So I lost it yesterday. And not on my own children. And I don't regret one second of it. Too bad they were four. Four years old.
Grady got bullied. At the pool. He's three. And only by a couple of weeks. He was surrounded. By three boys that could not have been older than four. They were hitting, shoving, and had their grubby bully paws all over my kid. I took one look up and saw Grady's tearful face. He's not a crier. I dashed through the barely knee deep water, scooped him up, and yelled. At those boys. I threw in some growling for good measure. I don't feel bad about it. Not one bit. My heart ached. In the instant that I saw Grady's expression, my momma bear kicked in. Hence the growling. He had no idea what to do. He wanted to play. He wanted to be their friend. He couldn't escape. I wanted to clobber those bullies with my giant momma bear claws. But I didn't. I wanted to. And I don't feel one bit bad about it.
Their mothers weren't paying attention. They were chatting, lounging, and texting on their cell phones. They didn't even react when I screamed. At their children. Every other mother did. They congratulated me. Those boys had been bullying other children all day. No one had said a word to them. Their mother's were clueless. They were busy. And not paying attention to their children.
One thing I'm not, is oblivious to the fact that my children are, well...children. They have each had their moments when they hit, push, and shove. But I'm not chatting, lounging, or texting on my cell phone. I'm watching, correcting, and teaching. I'm not a perfect mom. But I'm a good mom. One that watches, instills kindness, and harps upon treating others how you would like to be treated.
I tolerate a lot. Sugar addictions, jumping on the bed, painting anything but the paper, and great big messes. Everywhere. One thing I do not tolerate is purposeful meanness.
I feel sorry for those boys. Sorry that their mothers are too busy chatting, lounging, and texting. They need the attention. And just don't get it. Bullies. This is where it starts. Stop it.