This is a Throwback Thursday post instead of a Thankful Thursday. I make the rules ya know!
I really don’t know what possessed me to do the following but I still get a laugh just thinking about it. My mother however, does not.
I do recall it being a school night, and I obviously did NOT want to go the next day. I wish I could remember why, I probably just wanted a 3 day weekend, or didn’t want to deal with Middle School drama. So, I hatched a plan. An amazing plan. A plan whose tales of success would be passed down from generation to generation as The Greatest Plan Ever. But, as some famous dude wrote, “the best laid plans of mice and men often go astray”. So here goes another humiliating story. Happy Memoir Monday!
I played the flute in Middle School, and the case for it had to be shoved very awkwardly into the top shelf of my locker. I literally could not reach this without having to physically stand on the bottom part of the raised locker, so to say the least it was a challenge to get to it. I told my mom that I was in a hurry to get everything out of my locker earlier that day, which is not a far stretch from the truth because we literally had 3 minutes between classes. I told her that in my hurried state of excitement about leaving school, I tried to grab the flute case, but it had slipped; hitting me square in the eye socket. For all of you who have the engine runnin’ but no one drivin’, this did not ACTUALLY happen…
Throughout the day I constantly complained about my eye, about how tender it was, making my mom became increasingly worried. I begged my mom that if in the morning I woke up with a black eye to PLEASE not make me go to school. She agreed. YES. Step one, conquered and very easily I might add. Then I waited.
Mom started getting my little brother ready for bed, and I knew this would take time. I took markers out of my Old Navy pencil bag and snuck into the bathroom. Ooooooh yes. I took the brown, blue, green and yellow markers and put the tiniest smudge of ink on my finger, then transferred it to the skin underneath my eye. I don’t want to toot my own horn, but it looked awesome. Putting the markers back into the bag, I tucked my little impromptu make up bag in the bathroom cabinet. Faking my best “OH CRAP” voice, I call my mom in a ‘state of panic’. I point out my ‘black eye’ and my mom looks on with a face of horrific agony and sympathy. She rules out school for the next day and caresses my poor little face, ensuring me that it would go away by Monday.
Mission freaking accomplished. I start waltzing my way towards bed, ‘whimpering’ along the way about my besmirched eye socket. “Micki, come back” – I freeze in my tracks. I don’t think she’s caught on. Composing myself, I go back to the bathroom, where Mom has a wet washcloth in hand. Her face still reads one of pity for me, and I know for a fact she does not yet know this is fake. She then says, “let’s clean off some of the dirt, and see how bad it is”. WHAT IN THE HELL. 5 ordinary senses my ass, I’m telling you this woman is a ninja. She’s genuinely worried, but this is a request I can’t really escape without looking like a fool. She wipes, her worrisome glance slowly melting into a confusing one then into anger. She had me.
From there the memory fades, but I can guarantee you I went to school the next day. I was probably spanked and grounded, and made the laughingstock of the house again. Please. Pulling one over on Ninja Mom? Yeah right. Micki 0, Mom 2. I wonder when I’m going to get this ninja mom sense… I sure as hell hope it’s hereditary.