Booger Eatin' Spaz

Okay, that is a line from the original Bad News Bears.  Many a baseball coach has said that Grant looks just like that kid in the movie who says that particular line.  Long, kind of shaggy blonde hair, small stature, etc.  But I digress.  

I got a phone call yesterday.  Yesterday, riding my personal high of my wonderful eleven year old, going on retreat, reading his bible and getting closer to God.  Yes, I am a great mom, look, I need a ribbon for great momness.  Then the phone rings.  Grant apparently sprayed his Capri Sun in the face of one of our neighborhood girls.  Perfect.  Of course, she is one of Tatum's best friends, we cannot just let this go, they see each other all the time.  This is not the first time these two have gone a couple of rounds.  They pick on each other, call each other "weird" and "annoying".  But, Grant has pushed the envelope and sprayed her on the bus.  Her reaction was to slap him, so he kept spraying her, and she kept slapping.  Now Scott and I have to go over with Grant and have a sit down and all of us have to talk together about respect and all that.  

I believe firmly in the sitting down with the kids, because the truth comes out and no one is perfectly innocent.  Girls do have an advantage because they will cry at this point, boys stand firm, no facial expression.  Parents sort it all out, and Grant ends up grounded, again.

I am not excusing his behavior, you cannot spray girls in the face with juice.  It's rude and obnoxious and I strive on a daily basis not to raise obnoxious kids.  That being said, there is something about the time between the end of fifth grade and the beginning of eighth grade that is just nasty from a parent's point of view.  Girls don't know if they like boys, boys don't know if they like girls.  They pick on each other, they razz each other, it is a never ending cycle until they figure out they are attracted to those weird creatures.  Boys and girls.  Ask any teacher who has taught those grades, horrible.  The teasing is merciless and if not controlled escalates to being sprayed in the face on the bus.  Not fun.  

Take a minute, remember those years, horrible.  My hair was greasy, pimples starting to show up, not sure how to put on make-up.  I secretly loved Alex Chucari (sp? it has been over thirty years now).  I would steal his comb out of his pocket.  Remember those big combs from the seventies, every boy had one in his back pocket, and we all stole them.  And this was at Catholic School, Queen of Peace in Mesa, Az.  And my mom was a teacher there for cripes sake.  Oh the horror.

If your kids are young yet, embrace the cuteness.  If you have survived this time in your child's life, I believe it only gets worse in different ways when they hit high school, but in wildly weirder ways.  

Motherhood is not for the faint at heart.  Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition.

God bless you and yours.