November 2006. My first day at home with CJ.

On his  first day of kindergarten,  I walked CJ to his classroom. All of the parents were lined up against the wall admiring their little humans getting situated and finding their seats. Every single parent in the classroom was dressed in full business attire with expensive watches, huge wedding rings and fancy shoes. Clearly they were very established. Meanwhile, I’m standing there in a short floral dress, with a brown leather jacket and cowboy boots trying to discreetly scarf down the rest of CJ’s cinnamon raisin bagel because I forgot to eat breakfast at home.  My budget for clothes was pretty small since basically every penny I made went towards CJ’s school tuition.

The actual outfit I wore on CJ’s first day of school. This was taken at church though. It was my favorite outfit lol.

A few of the mothers in the corner were giving me major stink eye, but I was so emotional from my baby being in real school that I paid them no mind. The teacher began passing out a questionnaire to the parents.   It asked questions like “Does your child have a nickname?” or “Does your child have any allergies I should be aware of?”  When she got to me, I reached out my hand for the paper and she pulled hers back. “Where’s your mother, sweetie? She needs to fill this out.” “I am his mother.” The teacher, who was in fact a very sweet woman, began apologizing profusely saying that she mistook me for his sister. However, the immature mothers in the corner began to chuckle and snicker.

At this point in my life, I was 22 years old and had learned, for the most part, how to ignore ignorant people. But for some reason, those other moms really got under my skin. For the next two years that CJ  attended that school, I made it my top priority to show those other parents that I was just as deserving of the parent title as they were. I gave very enthusiastic “Hello!”, “HI!”, “Top of tha mornin’ to ya!” greetings each morning at drop off,  volunteered for every field trip and class party,  and I only wore business attire when visiting the school.

Despite all my efforts, I was never chosen to chaperone a field trip, was never chosen as Room Mom (even though I applied four times) and I was given very bleak responses to my over eager greetings each morning. It was difficult for me to process how I was being secluded from the parent community at the school when I paid the same school fees and was just as involved in my child’s education as they were. If anything, shouldn’t I be commended for putting my son in such an elite school at my young age? Not to mention that CJ tested at top of his class. Nope. No one cared. In everyone’s eyes I was just another teen mom. 

In 2014, CJ’s dad and I moved him to a new private school. I not only viewed this as a fresh start for CJ, but as one for me as well. This time,  I would make sure I made a more professional and mature impression on the school and the other moms.  The first day of school I went straight up to his new teacher and introduced myself as CJ’s mother. No way was I going to have another sibling mix-up. I also mentioned that I would be very interested in being the room mom for the class. Thankfully, the teacher was very sweet, and also around my age, so we had a good connection. She said I was the first to ask so she would grant me the role. BOO YOW BITCHES!

Aside from the fact that CJ’s classmates constantly told me I looked like I could be his sister, the parents respected me as their equal. I got to know a lot of the parents at the school since I coordinated all of the parties.  This made it very easy to make mom-friends. Some of which I still have now.

Unfortunately, despite my “mature” reputation amongst the other parents in the school, some members of the faculty still spoke to me as if I was a teenager. They offered parental advice when it wasn’t needed, gave disapproving looks when they noticed my tattoos or when I chose to wear a legging/sneaker ensemble to pick-up, and constantly reminded me that I was perfect as a field day volunteer because I was young and could keep up *inserts eye roll*.

The icing on the cake was when one teacher, probably the oldest teacher on the face of the universe, said the following and I realized I was never going to shake the “teen mom” title. “Wow. When I was your age I was just finishing college and looking for a husband. You started early, huh? God bless you.” Listen here you bag of bones, I don’t give two shits what you were doing at my age.

Two years later, we moved CJ to another school. Not because of the faculty, but because CJ needed to be challenged more academically. This did offer me yet another chance for a fresh start at a new school. But this time was different. I didn’t care how the parents and teachers viewed me. I didn’t care if they knew my age. All I cared about was the well-being of my son and his education. Everyone else could kiss my ass.

I’m not sure if it is my care free approach to this new school or the fact that I was 28 when CJ started (so I looked a little older than previous years), but so far so good. Two years later, CJ is still at the school and we absolutely love it. I am still (unfortunately) the room mom and receive respect from the parents and staff alike.

While we’re on the topic… Another place I often feel uncomfortable about my age as a parent is the work environment. Just a couple of weeks ago, I brought CJ to work with me for “Take Your Child to Work” day. I took CJ to the office cafeteria to get lunch and this happened…

A woman came up to me and said: I’m sorry. Did I just hear you say he is your oldest of three boys?

Me: Yes

Nosey ass woman: Wow. This whole time I thought you were one of the children that someone brought to work.

I smiled in the pettiest way I knew, paid for our food and we walked out.

Now I may look young, but I in no way look like a child that would be at work for “Take Your Child to Work” day. You tried it. I can understand you being a little surprised that I have three children, but let’s not get carried away.

I’ve also dealt with people coming into my office, seeing my pictures of my boys and say “OMG these are your children? All of them? How old are they? If you don’t mind me asking, how old are you?”

Yes, those are ALL my children.  Yes, they are old AF. Two of them are preteens and one is a baby. And yes, I do mind you asking me how old I am cause that’s rude AF and I don’t need you calculating the year I conceived my first-born, you creep! HAVE SOME FUCKING CLASS!!

I may have started on my family earlier than most but that does not make me irresponsible, unfit or unreliable. It also doesn’t make it okay for you to offer unsolicited advice, make disapproving gestures when you find out my age or judge me for “starting early”.

If you think it was tough for you to be a parent at what you deem an appropriate age, imagine how much harder I had to work to raise my child at 18. I was in college, didn’t make a lot of money, was going through my own hormonal changes and I was supposed to raise and protect another life. And you know what? I did it. And I did a damn good job at it.

So I am not just another teen mom. I am a super, incredible, fucking awesome mom and it’s time you know and respect that.

*drops mic*

The post Not Just Another Teen Mom: Breaking the Teen Mom Stigma appeared first on The Funny Momma.

CJ has always been different from other children. His interests have always been more mature than other kids his age. For example, he prefers Frank Sinatra and Ray Charles over rap music and R&B. He absolutely loves reading books of all genres. CJ even has a very sophisticated palette – preferring sushi and salads over fruit snacks and potato chips.  (I will say this is starting to change. He is becoming quite the junk food crack head now).

What has always stood out to me the most is the way he studies movies.  Most children will watch a movie on repeat- over and over again. CJ doesn’t just watch the movie over and over, he watches the extras where the director and animators explain their process by which they created their movie. Even at five years old, he would just sit there, watching these directors passionately talk about their work and animators demonstrating how they built the characters. He was and still is absolutely fascinated with how things are created.

This desire to understand how things are created has followed CJ into his pre-teen years. This especially applies to electronics. One of his favorite pastimes is taking gadgets apart  just to put them back together. He is our cable man, electrician and computer guy. If you have an electronic issue, CJ is your guy. Oh and CJ can break into anyone’s phone. Like I said, he’s a pretty smart little man. Like potential mega-hacker smart.  And it just wouldn’t be CJ if his superior intelligence didn’t get him in trouble from time to time.  

CJ has always been a firm believer in the “work smarter, not harder” mantra. If there is an easier, more efficient way to do something, I can guarantee you that CJ will figure it out.  He’s constantly researching how-to videos and life hacks to make already simple tasks even more simplistic. He’s not always successful, but he is relentless and won’t quit until his hack is a success.

CJ went to kindergarten at a Mandarin immersion school. This meant half of the school day he was taught in Mandarin and the other half was taught in English. He picked up Mandarin pretty quickly and was a good student overall, but he was constantly in trouble with his teachers for talking and or getting up when he wasn’t supposed to.

It all started with the behavior charts. Every day, when I would pick CJ up from school, I would take a look at the behavior charts to see how he behaved that day. A green card meant he had a good day, yellow was “ok” and red meant “get yo shit together”. For the entire first two months, CJ was on red 85% of the time. Not because he was bad or rude; CJ was always extremely polite. CJ would get in trouble because he would always finish his work early, walk over to the teacher and start messing with things on her desk. Every. Day. He just could not sit still.

Then one day, out of nowhere, CJ started getting green cards. Every day. And life was good. Or so we thought. Two weeks later we found out that before CJ went to aftercare, he would watch for when his teacher was leaving for the day, sneak into the classroom and switch his color back to green. If it wasn’t for another teacher spotting him one day, he would’ve gotten off scotch free.

As if figuring out how to manipulate the behavior chart system wasn’t enough, CJ soon figured out an easier way to complete his math homework. If you are a parent of a child 10 and under, you know that the way schools are teaching kids math nowadays is the most intricate, elaborate shit ever. And to top it off, it was in Chinese. FML. So CJ decided there had to be a simpler way. He would translate the equations to English,  solve the problem, and then ask google how to write it in Chinese. Viola! Homework completed.

I didn’t really think he was doing anything wrong because he was actually doing the math correctly and to be quite honest, CJ’s father and I had no fucking clue how to read Mandarin, so it was a win-win for everyone. Well CJ’s teacher thought otherwise. When she asked CJ why he never showed his work and only the answer, he replied simply “I do my work in English and google the rest.” Looking back on it, I can see why that didn’t go over too well.

So five-year old CJ has figured out how to manipulate the behavior tracking system and how to get around doing his math homework in Mandarin, but WAIT THERE’S MORE! Let’s fast forward to the end of the year when the teacher introduced Scantron tests to the class. For those of you who don’t know, Scantron testing is bubble style testing that allows teachers to run the completed tests through a special machine for grading.

CJ did exceptionally well on these tests. He never scored less than 100% and was always finishing way faster than the other students. We thought this was good news and were so proud of CJ. There was one problem, CJ was completing the tests so quickly that his teacher’s suspicions aroused.

One month before school ended, CJ’s father and I were called into the principal’s office for a mandatory meeting. This was not our first rodeo with the principal (she was constantly calling us in the office), but this time the principal was exceptionally pissed. CJ, with the usual guilty face, sat quietly in the corner.

Principal: I’ve called you all in today because we have found out some very disturbing news. CJ has been cheating on all his Scantron tests.

Me: WHAT?!? There must be some mistake!

Principal: No, Ms. Davis. There is not. CJ has figured out the pattern to each Scantron test, so that he can finish early. He’s been completing his tests in a matter of minutes. We’re going to be sending him home for the rest of the week.

Craig and I could help but chuckle. This was completely insane.

Me: Wait one second. Let me get this straight. You’re accusing my son of cheating because he figured out the answer pattern for his tests?

Principal: Yes. For every test there is a different pattern and he has figured out the last four. He answers the first couple of questions until he figures out the pattern. Then he fills in the rest based off of the pattern.

Now CJ is a lot of things, but a cheater is not one of them. I could not believe they were punishing him for figuring this out. I mean, the teacher was the bozo who created a pattern in the first place, with her lazy ass.

Me: Ma’am, CJ can take all of those tests over, no pattern involved and he will still ace them all.

Craig: Yeah. He’ll retake the tests and will be here tomorrow. You’re not suspending my child.

We went back and forth for about 25 minutes before coming to the agreement that CJ would retake the previous two tests the very next morning. The results of the test would determine whether or not he would be suspended. Although I was still perturbed, I knew CJ would pass the tests.

The next morning, we arrived at the school one hour earlier so he could retake his tests! 30 minutes later he had completed and ACED both! CJ walked out of the classroom smiling from ear to ear and the principal couldn’t say anything. He didn’t say it, but the face he made while looking at the principal read, “BOO YOW BIATCH!”

 That was the last time CJ’s teacher administered a Scantron test. CJ remained at the school for one more year, because it truly was a very good school academically. It was just not the right school for him. After first grade, we realized that CJ needed to be in a school that appreciated and encouraged his creative and strategic way of thinking.

I’m happy to report that although CJ is still a life hacking, phone decoding, busy body, he still remains the top of his class.  His test scores are through the roof and we are extremely happy with his new school. I couldn’t be prouder of my first-born, super genius, soon to be Nobel Peace Prize Winner.

 What is the craziest thing your child has done that landed you a meeting in the Principal’s office?! Tell me all about it!

The post CJ Jackson- Nobel Peace Prize Winner or Computer Hacker Extraordiniare appeared first on The Funny Momma.

After I had CJ (my first-born), I knew I wanted  to birth one more child. Actually, I really wanted to have two more. However, when I met Dayo, he already had a son, so we came into the marriage game two children strong. Before we got married, I made sure to constantly drop hints about the fact that I wanted to have another baby. Dayo would nod his head, but I knew he just wanted me to shut TF up.

It should be no surprise by now that I’ve always really wanted a daughter. Don’t get me wrong, boys are awesome, but something in me really wanted daughter. I always thought it would be so fun dressing my little mini me up pretty little dresses and cute hair bows. I also would love a little bit more estrogen in my house since I have been outnumbered by the guys 3-to-1 for so long. AND both my sisters have all girls and I’m the only one with boys. At some point it gets very irritating on Saturdays when you’re the only one going to football and soccer games while everyone else is going to ballet recitals. Did I mention that I hate being outside? Regardless, I’ve always really wanted a daughter of my own.

Three years before Dayo and I got married, I had to have unexpected fibroid surgery. After surgery, my doctor said that it would be safest for me to get pregnant in the next two to three years. Due to previous surgeries (ovarian cyst surgery and fibroid surgery), I had a lot of scarring which would make it more difficult for me to healthily carry a baby. When my doctor gave me the baby timeline, all I heard was “YOU NEED TO HAVE A BABY TOMORROW.” I brought up having a baby nearly every single day. Dayo always countered with “well if we miss the mark, we can always adopt.” Uh huh, yeah. Sure. As honorable as that was, I needed to have another baby and I wanted to make sure that I physically gave birth to the child. The catch was that we weren’t even married yet, and I wasn’t about to do the whole have-a-baby-before-marriage-and-get-cursed-out-by-your-family bullshit again.

If you read last week’s post, you know there was no way in hell that was going down again!

So now it was time to get married, because I just HAD to be married before I could have another baby. I’m not even gonna lie, I put the pressure on Dayo and I laid it on thick. So thick! Like, I brought up marriage every five seconds thick (that’s a story for another day). I knew after the first two weeks of our relationship that I was going to marry this man, so I felt no guilt in speeding up the process. Not cool, Katryce. Not cool.

However, in my case, Dayo knew I was a psychopath from the beginning so he basically expected this, right?

Long story short, I got da ring *does running man*. When we got married I was ready to start trying for a baby as soon as I said “I do”. I wanted to excuse myself from the wedding chapel and start the baby making process right away. I was so excited about my wedding night because I just knew we were going to make a baby. Well Dayo had a different plan because when I walked into the hotel room, he was passed out, drunk, hanging off the side of the bed. Needless to say, no baby for me that day *insert eye roll*. 

The next morning, when Dayo woke up, I was creepily staring at him sleep. I was ready to get started! Before I could savagely rip his clothes off, he told me that he had been thinking about the baby thing for a while and thought we should wait a year. “A YEAR! Whet?” Although I was irritated AF, I’m grateful we did wait because it would have been way too much pressure for us at that time. The boys were changing schools, Dayo’s business was growing and my responsibilities at work were increasing by the day.

I spent the next couple of months tracking my fertility,  ovulation cycle and period. I maintained a strict, baby friendly diet and was taking my temperature each morning to determine the perfect baby making schedule. I had my fertility window down to a T.

A year and some change went by and I was growing extremely impatient. I had e-fucking-nough. This guy was going to give me a damn baby whether he liked it or not. He knew that I wasn’t going to let this bullshit go on any longer. Either he was going to give me a baby peacefully or I was gonna take that shit. Needless to say, he caved and I was ready!

But before we could start the process, I had to go to the doctors for ultrasounds and blood tests to make sure my body was ready and able to support a pregnancy. Waiting for the results was terrifying.

Even though I was a little nervous that this was going to be a long process, I was up for the challenge. So the moment we walked in the house I hopped on Dayo like a tiger on a wounded gazelle. Poor thing didn’t stand a chance. 2 weeks later, I was holding a positive pregnancy test in my hand. Victory was mine! GOT EMMMM!

I had all intentions of getting pregnant with a girl. I tried every single wives tale to make sure that this baby was a girl. Every. Single. One. So there was no doubt in my mind that I was carrying a mini Katryce in my belly. At seven weeks pregnant, I made an entirely pink baby registry and started buying little girl knickknacks. My daughter’s name had been chosen about three years prior and we didn’t even bother thinking of any boy names because we just KNEW our kid had a vagina.

Technology is so advanced now days that you find things out way earlier than 10 years ago when I had CJ. For example, you can find out the sex of your baby via blood test at 3 months. You can still find out via ultrasound, however for the most accurate results, blood test is best. This blood test also determines whether or not your baby has any developmental issues. Even though we were patiently waiting for the results, I felt quite confident that I was carrying a girl. These results were only to confirm my own suspicions. We were speaking it into existence, thanking God for giving us a beautiful daughter, and we just couldn’t wait to see her.

The test took two weeks to process. During that time all of my family kept telling me not to focus on the sex of the baby. “Whether it’s a boy or a girl you’re gonna love this baby just as much as your other two… blah blah blah blah.” I knew that they were saying it so that I wouldn’t have a complete meltdown in the very unlikely event that I was pregnant with a boy, but I didn’t need to hear it. I would confidently answer

Of course. I’m totally fine with whatever sex of the baby is. I’m just praying for a healthy baby.

I think by guilt, all expecting parents say “I’m just praying for a healthy baby.” Obviously, you want a healthy baby- don’t get me wrong. But you are a fucking liar if you gonna sit here and tell me that you ain’t praying for a certain gender ESPECIALLY if you already have children. You just don’t want to piss God off. Neither do/did I so I would always add the caveat “…healthy baby” so he wouldn’t think I was an ungrateful momma who didn’t care about the health of my child.

Sidenote- God, if you’re reading this, please don’t be mad at me because I cursed in the same paragraph that I said your name in. I love you Big Guy. 

Two weeks after the test, I was regularly checking my email for updates on the tests results. I could not wait to rub it in my family’s face that I was right and I was now going to be joining the girl club! I was finally going to be able to do all of the girly things that my sisters get to do with their daughters.

One day, I woke up and per usual, checked my email. Only this time, I finally had an email that read “Your results are in.” I was so excited that I screamed and woke Dayo up. I frantically told him that today was the day that we get confirmation on our daughter. Before I could open the email, Dayo held my hand and looked to me intensely in the eye. “Babe, I know we want a girl so bad, but if it’s not, we will love this baby no matter what and won’t be upset.” I once again answered “Of course. I’m totally fine with whatever sex the baby is. I’m just praying for a healthy baby.”

I clicked the link. I swear it felt like it took four hours for the site to open. I was very quiet, and Dayo was anxiously waiting to hear the news. The site finally opened and I found the box that I needed to click that would show the results. As soon as I clicked it I saw the words:

Congratulations! It’s a Boy!

All of a sudden my phone fell to the ground. At this point, Dayo didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

I dropped to my knees and muttered “…it has a penis.”

Dayo looked confused. “Huh? What?”

“THERE IS A MOTHERFUCKING PENIS ON THE BABY.”  I got up, walked into the bathroom, turned on the water and sat in the shower for 45 minutes. You ever seen that Justin Timberlake “Gone” video? Yeah. That was me. I was miserable. I know that I just promised God and my husband that I wouldn’t be upset and that I just wanted a healthy baby, but GEEZ! It cut me deep.

When I finally got myself together and got out of the shower, I texted my mom and sisters these exact words:

It’s a boy. Don’t want to talk about it.

At that very moment, my two older boys came flying in the room, covered in dirt from outside and smelling like last year. They began to wrestle on my floor and knocked over nearly everything in sight. Great. This is what I have to look forward to… another stank ass little boy.

I’m not even going to lie, I was pissed for about two months. Anytime I saw a baby girl on Instagram or FB I rolled my eyes. Whenever my nieces needed me to do their hair, I did a crooked ponytail- just to be spiteful. I may or may not have hid all of the Shopkins in Target just so no other mother would ever feel the joy of buying their daughter the girly toy of the year.

It wasn’t until one night when I was laying on the couch and watching TV that things changed. I was feeling particularly down this day and was counting the calendar days until I could enjoy my one-glass-of-wine-per-week portion of my pregnancy. Right then, I felt a kick. Not the little flutters you have in the beginning, but an actual, hard ass kick. I pushed my belly where I felt the initial kick and he kicked me again. My heart was instantly filled with pure love and I began to cry. Here I was, pouting like a little biatch about the sex of my baby when I hadn’t taken the time to appreciate this amazing gift I was carrying. I had fallen in love all over again. It was incredible.

Fast forward to this morning. I was awoken by the screeching howls of my beloved, Ashton. I barely got three hours of sleep last night due to sleep training and I was pretty irritated. I stormed out of the bed, grabbed my robe and swung open Ashton’s door. When he saw me, the tears and screaming instantly stopped. He looked so deeply in my eyes and smiled. My heart melted. I picked him up he cuddled right under my neck. His little arms can barely wrap around my neck but somehow he managed to squeeze me so tight. I know that is his way of saying “I love you”. I wouldn’t trade that or him for anything in the world.

Sure, he’s a grade A psychopath who climbs all over me and pulls my hair. And yeah, he is the screaming champion of the year and can blow those little lungs like a bag pipe. But he’s also sweet, intelligent and a bigger momma’s boy than CJ (a nearly impossible feat). Even though he can’t talk yet, I can clearly understand everything he is saying to me. And most of the time he’s saying “ I love you so much, Mom. Now please come wipe my ass.” Aren’t boys the best?

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Craig Allen Jackson Jr is my first born, baby boy, Junie Bug, Baby Cakes, Love Muffin and BFF. He only goes by CJ and is literally offended when anyone calls him otherwise. In 2006, God decided to bless me with this amazing little boy when I was only 19 years old. To say that I was not mature enough to be a mom is a HUGE understatement. I watched Hocus Pocus on a weekly basis, considered Taco Bell and corndogs a balanced diet and was still waiting for my acceptance letter to The Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I don’t even think I had a credit card at this point. Even though I was legally considered one, I was nowhere close to being an adult.

Regardless, God chose me out of everyone in the world to be the mom of this incredible little being. CJ’s father and I married shortly after he was born because we thought it was the “right thing” to do. We wanted to provide a family environment for CJ and marriage seemed like the next logical step. Fast forward to 2 years later- we threw in the towel. Like I literally threw the towel in the trash, walked the trash can to the street and waited for the garbage man to come so I can watch that shit ride off into the sunset. Marriage was hard as shit and we were just babies who had no idea what we were getting ourselves into.  When I think back at that time I’m never disappointed or angry about the marriage or the divorce. It was a learning lesson for both of us and I’m happy to report that we now very successfully co-parent our little knucklehead.

Ok- back to CJ. He’s hilarious. Like knee slapper funny. There’s even been a couple times where I’ve had to pull the car over to the side of the road because he’s made me laugh so hard. And don’t get me started on his dancing skills (I’m using the word “skills” very loosely). My poor baby can’t dance to save his life. No matter the beat, he just can’t catch it. His hips get all lose, he starts moving his neck like a turtle and then does this drop move that makes him look like a malfunctioning robot. He’s well aware of the fact that he is not gifted in the art of dance but that has never stopped him from grooving his life away. Anytime any kind of music comes on CJ has this irresistible desire to get up and move. Even watching TV is a chore with this guy because during every commercial break, he stands up to dance to the commercial’s background music. SIT YO ASS DOWN SIR!

CJ’s always been driven and knows exactly what he wants. Since age 5 he’s told me that when he goes to college he will be going to NYU with Harvard as a “back-up” (you can’t grow that kind of confidence on trees) and that goal has never changed. CJ is on the basketball team, soccer team, boy scouts, band, running club and just asked me to sign the permission slip for the safety patrol league. He’s a borderline genius, loves to read (in the 5^th grade reading at an 11^th grade level) and can hack into nearly any type of smart device (hide ya phones). He’s kind, loving and empathetic but also mischievous, daring and wild at the same time. What stands out the most is his exceptional charisma. He’s gotten out of many punishments with “this was honestly the most delicious meal I’ve ever had in my life”, “your skin is literally glowing today” and his all-time go-to “did you lose weight. You look incredible!” He is extremely resilient so it’s never easy to reprimand CJ without getting hella creative.

At age 5, CJ went through a period where he just couldn’t follow directions and wouldn’t tell the truth. Whether it was something as big as getting a bad grade or something as small as who ate the entire box of pop-tarts- CJ would lie. The situation was getting out of hand and I knew I had to take drastic action. CJ is the world’s biggest Tim Burton fan and Charlie and the Chocolate factory is where it all started. He’s never been afraid of much but that scene where the little girl turns into the blueberry scared the shit outta him. Every. Damn. Time.

So one night, after watching Charlie and the Chocolate Factory for the 1,274,532^nd time, I explained to him that the reason why she turned into a blueberry was because she was not following directions and had lied to her mom. He looked a little concerned but was obviously not concerned enough. Literally three minutes later…THREE MINUTES LATER… he took my brand new nail polish and decided to paint the bathroom cabinets. My first thought was to flip-the-FUCK out, but instead I took a deep breath and came up with the greatest idea ever known to man. I quietly cleaned off the cabinets, made him brush his teeth and put him to bed. He thought he got off scotch-free but Mami had bigger plans.

The next morning, I woke up super early and asked my baby sis if I could borrow her blue eye shadow. While CJ was still asleep, I rubbed a nickel sized amount on the tip of his nose and then hid the evidence. I woke the little sucker up and told him it was time for school and that he needed to brush his teeth. I walked in the bathroom casually behind him because I knew this shit was gonna be good. He grabbed his tooth brush, neatly put the toothpaste on it and brings it to his mouth. Before it makes direct contact, he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He squints at himself and then puts the tooth brush down so that he can freely rub booth eyes. Staring at himself, eyes now huge- he looks terrified. He looks at me and I act just as surprised. “CJ what the heck is that on your nose?! Oh my goodness! My baby is turning into a blueberry! Now we’re going to have to juice him! Take me now Lord!!!” I dramatically drop to my knees which sends CJ bursting into tears “BUT I DON’T WANT TO BE JUICED!!” He didn’t lie for at least 3 months after that. Mom-1. CJ- 0.

What’s the most creative punishment you’ve given to your child(ren)? Let me know in the comments below!

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