How can we ensure our children are okay when we send them off into the great big world every day?
I was prepared to have kids. I knew how to change a diaper. I could shove a boob or a bottle in their mouth if they cried. But I wasn’t prepared to have them grow into people who would have to leave the safety of my arms and have interactions with others and have FEELINGS.
It’s me that is supposed to have all the feelings. That unconditional love for your children. The kind where you love them so much it hurts, but also how bad do you want to get away from them? I want to get away from them so bad some days it hurts. The feeling of dropping them off at school for the first time and watching your babies grow up right before your eyes and you have that bittersweet mix of happiness and sadness. Or the feeling you get when your child hurts themselves and only your kisses can make them feel better, but then there are the times they hurt themselves and you refuse to console them because you “told them so.” Just FEELINGS.
Mom groups have never been my scene. I can’t be bothered hanging around a crapload of kids who are running around screaming while I am trying to listen to their mom pitch me her latest pyramid scheme. I also can’t sit around and act like I am having fun when I can see my kid asking yours to stop bugging him, but your little brat apparently doesn’t know what STOP means. I’m exhausted parenting my own kids, and now I have to go whip somebody else’s into shape?!
I go straight mama bear. Like grizzly teeth, I probably drool when I’m in that state or foam at the mouth. I have the power to lift a car off my children, and I will find the strength to launch it onto you if you deserve it. Don’t fuck with my kids.
When my oldest complained about a kid in his preschool class being mean to him, I did all I could do.
“Did you ask him to stop?”
Dexter: “Yes, but he didn’t.”
“Listen here,” as I grab his face with my hands and hold it inches from mine, “you tell that kid to stop being mean to you. If he doesn’t knock it off, you tell him word for word that your mom is going to kick his mom’s ass! Got it?! GOT IT?! I will meet her in the parking lot after school. Nuh uh!” my finger waving back and forth, “Nobody messes with you!”
I threw a lot of fake punches in the air, training for my parking lot brawl that I was prepared to have after PRESCHOOL got out. PRESCHOOL! Admittedly not my finest parenting moment.
Mine and my husbands parental philosophy is that if someone is bothering you, you ask them to stop. If they don’t stop after you asked, you have every right to fight back.
This doesn’t work if your child is a sensitive soul though (with the exception of punching his younger brother). All we want is to protect these spawns of ours, and if we can’t be there at all times then they need to protect themselves. We don’t want our children to be the aggressive ones, we just want them to take a stand when it is needed.
But looking back, my husband and I were both quiet, shy and sensitive. It took years to be able to hold our own.
When a friend of mine had her first child, someone asked if she would rather her kid be a bully, or be bullied. These are NOT fair questions to ask mothers! Especially during such a hormonal time! Get out of here!
But I don’t think there is a proper answer to that question. Nobody wins.
You can’t force your child to have a backbone. But you can teach them to be kind. To treat others with respect and to know right from wrong.
I am just trying to raise good kids. I believe it takes a village. If my kid is being a little shit I expect some wise adult, stranger or not, to give them a talking to. I will do it to your kids. And if there are no adults around and our kids are being bullied, well.. that bully is going to get punched.
Or at least their mom is.
