Ivy came running into the house, snot on her upper lip, crying and talking gibberish. I held her tight for a while and let her emotions release. Then I asked her if she was hurt. She said yes. Two boys pushed her into the house wall and scraped her skin. I listened all the way. Then I calmly got up and put my shoes on. She asked me somewhat surprised “what are you doing?” I told her I’m going to talk to the boys.
The little girl across the street came running. I asked her if she saw what happened. She said the boys pushed Ivy. The story corroborated. The boy who pushed her was passing by pretending he didn’t see us. I called him to ask him what happened. He started talking frantically that he didn’t hurt ivy that he didn’t do anything. That irritated me. The usual lies. What did I expect? A full confession? It is not the first time we try to comunicate to no avail. I mean we have not raport, no relationship outside of the kids playing together. But I’m now thinking we should. I hear what they say, how they play, but they never really take note of us, the adults. Or so I think.
All kids gather around. I keep my posture humble, inviting. The other kids tell me the same story. The two boys who pushed ivy, admit nothing. I yell “HEY!” That thunder voice I have and I try to tame. I am a lion. They all froze. Finally silence. The boys ramble loud usually, trying to get away with whatever they did, because it is impossible to get a word in edgewise. But as I draw their attention I tell them that we all make mistakes. I make mistakes. My kids make mistakes. Their parents make mistakes. But it is important to own your mistake. To admit when you did something wrong and apologize if you can. That is it. No other consequences necessary at this time. I bet kids don’t confess because they are afraid of the consequences. But in my house, when Jackie was young, we had serious consequences for three incidents: disrespect, disobedience and dishonesty (aka lying).
After thundering a short “hey” I used my low, rumbling voice, the one that comes from the deep, because I was getting rather furious, but in order to make my point across I needed to use few words and give clear direction. To my relief and surprise they admitted their fault and apologized.
The remaining kids were all cheerful after that. It does seem that often they are left to fend for themselves. It is a good life skill but there are times when we wish someone with authority would step in and bring justice.
As a kid I remember my dad setting the record straight when an older boy was bullying my brother. That boy had the nerve to slap my brother in front of my dad. So my dad slapped that bully right back, saying that if he ever dares to hit my brother he will never forget his consequence. Why was it so unheard of to have a father defend his son? So few fathers had that type of presence of mind or authority. Was it too trivial to step in? Were there too many conflicting stories? My parents never had to come outside and scold any other kid since then. Though there were a few scary bullies that I avoided because one never knew what set them off.
I felt compelled to tell the other moms on the street about the incident. I don’t know if any of them yell at their kids. All kids were pretty wide-eyed. Frozen on their feet. I was not begging for their cooperation. I was not accusing them. I was not expecting much. I needed to set clear boundaries because I have seen how things derail if we ignore the first shove.
I told the moms I don’t have any illusion about being a popular mom. I have no desire for such perception. I do expect a bit more respect from the kids. And you know, fear and respect go hand in hand. I do not plan to ever lay a finger on any of them, but if one day I have to pull one off by their arm because they were hurting my kids, and bring them to there parents’ door, I hope I have enough strength to lift them off the ground.
Boundaries are painful to set and reset. I am so tired of hoping each kid’s respective parents take responsibility and action, but sometimes I think those parents are numb or feel hopeless too. So what shall I do but stay true to my values and beliefs and speak the truth.
The response was unanimously positive. I was worried that moms will decline my intervention saying that they’ll scold their own kids as needed. I did take a leak of faith, because we earned some rights in each other’s lives. And by now we know each other more.
But even if I get backlash, Ivy’s reaction was priceless. “Thank you, mommy!” Followed by the tightest longest hug. I defended my daughter and she knew it. Tonight she said multiple times she is so happy that I’m her mom. And that she loves me. Wow. Protecting our kids, defending them. Stepping into uncomfortable situations, they see us, and feel us. Often times when they bring up the quarrels among friends, we take an objective stance. And poke holes at their arguments, and try to show them a different perspective. At home, we comfort them but we don’t take their side. I often wondered about that. Why do we do it so instinctively. I mean, we tell them we love them and trust them but we never pile on a bad situation and we play the opposing advocate. I hoped to teach them empathy, perspective and so on. It’s too easy to wallow in victim hood and blame everyone else. It takes practice to listen, to ask question and pursue the truth with curiosity.
But because this was not the first time, I had to take a clear stance. And tonight was the time to defend my daughter and nothing else.