In my youth, whenever I did something particularly wretched
instead of being sent to my room or put in time out my parents had me run laps
around our house. The laps can probably be pinpointed to the time my mom gave
me a five-minute time out and I sassed her saying I didn’t care because I would
just tell myself a story.
Let me be clear, now that I am grown and have learned all
there is to learn about life, I’m glad my parents made me run laps. What a
wonderful opening to a sports movie this would be if I had grown up to be an
Olympic Marathoner. Although I am no Olympian, I tell you this, my children will
run laps, their children will run laps, and a millennia from now my
offspring’s, offspring’s, offspring will be doing laps on the moon.
Here follows a list of my grievances and their corresponding
laps.
Offense: Eating unauthorized snacks outside the kitchen
Punishment: 3 laps
My favorite thing to do is also my greatest vice. I love to snack. Not
just snack though…I like to lounge and snack. There is no greater joy to me
than kicking back with a cold soda and a granola bar/cookies/cheez its/etc in a
place not initially designed for eating to occur. When I was younger I used to
like to take breaks from my hectic adolesence by sneaking some kind of treat
and soda up to my room and enjoying it while reclining on my inflatable purple chair in my room. However it was (actually technically still is)
against the rules to eat food outside the kitchen in the Fisher household. And it
was extra against the rules to eat snacks that were specially bought for school
lunches. So anytime I got caught eating outside the kitchen (which was
everytime) I had to run laps around the house. This was a minor offense and
usually I was only sentenced to about 3 laps which is the maximum amount of
laps I would run without walking at the strategic corners where I thought my
mom couldn’t see me walking (I was wrong). If I got caught walking it added an extra lap.
Offense: Use of Foul Language
Punishment: Laps dependent on word used. Also, soap in
mouth.
This one is pretty self explanatory…get caught saying a bad
word…you’re gonna be runnin’ kid.
S words-3 laps
B words-4 laps
F words-5 laps
GD-6 laps
Offense: Sneaking TV on a school night
Punishment: 5 laps if regular TV. 6 laps if MTV.
No TV on school nights was a hard line in the Fisher family
in my day. I say in my day because my inside sources (my sisters) have revealed
to me that the lockdown on weekday media has somewhat lessened of late. And in all
fairness my sisters are much better at math than I was. Anyway, we were not
allowed to watch TV on school nights but occasionally beautiful windows of
opportunity would present themselves where I could sneak 20 minutes here and there. Like when my mom would go running and leave me in charge…or when she
would go to the grocery store and leave me in charge. The second my mom left I
would run to the basement turn on the TV really low and sit as close to it as
possible all while being on high alert for the sound of the garage door opening
signaling the return of my mother. You will note that I was not on high alert
for cries of distress from the younger siblings of whom I was supposedly “in
charge of”… As with my snacking I got caught 98% of the time I tried to sneak
television. The time I got caught watching MTVs Real World I had to run an
extra lap (but it was Real World Paris so it was WORTH IT)
Offense: Lying about having to watch TV on a school night
for a school project.
Punishment: 8 laps. Dear America books taken away for a
week.
One time when I was around 9 I told my mom I HAD to
watch an episode of “The Secret World of Alex Mack” for a school project. I
came up with the incredibly elaborate lie that my 4th grade teacher
Mrs. Costello wanted my class to watch the show to learn more about acting in
order to prepare for the class play we would be putting on the following month.
I even went so far as to make up a fake certification slip that my parents had to sign to show that I had
in fact watched that night’s episode. Luck was not on my side that
day…apparently despite my Mavis Beacon typing skills there is a distinct
difference in writing style between a seasoned 4th grade teacher and
a conniving 9 year old. I had to run 10 laps for that bungled attempt at
deception. Running anything over 6 laps was always tricky. I had a neighborhood image to maintain and I looked like a real looney tune running circles in my yard. So whenever I had to run an excessive amount of laps I would pretend like I was playing tag with my siblings...making sure to yell out as I turned a corner something like "Stop cheating! Mom, Maggie's cheating!"
Offense: Refusal to clean the basement.
Punishment: 10 laps. Have to clean by myself.
My basement in Atlanta was awesome. It was just one wide stretch of carpet that spanned the entire length of our house. It was
filled with every toy imaginable for ages 10 and under. Legos, Lincoln logs,
hot wheels, Fisher-Price kitchens, play houses, dolls, dress up clothes, wiffle ball bats, super soakers, oh how the list goes on….And it was also always an enormous disaster. Twice a year my siblings and I would have to do a massive cleaning and organizing blitz on our
basement wonderland and it SUCKED. Twice a year we would cry and beg to not
have to do it and twice a year my dad would say “Fine, then we’ll just throw
everything away.” That threat usually got me cleaning real fast until my 8th
year when I had truly refined the art of argument and manipulation. I decided
that it was unfair that, I a mature 8 year old should have to clean the
basement alongside my little siblings (they made most of the mess anyway.) So instead of cleaning I delegated tasks
to all my siblings. Johno was on block and vehicle detail. Maggie was on
weapons (of the nerf variety) and video collection. Maryanne was in charge of
dress-up organiztion…which was pretty ridiculous because she was two. Lizzie, my youngest sister was not born yet, which means there were still
chores to be done and I certainly wasn’t going to do them. So I snuck out the
basement door and went to tell my friends playing kickball in the cul-de-sac
that if they didn’t come help us clean they wouldn’t be allowed to
come over and play anymore. And that is where my plan unraveled. There were too
many cooks in the basement. My parents came down to find half the neighborhood
tidying the basement with me sitting on the play house dictating from on high.
They sent everybody outside (including my brother and sisters) and made me
clean the rest of it by myself. I even had to vacuum! Then I had to run 9 laps. Which effectively blew the
lid off of my “playing tag” charade since my
siblings were playing SPUD with everybody else on the driveway. I was clearly just running in
circles by myself. That was the most laps I ever had to run…until my deepest shame, the worst thing I ever did.
Offense: The Worst Thing I Ever Did
Punishment: 1000 laps
When I was 10,
my parents were out of town and my grandmother had come in to watch the five of us.
They had also hired a babysitter to come in and help on the weekend to watch
“the little girls” (Maryanne and Lizzie) while my grandma shuttled “the big
three” (Me, John, and Maggie) to our various sporting events. This was during
the artist phase of my life. I had gotten a set of acrylic paints for my 10th
birthday whilst in the throes of an artistic fever that lasted a total of 3
weeks. It was a rainy afternoon and at a loss of what to do I decided to take
up the old brush again. However I couldn’t find a paintbrush…or canvas…so like
any good artistic prodigy I created my own tools. I decided to create a
haunting memorial to my youth by finger painting a self portrait and signing it
with my handprints…on the wall of my closet. I then proceeded to make one
helluva a mess in the bathroom while trying to wash my hands. I of course
abandoned the mess and went outside to play the second the sun came out. Later
that day my grandmother discovered the mess and gathered the big three together
to ask who had done it. I said it was Maryanne. My grandmother believed me
(probably because I was named after her and Joan’s don’t lie)…and fired the
babysitter, assuming it was neglect on her part for allowing a 3 year old to
get into acrylic paints. I held onto my lie for about 12 hours with the guilt
eating me alive. After stress eating two waffles at The Waffle House I finally came clean. My
grandmother’s disappointment was heartbreaking and the apology call I had to
make to the babysitter was mortifying but the anticipation of how many laps I
was going to have to run when my parents heard about this was an all consuming
dread. That Sunday when my parents returned, after the family meeting, my
parents doled out my punishment. I could run a thousand laps around the house
or go run a mile with my dad. I picked the latter. The next morning, at 5 AM my
dad woke me up and I ran with him all the way to the “top of the neighborhood.”
It was the first time I ever ran a mile. I would never have to run laps again.
Because after my great shame I was perfect. Just Kidding. The next year I
stole a pack of gum from Publix.
