Guys. Listen. I came really close to losing my shit, this past week. I just wanted to smash everything. The kind of unbridled, all consuming, blazing rage that can only be ignited, when your child has been hurt. The pen I was holding? I wanted to snap it. The chair I was sitting in? Kick it over. The desk I was sitting at? F**king flip it. I wanted to annihilate everything. You truly don't know how psychotic you are, until your mother bear instinct switch gets flipped. I mean, Anxiety constantly reminds me that I can be irrational. But, this is a whole.....other...level.
This is what happened. I am having an average day, at work. You know, in the groove, getting things done, listening to my murder podcast. Generally, a typical morning. Then, my phone buzzes with a new email. At first, when I see that it is from the school, I don't think anything of it. My littles go to different schools. No one blows up my phone, as much as elementary school. My calendar is packed with spirit days, bake sales, library days and and field trips. Anxiety loves planning ahead, but she is constantly reminding me that we are going to drop the ball somewhere. Why does she always have to be so indecisive? Anyhow, an email from the school was not out of the ordinary. What did catch my eye, was that the subject line was my baby's name. Right then and there I knew, good or bad, this was not going to be typical day.
I open the email, still clinging to the hope that it will be filled with praises for my beautiful boy. This sweet child, who gets up everyday excited to go to school. Who says goodbye to all of the kids and teachers, by name, when he leaves. This little, who has only been in school for 3 months and on the planet for only 4 years. But, this was not that type of email. It started by saying that there was an incident in the schoolyard. It then went on to explain that my child was held down by four other children. They took off his boots and his hat and proceeded to hit him. FFS. My fingers are trembling with rage, as I write this. Honestly, what in the actual f**k!?!?! We are talking about four-year-old's. Someone please explain to me, when kindergarten turned into Lord of the Flies. This playground gang mentality is not GD okay! Four, four-year-old's, holding down another, and hitting him, with their hands that barely look older than baby hands. It is a kindergarten calamity!
B is for bullying. And bullying is bullshit. Bu-bu-bu-bullshit. Maybe this should be added to weekly word list, in the curriculum. Starting with the kindy’s, apparently. Luckily, my husband was the one who went to get him, at the end of the day. It gave me time to speak with the teacher who said that he wasn't physically hurt and that he didn't cry. I fought down the urge to go to the school and toss around JK's. I let out the few angry tears, that I couldn't hold back, because I couldn't be there to protect him. And then, I got my shit together. By time I got home, I was ready to explain to him about nobody being allowed to touch him, hurt him, gang up on him. That he should always tell someone. And, most of all, that his Dad and I always have his back.
Bullying is bullshit. Bu-bu-bu-bullshit.
Does Mommy need to lose her shit?
Not this week.