The Mommy Trenches
Welcome to "The Gods Are Bored!" If it's mothering you need, look no further! We can provide you with a Goddess perfectly suited to you. Remember: Jesus had to bow his head and close his eyes to communicate with his father, but he could look his mama right in the eye.
My daughter The Spare is something like a live wire. Apparently, last weekend she somehow angered another live wire student at her school. Heated words were exchanged. The other live wire student is a male. He told The Spare that he was going to get his cousin to beat her up. He painted this cousin in terms that made her sound like a steam roller on steroids.
And so The Spare was scared.
Friday afternoon The Spare called me on the phone from her last period class at school. This did not please me. She should have been paying attention to the teacher. Instead she was worrying about what would happen after school. She wanted me to pick her up early.
I did not agree to this. Instead I drove up to the school and got a good parking space where I could see everyone who exited the building.
The Spare's eyes lit up with relief when she saw me, and she ran to the car. "Let's go," she said.
But I wouldn't go.
I told The Spare I intended to have a word with the young live wire who had threatened her, and I would not leave until I spoke to him.
Reader, you can just imagine. The Spare wanted to kill me.
We all have been embarrassed by our moms in one way or another, usually when we're teenagers. It's not until years later that we understand the motivation behind what our moms were trying to do. I was aware of this as I stood there in front of the school, but I kept standing anyway, even after The Spare became teary and tried physically to force me into the car.
Finally the young miscreant in question emerged from the school building and strode defiantly into his posse of rougnecks. I walked across the lawn. He tried to hide from me, but when he saw that it was impossible he just stood there.
In measured tones I told him that I expected my daughter to be able to walk around town without feeling threatened, was I making myself clear? Apparently so, because even though he got a little lippy with me, I sure have heard worse from my students without getting riled. I had the final word and walked away.
Spare cursed me and berated me all the way home. To her way of seeing it, I'd ruined her life, humiliated her in front of her "friends." Her status would never recover. All I said in return was that no one was going to threaten my daughter, and that I'd decided the easiest way to deal with the threat was to address it myself without bringing in authorities who are already fed up to the plimsol line with the young miscreant in question.
Once we got home, Spare slammed the door in my face and went to her room to sulk. I decided it was a lovely afternoon for a walk, so I went to the library and the grocery store, and got my wedding ring cleaned at the jeweler's, and even glared across Main Street at the miscreant, who slunk away, (hopefully) defeated.
By the time I got home, Spare had ascertained that the people who overheard me on the schoolground took her side and berated the miscreant themselves. So she was no longer angry at me. Even if she had been, I was cool with what I did. My daughter is not going to slink around in fear, and I'm not going to go whining to some guidance counselor about unconfirmed threats.
When I can handle it myself, I will. When I can't I'll get help. Either way, my daughter will walk safely through this borough. Because I'm her mom.
Labels: Heir and Spare