Friday, December 9, 2011

And the Apple Doesn't Fall Too Far From the Tree...

Me in 1986--so friggin' cool...
I was gently reminded today how the apple doesn't fall too far from the tree.  The reminder came from an "anonymous" sender--from one of my Pittsville Peeps.  Ahh...Pittsville.  It's sometimes difficult to remember who I was as a teenager, growing up in a small town of 864.  Although I'm sure for those the Giarrusso clan terrorized those memories aren't as difficult.  Truth be told, my reputation was set in stone by my older siblings--mostly my wild and crazy brother who was never a rule follower.  By the time I made it into high school, there was already a designated spot in detention for the Giarrusso's.  I was doomed before my first day.  There are stories--oh there are stories--but most of which I don't seem to be able to recall.  The stories I remember, the detention time that came my way, was never due to malicious intent--rather, the mischievous side of me (along with a dose of humor) was just being recognized.  With these justifications in place, here's one of those detentions stories that I remember as though it were yesterday.

My partner in crime, Tracey (oh how I love you, girlie!), and I were always up to no good.  We both had 2nd hour off, and were always so bored.  What to do?  What to do?  On this particular day, not only were we bored but we were starving.  The only place to get any food in that place would be the Home Ec room.  There were no fast food restaurants nearby, or vending machines to drop any change into.  Besides, who had the money to spend?  Certainly not me.  I remember stealthily making our way into Mrs. H's classroom.  We were suppressing our laughter the entire time, going from cabinet to cabinet.  Much to our dismay, every single one of the cabinets were locked.  Crap!  Next to the Home Ec room was Mrs. S's classroom--with the sewing machines and all of that.  We were made our way in there trying to find a bobby pin or something of the like to pick the cabinet locks.  Luck was on our side!  Was it a bobby pin?  A pin of some sort?  Who knows--but we found something to pick the lock with.  My brother  had taught me to do so from an early age.  That's a whole other story...

I remember finally opening one of the cabinets up, where standing in all its glory was a HUGE can of blueberry pie mix.  We were young.  We were stupid.  We were hungry.  Our next problem to over come was finding a can opener and two spoons.  With the lord on our side, those finds came rather easy.  I remember sticking the can of blueberry pie mix under my purple Pittsville Panthers sweatshirt--Tracey had the utensils ready to go.  We tip-toed toward the bathroom, locking ourselves in one of the stalls.  Both of us perched our bodies on the toilet's tank, our feet resting comfortably on the toilet seat.  I held the can of blueberry pie mix, as Tracey maneuvered the opener around the lid.  Blueberries never tasted so good!  Spoonful after spoonful went into our mouths--with us too stupid to realize its effects.  I looked over at Trace and burst, again, into laughter.  Her entire mouth was covered in blue!  As was mine.  Our next class was Home Ec--where the teacher would soon be discovering the missing can of blueberry pie mix.

Thinking we still had a chance of not getting caught, we wrapped the container with paper towels and shoved it into Tracey's locker.  No amount of scrubbing would remove the blue stain from our teeth, and lips, and tongues.  The two of us made our way into class, trying not to laugh, with our heads hung low.  Not out of regret mind you.  Oh no.  We didn't want the teacher to see our faces.

The rest is history.  I don't remember getting caught.  I don't remember getting in trouble.  Although I must have.  Looking back at my stack (truth be told it's a huge stack) of detention slips from Pittsville High there is one that says 60 minutes for "Blueberries".

So while, as a parent, the calls from the school DO suck.  Having to punish my daughter DOES suck.   There ARE days when parenting puts me to the breaking point.  Despite all of this, I know that my children are going to become amazing adults--after all, their mom sure has!

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