Grace. And girl-farts.

I have done a terrible thing.

A shockingly awful, embarrassing thing.

It involves a lie that I told.

Yes, I lie.

(Whatever! You lie, too. If you claim you don't, go away. Your kind isn't welcome here.)


I told a lie to my kids and now that my darling oldest son is 18 and moving out and venturing ahead - particularly into close relationships with women who are not his Mother - I can see how my lie is going to disrupt his life a bit. Possibly cause him some pain. Maybe destroy him completely.

You see, when my giant, burly boy was a wee babe, I taught him a mild untruth about the human race; I told him that...*ahem*... Ok. I told him girls don't fart.

"Girls don't fart."


Like, at all.

I may have inferred that it's physically impossible.

Of course, as God poured more boys into our family, with the addition of two more extremely well-endowed sons (you're welcome, guys!), this slight misrepresentation about the feminine form was easy to hold to. So I let it fester.

But as my children have awakened from the innocence of their childhood, transforming from rascally chub-faced angels into the trio of furry, smelly, mouthy young men I currently live with, they have begun to question my teaching. “Maria Laura farted in P.E., Mom. I heard it. I smelled it. She admitted it was her. What do you say about that?”

And I can feel my credibility slipping, sliding toward the agonizing death of the Easter Bunny and the Tooth Fairy, to take it's place in the sewer of lies-parents-tell, at the right hand of Santa Claus.

"Mom doesn't know what she's talking about. Or? She's a liar."

Either way, I look like a dumbass. A broken, lost soul; hopelessly prideful, and full of her own ideas. An imperfect Mother, clinging to the hope that my children will each, in their own (hopefully not too agonizing) way, come to know true Grace, and in turn, generously impart it to their oh-so-mortal Mom.

I'm sorry. I lied.

I know I should have told them the truth from the very beginning. 

Girls fart!

...but I never have.

WHAT?! Baby steps, people.  

...      ....     ...

Grace, for your silly little heart. And mine.