hard to title a post that is going to be about your potty mouth. my thoughts were to simply entitle it "incoming!! dive, dive!!," but that would hardly capture the events of that evening. the rockets red glare? the f*bombs are a flyin'? did i say that? outloud? in front of other people? oh, perish the thought.
then i recalled what had brought me to the point of using such exclamatories that should nary a moment be uttered from the church lady's mouth - the temper inside known as *irish* and the brewing underneath for really other events could be likened to a volcanic eruption. yeah, that's pretty close to what it was. a series of unfortunate events brought out the underlying volcanic eruption that had tap-danced to the surface on so many near occasions, yet stayed below as a good eruption should. is that fair to say? what exactly did it feel like? how did this happen, i was doing so well?
well, suffice it to say that i can speak of it in polite company now that i have offered it up in confession, with a regret, remorse and a true desire to turn away from that sin also known as my explosive temper/captain potty mouth combo. now, the details.
you see, my hub and i went out for dinner last friday night and as we were on our way out the door, my daughter had her friend A over and a bunch of boys stopped to see my middle son max. okay, this is not the first time, the boys have been over before, but i said "nobody inside, say your hello's and then off with you because we are going to dinner." molly, being the fearful "mom's gonna embarrass me in front of all these people" daughter that she is, shooed us away into the car and reminded us we were going to be late for our reservations. hmm. i had that little warning flag come up inside me saying, "perhaps you should wait...or not go at all," but we proceeded and had a lovely time at dinner.
on the way home, some 1.5 hours later, i called on my cell (which was on the table for the expected call that never came, the one that says, "oh, i was just checking in on you, what are you having?" but the phone never rang. first time ever, i should have known something was amiss...) i said, "mol, is everything okay?" she sounded a little panicky and said "the boys aren't listening to me mom - they won't leave" - i said "tell them i said i don't want to see them on my porch when i get home," and that would be enough. and it was.
the minute we stepped into the house, molly's friend A said, "beavis pantsed me!"
(*for the sake of saving my fingers from overexertion, i will not be typing quotations from here on in...*)
i said what are you kidding me? and then the stories came out -- one of max's friends, 9th grader known as butthead, bigger than me, was joking around and tried to "strangle" A and she couldn't breathe (you will be proud to know my molly bit him through his coat to get him off her), and then when she had recovered from that this other funny guy pantsed her -- in front of all the boys in the neighborhood practically.
they call me because we are out of snacks, but they don't call me for extreme violations of one's rights.
so i asked my husband to call butthead's father, which he did but there was no answer and i said, feel liking knocking on beavis's door? he said no. i said okay, i guess i am on my own and out i stormed.
let us pause here to reflect for a moment, imagining my husband flying out after me because i could not be contained. let us also ask the question of *did penni pray first before she left in a rage?* the answer would be a resounding *no.*
beavis was not home. drove around to butthead's house and guess who we found? all ten of them. most on bikes, some just congregating. and i pulled up, motioned to beavis and butthead to move forward toward my car and proceeded to interrogate them.
i am uncertain as to what happened next, but i believe i threatened them with restraining orders after they both confessed their parts in the embarrassment of my daughter's best friend, after, of course, asking if they were both *f*ing crazy?. no, mrs. d, you are the one who is at the moment, tyvm.
the f*bombs were flying. i believe it was reported by my husband i said at least five. used emphatically, correctly in sentence structure (one of my main concerns, of course) and at the right time. i had the boys scared. oh, yes. very scared.
truth of the matter is, i wasn't sorry at the time of the bombing. nosirree, you hurt one of mine? oh, i don't think so. i get more offended if one of my kids has their feelings hurt than if you insult me to my face. i could care less what you think about me, it's none of my business -- but an 11 year old girl? and they thought it was funny? nope, not in my neighborhood, on my property. a fleeting thought i had when i was raging was i was really glad my oldest son wasn't home at the time. not only does he have an MORE explosive temper than mine, he uses his fists when he's angry. in fact, when i told him about it, he said "you know i would have been arrested." i said, "yes, i do." he said "would you have bailed me out?" i replied, "in a heartbeat."
of course, her parents were called and they got involved the next day - dad did - and that evening, the girls and i sat on the couch, watching elf as i knitted and talked intermittently about boundaries and violations thereof and good touch/bad touch, that sort of stuff. they were very comforted when we did that, but i will tell you, it will be a long while until we go to dinner again alone, w/out a sitter being home...
/ side note
not happy about my mouth; really struggled with my use of the vulgarities and gave it up in confession tonight before mass. only trouble with these "communal penance services" is that i was offered no words of wisdom, just absolved of my wrongdoing. i really want in my heart to be able to handle instances such as these with more dignity and grace, and i acknowledge that i blew it that time out. i am wondering if i wounded those boys with my language, my temper and my rage. were they floored? hurt? shamed? should i make rounds and apologize, or will that negate any ounce of credibility i have left?
how would you have handled this situation? i have been wanting to blog about it but could never put it into words because i am mortified over my actions. feeling better about confessing, but not feeling the grace that comes with confession. i guess i just needed to write.