Chapter 10

Some of you have asked me to write about my wild child. So, it's time to write about Jeff, my second son, he's 44 years old. I can honestly say that Jeff taught me everything that didn't work as a parent. I tried it all. When he was a teenager, I tried parenting classes, because nothing else worked. Guess what? They didn't work either. What did get him through his teenage years was me on my knees in prayer.

One of Jeff's problems is he's highly intelligent, with an IQ of 165. But he is, also, severely ADHD. The combination of the two is frightening.

One of his football coaches told me that 'Jeff was the best pure athlete he'd ever seen, if he could only get his head on straight.'

This incident took place during our second tour of Germany, so around 1995. Of course, Brian was gone; deployed to Bosnia.

Greg and Jeff were both in high school. We were stationed in Darmstadt. They didn't have an American High School, so the boys rode a school bus to the closest American High School which was in Wiesbaden. It was almost an hour away on the Autobahn.

The legal drinking age in Germany, at that time, was fifteen. It may have changed since. It didn't take the football linemen long to figure this out. Jeff was a defensive lineman. Next problem, the high school had an open lunch schedule. The linemen would walk across the street to the Esso gas station during their lunch period and buy alcohol. It was legal. Only when they stepped back onto US soil, the military base, it wasn't legal. The MP's figured this out and arrested the linemen. On more than one occasion I had to pick up my son from the MP station for underage drinking.

New problem, the linemen figured out if they didn't return to class, MPs couldn't arrest them. They skipped their afternoon classes, but did return for football practice. I didn't realize this until the report cards came out. Parent communication wasn't a priority at this school.

When I saw his number of absences, I went immediately to the school and had a talk with the principal and Jeff's teachers. I told each one that if I didn't call the school and tell them I had kept Jeff home, that he was truant, and I wanted a phone call. I couldn't' correct the situation if I didn't know about it.

I thought I'd handled the problem. Nope. He continued skipping school. I put my request in writing to be notified. Still no notification.

I mentioned to Greg, "You're up here and know what he's doing. Why don't you stop him?"

Greg's answer, "Mom, he's like the Eveready Bunny. He keeps on going and I can't keep up."

I withdrew Jeff from school. His response, "Momma, you can't do that."

My answer, "Watch me. I'm a certified teacher. I'll home school you. You're not coming up here for an education, but to drink."

I was a DODDS certified teacher. I wasn't teaching at that time because Steven was an infant, and I'd stayed home with him.

I believed I had my problem solved. The next time my parents called I told my mom about the situation. A few days later, I got a call from my dad. They offered to take Jeff until we returned to the states. I accepted their offer. They lived, and Mom still does, in the middle of nowhere in Missouri, surrounded by an Amish community.

Jeff was always one step ahead of me. I didn't realize until about a year later, when we were clearing housing what Jeff had done during his home-schooling time. We lived on the fourth floor. He had cut a hole in his window screen and rigged up a pulley. His friends would buy him alcohol, and he'd pull it up to his room.

Jeff was a child who had to be kicked in the head about twenty times before he realized that mule kicked. There will be many more Jeff stories. I have numerous. They do get worse.

Today, Jeff is an excellent Chef and has his own thriving business. He doesn't like being told what to do, so it's best he works for himself. He has three kids, two boys and one daughter. Their ages range from 19 to 25. His oldest son, Geoffrey will make me a great grandma the first of this April.

His youngest, Jace, is just like his father. I often got the call, "Mamma, what am I going to do with Jace?"

After I secretly laughed and said to myself, 'It couldn't happen to a better person,' I responded, "Pray and love him through it."

A few summers ago, while we were visiting, Jeff asked, "Mamma, could you take Jace home with you for the summer? We need a break from each other."

I said, "I'm sure it's all right, but I need to check with your dad."

Brian said 'okay', and Jace spent the rest of June, July, and part of August with us. We had no problems with him and enjoyed his company.

Jeff is still Jeff. I doubt he'll ever fully grow up. He has one of the biggest hearts you'll ever find and has a super work ethic. He's a great husband and father. Family is everything to him. We often end our facetime conversations with, "Jeff, remind me the next time I see you to kick your butt." This is because of something totally ridiculous that Jeff has said, just to get a reaction.

He laughs. "Sure will, Mamma. I'll even bend over for you."

When Jeff's children were teenagers, he apologized to me for all he put us through and has done so numerous times.