I'm not sure if this is appropriate blogging material, but I'm going to divulge anyway, because sometimes a mother just needs to rant.
A couple of weeks ago, one of my little dears got into a name calling match at school (he claims he was just defending one of his buddies). Consequently, a phone call was made to me by his teacher. Apparently, Carter had been one of many who had participated, and his supposed word of choice was "hugger" (at least according to him). Mother's intuition tells me that there was probably a "butt" or "weenie" or some other lude body part preceding said word, but he insists he only called his classmate a "hugger", a plain, old "hugger". Chad and I explained that coming to the verbal defense of a friend, though noble, was not the appropriate measure and that the next time a friend is in trouble he should immediately find an adult. Oh, we also told him to delete all unsavory words from his memory, pronto. He was sentenced to a week and a half of grounding and Chad and I thought we had nipped the issue in the bud.
Fastforeword now to yesterday. Mind you, it is the sabbath. I am standing in front of the entire relief society singing a song with a group of sisters. I see the relief society door open a crack and curiously watch as the lone eyeball scans the room and finally rests on me. My mother's intuition immediately tells me that there has been an incident. What kind of incident I don't know. I try to finish the remainder of the song as calmly as I can, all the while my mind picturing one my kids bleeding profusley out in the hall. I do a mental check of the all the kids and their whereabouts (let's see, Quinn was with me. I could see her sitting quietly on the front row. Chad had taken Beckham home for a nap. Avery was in class and Carter...Carter. Oh crap, Carter). My mind immediatley reverted back to the previous school experience and I knew...this was no medical emergency.
The song ended and I braced myself for the disaster awaiting me outside in the hall. I opened the door and was immediately swarmed by members of the primary presidency. My intuition had been correct. In a nutshell, Carter had been singing along to a familiar primary song and decided to take the musical liberty of adding a little of "his flava". By that I mean, throwing in a choice word that had never before graced the lyrics. I told the presidency the issue would be dealt with later...in the privacy of our home...where the full wrath of mom could be unleashed.
Fortunately, for Carter, I had about twenty minutes to cool off before heading home to deal with the issue. And I'm not gonna lie, I made it very clear to Carter that if I ever had to deal with this issue again...ever, I would make his life a living you know what. But I said it ever so calmly and lovingly. He was sentenced to yet another weeks grounding in addition to some hard labor, which I intend on taking full advantage of.
Why do I share this very private, not-so-proud moment you may wonder? Well, I guess my purpose in sharing this experience is one of warning (for you mother's with young kids...see what you have to look forward to. Oh yes, it can happen to you. Somehow, somewhere your child will pick up one of these flavorful words and will test it out, most likely in front of the bishop or some other prominent acquaintance). My purpose is also one of inquiry (for you mother's with experience...please, please tell me it gets easier-even though my intuition tells me it probably doesn't. And if it doesn't, tell me then the secret to dealing with it).
Any and all pertinent advice welcome. Also, stay tuned, mother's intuition tells me there may be a sequal.