It's Karma, Folks

Yesterday, I was telling a friend of mine about how Isaac had peed on my leg while snuggling with me and she burst out laughing. You see, before I had kids, I would wait for her stories with the same anticipation that a little kid waits for Christmas. She is blessed with spunky spirited children that would do the funniest things, and hearing about them was the highlight of my day.  Now that has come full circle and as a mom of older kids, she sits back and laughs at me when I recount the things my kids do.

But yesterday, after she stopped laughing she brought something up that made me sit back and think "Hm, maybe all of the heart attacks and head aches that my kids cause me are karma for the things I did to my parents growing up".

Without further ado, here is the story about the time I pranked my parents.

When I was 19, I decided to take a solo trip to San Fransisco to visit my cousin and her family. I saved up money, bought a plane ticket and went on my merry way. Before leaving, there was a lot of joking around about me not coming home.

My cousin and her husband live in a little place called Nice, California. I kid you not. I have the t-shirt. At the time, they were volunteer firefighters and paramedics there.

The itinerary for my trip involved flying into San Fransisco, staying at my cousin's husband's grandmothers house in the City for a night (or two? I can't recall) and then continuing on to Nice and spending some time there, then hitting San Fran one more time before heading home.

Frank (the cousin's husband)'s grandmothers house was on the side of a hill with a truly spectacular view of the ocean. I remember them taking me down to the pier nearby and watching the waves crash into shore. It was so hypnotic.  I'm sure I could have stood there all day. I must have taken a whole roll worth of film (yes, it was "back in the day" before digital cameras were affordable) of just the waves.
This isn't a picture from the pier, it's actually from Highway 1. 

You drive out of the mountains, come around a corner, and this is the view. It left me speechless.
We spent a memorable day wandering around pier 39 and checking out the cool little shops, drove by Lombard Street (seriously, when you look out your window and can't see down the road because it's so steep, that's too steep people!) and rode a streetcar (I got smacked on the rear end by a pylon while I was hanging on).  Frank got four police men to take a picture with me on the street (by the way, thanks, Frankie - the embarrassment lives on) and took me to Round Table Pizza where I tried the Maui Zowie pizza that changed my life. For reals, folks. Even if you hate Hawaiian pizza like I do, you'll like this one.

Then we headed to Frankie and Michelle's place. They introduced me to their friends at the Fire Department where they worked, drilled me to see how fast I could get a uniform on (I'm pretty sure I sucked) and took me on a ride along in an ambulance, and a fire truck. It was one of the days we were just hanging around talking that the idea was born. The evil idea.

We called my parents and told them that I had decided to stay there. Frank and Michelle were going to let me live with them, and they had found me a local job.  They should expect to be contacted by someone from immigrations in the next few days in order to verify information required for my work visa.

Of course, my parents were suspicious, and didn't really believe me. After all, we are all pretty creative practical jokers in my family, and we had already joked about me not returning home. But this is where our stroke of genius came into play. We had one of my cousin's co-workers call from a different phone later one, gave him all of my personal documentation and had him pretend to be an immigration officer. You could tell as the conversation went on that my parents were convinced that this was actually happening. After all, this strange man they didn't know was calling from a number the didn't recognize and he had all of my personal information: SIN card number, Health Card number, Driver's License number...

I'm pretty sure I waited about a day before calling them back and telling them it wasn't true. A. Whole. Day. Yes, I'm a jerk. I know. Looking back at that prank through a mom's eyes, I realize now that it was mean. Funny? Absolutely. But if my boys ever did that to me, I think I would kill them.

So in retrospect, I shouldn't be all that surprised at the things my boys do. After all, they have my genes.

Oh, and Mom? Once again, I'm sorry!


Alcatraz. I'm pretty sure this is where my parents wanted to put me after my prank.
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