Sometimes, I lie

I consider myself an honest person.

I stop at stop signs, I obey the laws of the land, if I accidentally leave a store with some unknown object (what mother has not had this happen and only realized it once you get out to the car?)then I truck back in to return or pay for it.

But sometimes in the interest of time constraints or the possible embarassment of another person, I have been known to lie.

Example: When I was a freshman at BYU I work at the Ernest L. Wilkinson Cafeteria, the ELWC for those on the down low. What? The down low? I don't know who I am sometimes.

Anywaaay, I worked in the service line, usually cutting meat. A lot of people came thru during education week and since we are all Mormon, everyone is nice and chatty and wants to know where you're from for some reason.

Well, as I'm serving up a slice of roast beef to a gentleman who oddly looks like John Malkovich, he asks me "so where you from?".

I answer brightly, as the dutiful employee I am, "Oh, I'm from Washington" (imagine annoying perky smile, too much teeth)

"Oh" he says, "Do you grow apples there?"

And thinking he means Washington in general I answer proudly "Why yes we do!"

So imagine the instant awkward-ness I feel when he says "oh yeah? How many acres do you have?"

What?! Oh cr*p. He's halfway down the line, still talking to me, and I don't want to take the time to inform him of the misunderstanding. So I answer:

"Ten acres?"

At the time I'm not even sure if that sounds like a legitimate amount, and probably he had no idea either, so he just smiled and said "that's great, well, have a great day!"

"thanks" I reply.

I'm totally going to heck, I just lied at BYU.

Example #2: One of the times Jeff and I lived in Provo, Maile and her family came and stayed with us for a day or two.

At that time her family consisted of Maile and her husband Scott and their 5 month old daughter, Megan.

We all went to Target for some reason, (back when we only had 3 kids between the two of us and that was still possible) and Maile decided to try on some clothes as Jeff and Scott wandered in another part of the store.

So I was given the happy assignment of holding Megan while we waited for Maile.

Now just so you know, Megan is now a gorgeous 10 year old, and she was a beautiful baby as well. But for some reason that day Maile had her dressed from head to toe in denim.

And as we all know, 5 month old babies can look male or female depending on what you dress them in. And denim is a sure wringer to convince people your baby is a boy.

Where was I? Oh, yeah.

So I'm standing there holding Megan when this woman, who is waiting for someone says, "how old is he?"

Immediately she has it wrong, and she has asked the question in a way that I would have to correct her from the get go, which as a 26 year old young mother, I seemed incapable of doing.

So figuring that I could answer and then never see her again, I answered "5 months". Careful, you may notice, to not call her a him as to not perpetuate this little lie.

But the woman decides to keep talking to me about "him".

For crying out loud, what's a person to do?

So she oohs and aahs, "oh he so cute, he's so this, blah, blah, blah".

And then comes the worst part, after standing there letting this woman think Megan is a boy for the last 3 minutes, she asks the dreaded question.

"What's his name?"

Uhhh, what?, shoot, now she'll know I'm a big fat liar.

So I did what anyone would do, I answered, "Joseph."

Yes, now I'm for sure going to heck.

"Oh Joseph, what a cute name, blah, blah, blah"

At this moment, Maile exits the dressing room, and realizing that there is still potential to be caught in this lie once Maile looks confused at her daughter being called Joseph I quickly go to her, handing her Megan, and whisper frantically in her ear,

"Megan's a 5 month old boy named Joseph!"

My fabulous sister plays along, not having any clue why I have apparently lost my mind.

She accepts the final compliments from this poor woman and we make a quick departure.

For a while after that, Maile and Scott would call Megan stinky Joe, a tribute to my comical stupidity. Sheesh.

I could probably go on with many more examples because this seems to happen to me a lot.

Mostly with strangers. I am too lazy to correct people when I figure I will never see them again.

I found though, that you can lie without speaking. That being a 35 year old mother of 6 has not enabled me with the ability to handle things maturely 100 percent of the time.

Case in point. Yesterday I was in the school office to check Anne Marie and Charlie out of school.

While standing at the counter waiting my turn to talk to the office people, I noticed a small stack of packets/permission slips for the upcoming school play.

Knowing that at least two of my children wanted to try out, I thought,"I'll grab 4 just in case everyone wants to try out and then I don't have to trek back in here." It wasn't my fault that there were only 4 left, so I took them all.

So I have my packets, I've told the office people that I need Charlie and Anne Marie, and I'm standing there waiting for the kiddos when I hear someone ask:

"Can I get one of the permission slips for the play?"

Shoot, double shoot, what do I do? I already know I've taken the last 4, and I need them all, they probably have more somewhere, right?

So I'm standing there attempting to look non-chalant as the Principal and the grumpy office assistant (who always scares me cuz she looks like she's going to yell at you for checking your child out of school) are searching everywhere saying "there was a big stack right here! Where did they go?"

At this point I'm pretty sure my guilty face is going to give me away, and yet I cannot summon the ability to say "Oh, I took the last of them", cuz what if grumpy face girl yells at me?

My only hope was to wait for Charlie and Anne Marie out in the hallway, cuz it was only a matter of time before I was found out.

Carefully hiding the papers behind me, I backed out of the office (like THAT wouldn't draw anyone's attention) and then did a quick spin so the papers were in front of me (I could be a secret agent), walked into the hallway out of sight of the office, rolled the papers up and hid them in my coat.

When I saw Charlie and Anne Marie I said "Come one, lets go, quickly!"

I was having day-mares of grumpy face chasing me down the hall yelling, "Hey! We know what you diiiiddd!" (imagine scary voice)>
Did I happen to mention I'm a 35 year old mother of 6?

Seems they'll let anyone have kids these days.