What a crazy week, boys and girls. Financial bailouts with imaginary money, snakes battling other snakes in order to become the next president or prime minister... Insane! I've been glued to news channels and financial/political blogs, trying to grow my intelligence a little. With more than a decade of stay-at-home-momming under my belt, I'm experiencing a little bit (or maybe quite a lot) of brain rot.
What I've realized is that I'm not feeling so smart, but I can recite quotes from websites which make me seem smart. More important than actually having a high IQ is giving the impression of one.
The editor of Mothering magazine was quick to realize how north my solar panels face, and rejected my idea for an article. I'm still, and fear I may always be, a wannabe writer. Thankfully this is the age of the internet and the internet has blogging. I can still technically be published and not have any talent whatsoever. What a great world we live in.
We've had some bullying problems at school, and my mama bear mentality has been growling to be let out of her cage.
Oh, wait. That's my stomach. It wants chocolate. I shall not give in.
Yet.
A boy in Intrepid's class - who has been trouble for my son and others for about three years now - punched him in the hearing aid and it temporarily stopped working. When Intrepid told him off and started getting teary about the potential of losing some precious hearing while sending the aid off to be repaired, the boy laughed at him and mocked his crying. "Aww, poor baby Intwepid, cwying wiffout his heawing aid! Well too bad for you. Hahaha!"
So do you know what my normally level-headed, gentle child did?
I'm grinning with sheer glee as I recount this. I really am.
Intrepid chased him down and kicked the snot out of him. Well, at the very least he roughed him up a bit and scared him into an apology and a renewed friendship (the boy was teasing him every day before this).
I'm normally an extreme pacifist. I don't condone violence of any sort. I don't like it when my children fight and I give them consequences for hitting. I don't spank them or cause them any intentional physical harm. I expect, from the way they're raised, that they'll treat others with the same respect. It's my wish that they'll use words instead of fists to fight their battles, and that most battles will be solved by using those bright little noggins of theirs.
But I would be flat out lying if I didn't say I'm very proud that my eleven-year-old decided not to put up with it any longer and instead took some action - the only action he felt he could take after trying everything else first.
Of course we told Intrepid all the right things. Geekster and I sat down and talked about other ways he could have handled it, and how he needed to make some amends for what he'd done. Yadda yadda, blah blah blah, parent crap talk.
The truth is my son stuck up for himself after three years of being pushed around. He put the smack down, yo. So between you, me, and every indexing site out there scanning my blog, I'm happy he didn't just walk away this time, holding his painful ear and wondering if his hearing aid would start working again. He's a champion for all the kids with hearing aids, glasses, walkers and everyone else who's an immediate target for bullies. He's a special needs god, damnit.
I once did the same thing after years of being picked on in school. In grade 5, I threw a girl onto the ground and wrecked her brand new acid wash jean jacket.
Oh yes, I went there. I went there and I went there big time. She never bothered me again, either. I let her smell what the Maven is cooking. Somewhere in my genetic code lies a dormant warrior, hibernating underneath the "doormat" banner designed for my forehead. I passed that warrior onto Intrepid, who bared his horns and fangs when he needed to. I don't want to raise a bully, but I don't want a pushover, either. There's a fine balance somewhere, and I think he may have found it.
Now back into mother mode. The mature, sensible thirty-two-year-old who is in charge of instilling values and morals into the little minds I'm growing.
I would turn this into an article, but I somehow don't think it would go over very well in the major publications. Only warped people like me would enjoy it, and there aren't enough deranged folks out warrant an entire magazine.
Thankfully we have blogs for that.
What I've realized is that I'm not feeling so smart, but I can recite quotes from websites which make me seem smart. More important than actually having a high IQ is giving the impression of one.
The editor of Mothering magazine was quick to realize how north my solar panels face, and rejected my idea for an article. I'm still, and fear I may always be, a wannabe writer. Thankfully this is the age of the internet and the internet has blogging. I can still technically be published and not have any talent whatsoever. What a great world we live in.
We've had some bullying problems at school, and my mama bear mentality has been growling to be let out of her cage.
Oh, wait. That's my stomach. It wants chocolate. I shall not give in.
Yet.
A boy in Intrepid's class - who has been trouble for my son and others for about three years now - punched him in the hearing aid and it temporarily stopped working. When Intrepid told him off and started getting teary about the potential of losing some precious hearing while sending the aid off to be repaired, the boy laughed at him and mocked his crying. "Aww, poor baby Intwepid, cwying wiffout his heawing aid! Well too bad for you. Hahaha!"
So do you know what my normally level-headed, gentle child did?
I'm grinning with sheer glee as I recount this. I really am.
Intrepid chased him down and kicked the snot out of him. Well, at the very least he roughed him up a bit and scared him into an apology and a renewed friendship (the boy was teasing him every day before this).
I'm normally an extreme pacifist. I don't condone violence of any sort. I don't like it when my children fight and I give them consequences for hitting. I don't spank them or cause them any intentional physical harm. I expect, from the way they're raised, that they'll treat others with the same respect. It's my wish that they'll use words instead of fists to fight their battles, and that most battles will be solved by using those bright little noggins of theirs.
But I would be flat out lying if I didn't say I'm very proud that my eleven-year-old decided not to put up with it any longer and instead took some action - the only action he felt he could take after trying everything else first.
Of course we told Intrepid all the right things. Geekster and I sat down and talked about other ways he could have handled it, and how he needed to make some amends for what he'd done. Yadda yadda, blah blah blah, parent crap talk.
The truth is my son stuck up for himself after three years of being pushed around. He put the smack down, yo. So between you, me, and every indexing site out there scanning my blog, I'm happy he didn't just walk away this time, holding his painful ear and wondering if his hearing aid would start working again. He's a champion for all the kids with hearing aids, glasses, walkers and everyone else who's an immediate target for bullies. He's a special needs god, damnit.
I once did the same thing after years of being picked on in school. In grade 5, I threw a girl onto the ground and wrecked her brand new acid wash jean jacket.
Oh yes, I went there. I went there and I went there big time. She never bothered me again, either. I let her smell what the Maven is cooking. Somewhere in my genetic code lies a dormant warrior, hibernating underneath the "doormat" banner designed for my forehead. I passed that warrior onto Intrepid, who bared his horns and fangs when he needed to. I don't want to raise a bully, but I don't want a pushover, either. There's a fine balance somewhere, and I think he may have found it.
Now back into mother mode. The mature, sensible thirty-two-year-old who is in charge of instilling values and morals into the little minds I'm growing.
I would turn this into an article, but I somehow don't think it would go over very well in the major publications. Only warped people like me would enjoy it, and there aren't enough deranged folks out warrant an entire magazine.
Thankfully we have blogs for that.