The Family Curse

Raising 3 young boys very close in age is no easy feat. Especially MY boys. Usually, you have all different personalities thrown in the mix. You have your quiet one, then you may have one that is more into reading then sports, but not me. Oh no. I had to have 3 boys that were fearless, loved watching wrestling, and considered my house to be a 24 hour wresting ring. I swear, my house was like coming home to World Wresting federation.

Justin, Corey and Benjamin. They were constant tangle of one monstrous boy consisting of noise and dirt. Never did you drop your guard, oh no, not for even for a second. Things happen when you drop your guard. Things like couches catching fire and 4 yr. old's taking car keys and driving into the car in front of yours. Or boys climbing trees in the backyard to get onto the neighbors roof of his house. Firetrucks are called and boys are rescued, you know, things like that. Boys are very curious as well, as I soon found out when ambulances, rescue trucks and the police department showed up at my house for no apparent reason.

I looked at my, then, six yr. old Benjamin. "Ben, why do you have the phone in your hand?" although I already knew the answer.

"I wanted to see how fast the ambulance would get here if I called 911", he said, in a tone that said, 'can't you see that'? "They got here in five minutes, mom!"

Yes, Benjamin, now do want to explain to the nice policeman why they had to come here? "Go to your room! I'll deal with YOU later!"

Wait a minute. What did I just say, and why did that sound familiar? I shook my head and dealt with the entourage outside.

Working third shift is no easy feat for a single mom. You come home, send the sitter home, and your left to deal with a 3 yr. old while trying to get a little shut eye. But three yr. old boys have their own agenda's. They have no need for sleep. So as I lay on the couch, my son sitting in front of the TV watching Power Rangers, I slowly start drifting into the cozy cloud of half-consciousness. Every now and then, I open my eye, see my son, and go back to my happy place again. I hear the Power Ranger theme song in my dream. "Mighty Morphin Power Rangers! Go, go Power Rangers!" and smile, opening one eye half way to see where Ben is.

Wait, something is wrong. Something is OFF. It doesn't quite look right. It looks so WHITE in here. With my eye lid feeling as though there's a 30 lb weight on it, I open it more. Yes, there is definitely something wrong here. I snap both eyes open, and scream. My son is standing there looking like Casper the Friendly Ghost, holding a very large bottle of baby powder. Only when he blinked did I see he was a real boy.

"Lookit, mommy, I have a lazer gun that shoots white smoke." he said, blinking puffs of powder.

I look around my living room, half in amazement that one little boy could do this, and half in disbelief that one little powder bottle could hold so much powder. It was on the walls, the curtains, inside of the VCR, and my black dog was now a polar bear. The dog whined a little puff of white.

"Benjamin Edward!" I yelled, coughing. "What did you do!" Oh, no, those words. Where have I heard them before?

Fast forward. We just moved into a brand new apartment. I even had use of a beautiful garage for my beat up Ford Horizon. My boys had a huge yard to play, and it was located on a pretty dead end street. I happily started unpacking, when the whole troop comes running up the stairs, and sit's quietly in the living room on the couch. My red flags go up. I walk into the living room and say calmly, "So, what's going on, boy?"

"Oh, nothing, mommy. We didn't break any windows or anything." my youngest says, getting an elbow in the ribs from his brother.

"Oh." I say calmly. "So, if I were to walk down those stairs right now, I wouldn't see any broken glass ANYWHERE, right boys?"

They look at each other, not quite sure how to answer. "Well," says the 7 yr. old. "by ACCIDENT, somehow, our ball just broke three windows, just like that."

"Oh," I said calmly. "Just like that? You do realize that balls need to be thrown, don't you? And that the only people I see right now that could have thrown that ball, are sitting on this couch right now."

"That's it! No toys, no TV, and NO video games for the rest of the week!" and then I said something that I SWORE I wouldn't say, EVER. I gave them the family curse. I said something to them that my mother said to me, and her mother said to her, all the way back to our ancestors.

"I hope you have kids JUST LIKE YOU SOMEDAY!" I stopped. I couldn't believe I'd said the words. I carried on the curse. I was JUST LIKE MY MOTHER!

Well, my youngest boy is grown and has a little boy of his own, now. My grandson, Gavin. He is the exact replica of his father in EVERY WAY. I smile secretly to myself because I know the curse lives on. 981 words