have had is within possibility for all of your relationships. Apparently you are a pretty great chap to spend time with. 🙂
Thank you Gracie, that is very sweet of you to say. I always try to be authentic. Like me don’t like me, I am who I am who I am. The sooner two people can just be themselves, their authentic selves, the sooner they can “chillax” around each other and have fun.
🙂
Heay Gracie, What’s up. If my daughter would have done something as horrid as staining some new white socks I would have been on the floor laughing. As a matter of fact we both would have been I would have said something like, ah ha, proof that you are a child. Even today when I go into her room, gently stepping over dirty clothes that somehow just can make it to the hamper, shoes, whatever, i look at her and exclaim, “this room looks like some teenage girls room it is such a mess” And then say, oh, that’s right you are a teenage girl, what was I thinking?
Now my best lie story. And it is a good one. It taught me to always tell the truth and take the consequences rather than lie.
I am 15 years old. My buddy asks if I want to go skiing out at Eagle Mountain Lake. I am like sure, who else is going to be there? I was gong to be in 10th grade and there were going to be 2 girls on the boat that were going to be in 11th, in bikinis no less. Hard to pass on that one when you are 15. So I ask my parents if I can go. And they say sure, sounds like fun, who is going to be driving the boat? I tell them my friends will be. And they say, “what adult is going to be there?” And I say, “its just me and my friends” And they say, ” No adult, no lake trip” Oh what a bummer, especially when those girls were going to be on the boat in bikinis.
So I hatch a plan to ride my bike to the club to go play tennis and hang out by the pool, but my friend will pick me up there and then we will go to the lake. And that is exactly what I did. That was routine back in the day. However, while I was off at the lake, my parents were looking for me at the club, but I was nowhere to be found.
My buddy drops me off at the club and I ride my bike home. At the time I had lots of hair and when I got home it was obviously LAKE HAIR. To say the least, I was busted and grounded.
The next weekend, my buddy calls again, ” want to go to the lake again?” Great, same plan as last week. Anyway, same as last week but this time when I get home my mom is furious. And my dad is mowing the lawn which I was supposed to be doing that weekend. I casually ask my mom, ” why is dad mowing the lawn” and tells me ” So he won’t kill you!!!” She actually used those words. I of course was sent to my room to think about what I had done.
On a side note, for whatever reason I had fashioned a paddle out of a boat paddle. Drilled holes in it, painted it, and hung it on my wall. Don’t ask me why, I was young and dumb. So my dad comes back to my room, and tells me that herand my mother can never believe a word I say now that I have betrayed them so horribly. The lesson was that after you lie once, how can anyone ever believe a word that comes out of your mouth. There was no yelling or raised voices in my house, not allowed.
The first time I did it they talked to me and tried to get the lesson into my head through my ears. The second time my dad packed that lesson into a little tiny ball and sent it up to my head through a different part my my body with that paddle hanging on the wall. It worked the second time. From that day forward I never lied to my parents ever again.
Sounds like you learned a good lesson. 🙂