Grounded For Life

“Jeaux!”

“Jeaux!”

I heard my dad yellin’ for me from downstairs. He didn’t sound happy. In fact, he sounded down right perturbed. Well, I was perturbed too.

I was grounded.

Oh yeah. That’s right - a grown woman, grounded by her mommy and daddy for going out of town. Sure I left without word, missed the holidays, and had them worried out of their minds…but grounded?

I pretty much slept the entire first day I had been home. Listening to their lectures not only had killed my love buzz, but was exhaustin’ in of itself. Once they put the hammer down (grounded me like a five year old I mean) I was pretty much done listenin’ and had gone to bed to sleep off the weekend.

The second day, my mother had me cleanin’ and reorganizin’ closets. On the third day, my father woke me up bright ‘n early with a shovel in one hand and a bag of mulch waitin’ for me in the backyard.

After that – well before that…but after that for sure – I was pretty much done with the whole groundin’ thing.
First, Mom’s favorite spatula suddenly went missin’. Then, it was dad’s shovel. How it found its way into the neighbor’s backyard, I just swear I’ll never know.

Mom, of course found her spatula. There wasn’t an inch of the house she didn’t know about, and I knew she’d find it eventually. But it sure was fun watchin’ her look for it.

“Jeaux!” Dad yelled again. “Where is the remote control?”

“Couldn’t tell ya dad!” I yelled back not botherin’ to go help him look. I mean, of course I knew where it was. I hid it. Duh.

They were on to me. I hadn’t planned to be a menace. The opportunity merely fell right into my lap. But once I’d started my little game, I found it difficult to stop. If they were gonna keep me cooped up in the house like a juvenile delinquent, then I was gonna act as childish as possible. We’d see who drove who crazy first.

“Jeaux, don’t toy with me young lady. Where is the remote control? I know you know where it is.”

Standin’ in my doorway, he tried to look as intimidatin’ as possible (which had always seemed to work in his favor in the past) but I was unmoved.

“Sorry dad. I really don’t know.”

“Dammit Jeaux, quit playing these games. The playoffs start in five minutes, and I can’t turn on that new TV without my damn remote!”

Dutifully, I followed my dad down the stairs, but damned if I was gonna help him tear apart the house to find the remote when I knew right where it was. That would just be silly.

Mom stood in the kitchen, stirrin’ a pitcher of tea, shakin’ her head at me as we walked by. I knew what she was thinkin’. That she was gonna win this game. But I knew she was on the edge. If it’s one thing my mother cannot stand, it’s a house out of order.

As my dad started his search again, flippin’ couch cushions and gettin’ on all fours to look under the furniture, he continued to yell at me to help him.

“Aw, Dad you look like you’ve got it all under control. Your pants could use the assistance of a belt though. Come on, plumber crack!”

“Girl, you are really pushin’ it you know that?”

“What are you gonna do? Ground me?”

The second it flew from my mouth, I regretted it. By the look on my dad’s face, I was right to. Luckily, his wrath was stopped short by the coughin’ and sputterin’ from the kitchen, followed by my mother’s shrill voice shoutin’ my name.

“Jeaux! Did you put salt in the sugar canister? Jeaux!”

Peekin’ my head around the corner, tryin’ my best to plaster a look of pure innocence on my face, I replied, “No Mommy I have no idea how that happened.”

Then another interruption. From the living room, it appeared as though Dad had finally found his beloved remote control as a triumphant “Ah-ha!” resounded through the room. My mother only continued to glare at me as she poured the fresh pitcher of salty tea down the sink.

“Goddammit Jeaux! Where are the batteries? No more games girl! Where are the damn batteries?”

“Sorry dad, couldn’t tell ya.”

“Okay! Enough. Enough of this,” my mother shouted, wipin’ her hands on her apron as she emerged from the kitchen. “Jeaux. You tell your father where the batteries are right now. You stop turning my home into some kind of a circus. You will not force your father to resort to taking the Lord’s name in vain. Not in my house.”

“Gotta entertain myself somehow don’t I? You got me locked up in here like a kid on a leash. Do you have any idea how hard that is for me?”

“And do you have any idea how worried we were about you? We are not just going to let that slide young lady.”

“Young lady? I’m a grown woman Mom. Look. See? All grown up. I’m sorry I didn’t call you. I’ve told you that a million times already. What else do you want? You can’t ground me like a child.”

“As long as you live under my roof…”

“Like I have a choice! Don’t you think if I could live on my own I would? But I can’t. But that doesn’t give you guys the right to treat me like a kid for the rest of my life!”

Like I couldn’t fathom bein’ reliant on my parents for the entirety of my adult life, I think they still forgot just exactly why I had yet to move out. And even further, forgot just how long I might have to stay.

“You’re right.”

“I’m sorry, I’m quite certain I’m hallucinatin’, because I swear I thought I just heard you say I was right.”

“You’re not right enough to deserve an instant replay. You heard me,” my father smirked. “Look, we’re not tryin’ to control you. We both know there’s no doing that. We just…it’s hard to break the mold hunny. We’re still your parents.”

“Just go Jeaux. Go find Kevin. I’m just up to here,” my mother sighed, her hand swayin’ above her head to show just how high her limits had been tested. “You can’t be told anything, you can’t be respectful of our wishes, you can’t help but play games and do your very best to drive everyone around you crazy. So just go Jeaux. Consider your grounding officially revoked.”

I didn’t hesitate. Grabbin’ my purse, I bounded for the door before they changed their minds again, and figured lockin’ me in my room would be the best route after all.

It wasn’t until I was halfway to Kevin’s house that my mother’s words started to sink in. I don’t do well with guilt. It creeps in on my like the mornin’ fog, and before long, I’m blinded by it, cloaked in it, swimmin’ in the heavy curtain of grey grief my mother can deftly deliver like a tranquilizer dart. You may not even know at first that you’ve been hit. You think you won. Then you start feelin’ your knees wobble. Your spine suddenly seems too weak to carry the weight. And that’s when you realize…you’ve been got.

Sometimes even my impulses get confused. In those moments when I can literally hear my ego and id arguin’ in my head, I feel like my feet are tryin’ their damndest to find the next step in some ridiculous dance. I step side to side or front to back in short hops, not sure which foot to take, which voice to follow, which impulse to accept.

But eventually, one wins. Never know which it’ll be…but it happens every time. I find my footing. I go along.

So I turned around.

I walked back up my sidewalk, back into my house, straight past my parents on the couch, into my room, and locked the door.

And let the grounding continue.