Broken Curfew and Mama's Flip Flop

About the worst trouble I ever got into when I was younger was for breaking curfew.  Not sure what the attraction to that particular form of disobedience was, but it was my rebellion of choice.  Having the social butterfly personality that I do, ending a good time is not one of my strong suits.  I love for the laughter and jocularity to go on and on.  Who wants to be the one to break up the party?  Not me..which is probably why I had a hard time keeping curfew.  I didn't break curfew every time I went out.  There were a few times I was home on time and a few where I was actually early. It's one thing to break curfew and come through the door in the same method as when you left.  It's an entirely different thing when you break curfew and your mama comes looking for you!  Thus begins our tale of the day!

I had a friend from the middle school years; she and I were inseparable.  Where she was, I was there, too.  We were an odd pair.  She was tall and striking.  Crazy beautiful in what are supposed to be the awkward years.  Think a young Brooke Shields...that was my Hoots.  She was so cool.  Then there was me...the stereotypical chubby, short, funny best friend.  Unlike Hoots, I was in full possession of a complete supply of awkward. We were as thick as thieves and I remember being as happy as a pig in sunshine when we were together...which was as often as we could manage.  Of course there was the school day...we had several classes together.  We were in Scouts together.  We lived within blocks of each other.  We rode the same school bus.  We went to church together.  We went back and forth spending the night.  I guess you could say were were tangled up nicely.  We even had "boyfriends" who were best friends.  Ah, yes...the boyfriends.  (Insert MAJOR eye rollage.)

We were young and stupid.  We were!  We were 14...severely hormonally impaired...and had no business having boyfriends!  Seriously..."going with" a boy when you can't really GO anywhere without your parents' permission and/or assistance...that's a steaming, hot cup of crazy!  Oh, but I loved my boyfriend and she loved hers.  We had our lives planned out.  A double wedding.  Houses right next door to each other so our babies could grow up to be best friends.  Mind you, our plans didn't seem to include higher education or jobs.  But dreams are free and don't have to obey the rules of logic...which is why I'm an international runway stomping supermodel...at all of 63-inches...in my dreams.  I digress...excuse me!

There was an elementary school playground between my house and Hoots' house.  Our plan was to meet there and hang out...our mothers being aware of the plan and both of us having well communicated curfews.  What our mamas didn't know was that the boys were meeting us there.  Or we assumed they didn't know.  I sure wasn't sharing that little nugget with my mama and I'm pretty certain Hoots wasn't saying a word!  It was a beautiful evening...I remember that.  One of those gorgeous early summer nights that make you think of lemonade commercials.  Then the street lights came on...the signal that we needed to part company.  But, we didn't.  Dusk turned to dark and we kept right on doing what we were doing..talking, laughing, swinging, playing on the monkey bars. 

All of the sudden,  two voices pierced the night and stopped our fun, dead in its tracks.  The voices were yelling the same thing, "YANKEEBELLE AND HOOTS!  HOOTS AND YANKEEBELLE!"  It was our moms...together...in my mama's car..trolling around the park, looking for us! (And yes...they used our true names, but you get the idea.)  Remember, we were stupid, because if we had been smart, we'd have gone home when we were supposed to and our mothers wouldn't be out looking for us.  AND, and...we wouldn't have decided to run.  See????  I told you we were stupid!  The boys scattered like cowards; they knew what awaited us.  Eventually, we stopped running.  You know that old saying, "when Mama ain't happy, ain't no one happy?"  Well, mash that together with "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned" and you have the demeanor of our mamas.  We drove Hoots and her mama to their house.  A tearful good-bye was said.  Because it was summer break, the only time we would see each other was at church on Sundays.

By the time we got home, Mama was so furious she could hardly speak.  I knew I was in for it and I knew I deserved whatever I had coming.  And it came...via flip flop.  A heaping can of Whoop-Tail was opened and promptly distributed.  A very tearful daughter (and a very tearful mother)went to bed and hoped that the new day would make things all better.  And it did...new days always do.  Sunday rolled around...OH HAPPY DAY...a visit with my Hootsie.  Oh, yes...and church, too. 

Imagine our mutual surprise to find out that we both got our tails tore up with our mothers' flip flops!  What, was the paint store out of stir sticks?



Comments

  1. Such a sweet story about two people that still hold a very special corner of my heart. I have really been enjoying your blog, Ms. Bell. You are still as gifted as ever. It was my brother that once saved me from a wooden spoon wielding momma. Thank Heaven for little brothers!

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  2. Hmmm...a flip flop? I might keep that one in mind. Sometimes I can't find my paint stick, either. So thankful to never live those awkward years again!

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