Well, I’ve had the talk with the Girl...The “coming of age” talk that every mother and young girl should have and sometimes never do. I can understand why. It’s hard to break the news to them...
The fact that girls can be bitches. In fact, I know someone, who’s mother told her at the age of ten, “women are bitches, and you’re one of them”.
I tried a little different approach with Girl. Basically, at the age of ten, and after her having a rough day, I said to her : “Girls can be bitches, and you are a girl. You can either be a bitch, or not”. But I let her know, they are out there, and they are not, have not, and will not go away. I also let her know, they don’t necessarily grow out of it. This is why I likened it to the other “Talk”. Kind of like...”yeah....well, yeah. Sorry. There’s some bat-shit crazy bitches out there, oh yeah, and by the way, that cramping/vomitting/diarrhea/emotional production you just had back there..it’s coming again. A lot. Sorry about that. Off to swim practice!!”
It blows blows blows blows blows. BLOWS to have to do that to them. She’s 10 years old. I was still acting out how Jane ran with the red ball with my Barbies at the age of 10. Not dealing with this crap. Everyday I send her off to school, I feel like instead of handing her backpack to her, I’m hanging chum buckets around her head and dropping her off in open water. There’s some crazy ass people out there raising some crazy ass kids. Seriously. (I’m secretly wondering if there’s someone writing right now these very thoughts, but instead of me picturing certain people, I’m like, in their line-up too) No matter..I have my own shit to worry about.
I have two great kids that have their own list of issues. They do. Keeps me up at night sometimes.. It does. But, they don’t go around doing weird shit like stealing other peoples things, or peeking in bathroom stalls, or spitting or kicking (unprovoked) or lying . What I mean is, they tow the line at school. They do. They screw up here at times, and at other’s who are family or like family. But that’s normal. We all walk around showing each other our asses in the household like a bunch of fucking baboons, but typically, manage to hold it together in public. Truly, they are pretty good at home too. However, they are so good at school, I’m surprised they haven’t come home one day and had a meltdown of such epic proportions that CNN would have been involved.
I try to teach them manners and right and wrong and what’s flexible and what they just shouldn’t let me catch them doing. I do. And then I drop them off at The Reef with open cans of tuna strung around their neck, and off they GO! They come back from their excursion with “stories”. “SO and SO had to go to the Principal’s office today”. Oh yeah??? “Uh huh...yeah.” So, with my interrogation skills that’d I’ve honed in my years with the CIA..I probe: “So, what’d she do?” Ok...That was sarcastic. Because you can NEVER ASK SUCH A SIMPLE AND DIRECT question to an eight year old boy. You literally have to provide every scenario that another 8 year old could possibly pull in class warranting a trip to the Principals’s office, like flashcards, or a flowchart almost, until the Boy is like “YEAH! YEAH! She did stop listening, and was not participating in the discussion and would not go when told and so, YEAH!! THAT’S IT MOMMY! She DID then pick up a chair and threw it across the room. And then four other teachers had to come and help remove her from the class. But mommy? You left out the part where our class was moved to Mrs. Johnson’s class when they came to get her.”
WHAT? STUPID me!! I haven’t incorporated an Evacuation Plan For When Shit Gets Weird in my list of possible scenarios for my “How Was Your Day At School?” Flashcards for my 2nd grader.
And then, I honestly try the good Motherly route like “Wow, that must have been weird for you..were you scared? How about her? She must have been having a real bad day. Let’s just hope she’s ok and things work out ok for her.” You know, trying to teach compassion and empathy and wah wah wah bwah bwah bwah. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do. Sometimes compelled, even. I mean, I’m really not trying to throw stones here. I’m not.
However. I am also charged with being a Mother FIRST to my assignments. And so, that is why my shit gets riled when others start affecting my kids. My daughter had things stolen from her. In her classroom. Other’s did too. Nice lesson at ten, no? If I need to send even $2 into the class for something, I have to write a check, because of this “problem”. That’s annoying. Do I feel concern for this child? The one who’s stealing? You bet. I do. And I’ve voiced those concerns. As I have about several concerning things that happen. However, I also don’t care to have my children be the practice playthings for a bunch of kids as they work out their social/emotional skills in the meantime. “Uh..Mr. Principal? So and So spit in Girl’s hair today and I believe kicked the girl sitting next to Girl in the shin.” Mr. Principal: “Uh yes, here at School Amazing, we have a diverse population of children of many social and emotional backgrounds stemming ............................ diverse and unique somewhat haphazard and diverse styles of ..................................and we need to be conscious of the needs of these special ............................Thanks for coming in.”
In the meantime, the kids that fly under the radar are being bounced around like the big red rubber things one might see in a Gorilla House at the Zoo when peering through the shit smeared window as these “.............................kids” practice socializing. The shit that they should be learning at HOME.
(ooooooh the VIEW from my SoapBox is amAZing!! I can see Bitter Valley, The River of Contempt, oh and look, it’s Mt. Apathy....as far as the eye can see!!!!)
Oh God...it doesn’t end with the kids. It’s the adults too, because the Boy just came home and informed me that they have now started putting mashed potatoes in the chicken noodle soup. He had a pretty sad look on his face. “You don’t go and mess with chicken noodle soup”, the face says. He goes on to describe “the mashed potatoes have hair in it”. “Hair?” I say. “Yes, hair. Lots of it. I’ve had it just alone before and there is always just these long hairs in it.” He then proceeds to pantomime what it’s like, finding said hairs. It kind of looks like someone pulling a piece of spaghetti out of their mouth really far, before they would slurp it back in. Minus the slurping back in part.
He seems to be ok though, he’s moved on because he’s now asking me what I think the Mad Hatter’s toenails might look like, or Yoda naked...so...that’s kind of weird. But he’s not hurting anybody.
I’m just trying my best with these two. And I hate it when others are messing with their world. I guess that’s part of life though..learning that there’s some bitches out there, and you can either be one or not.