Honesty Is Such a Lonely Word

Honesty is the best policy. I truly believe that. I am like Honest Abe Lincoln who, when confronted about chopping down the cherry tree, shouted “Give me liberty or give me death and I’m really sorry about the tree but Babe the Blue Ox told me to do it!”

Growing up, I may have kept things from my mother but I only really lied to her once.

I was 17 and wanted to go to this party that didn’t start until 10 p.m. I was certain she would never let me go. I called my sister and told her my dilemma and she advised me to tell mom the truth because “Mom always finds out”. I knew she was right so I told her that I would be honest with mom about the party.

My mom got home from work and, despite my intention to be honest, said, “Can I go to a midnight show at the mall with Lisa?” She said yes and I was elated. I left around 8 to go out to dinner before going to the “movie” and, while I was gone, my sister called and asked my mom if she had let me go to the party. My mom said, “What party?” and my fate was sealed.

I came home around 2:30 a.m. and everyone was asleep and I was thrilled that I had not been caught in my lie. I woke up late the next morning and there was a note on the kitchen table that said simply, “Call me at work”. I called and my mom said very calmly, “I know you lied to me last night.” I started to explain and she stopped me, “I don’t want an explanation. I just want to tell you that you are grounded and, since I’m going to the cabin this weekend, you’ll be going to your father’s house and I have already informed him that you are not allowed to go out while there. I will talk to you on Monday.”

And then she hung up.

I dutifully packed my bags and went to my father’s as instructed and I spent the weekend pouting.

I never lied to my mother again.

Given that I was, for the most part, an angel all through my childhood and adolescence I think the universe owes me. I should have been given the world’s most honest children. However, my children are sneaky little rats.

Over winter break, Miguel was heading to his room with his hands clenched in front of him and I yelled, “STOP RIGHT THERE!” He turned to me and said, “What?” I said, “What do you have in your hands?” He opened his hands and they were empty. He said, “What did you think I had?” I told him I thought he was smuggling candy to his room. He said, “Mom, if I wanted to sneak candy to my room, I would do it. When I was 8, I used to sneak candy to my room in my nut cup and you never figured it out.”

That’s right – my son admitted to smuggling candy in his jock strap. Not only is he a liar but he’s gross.