At Least You Can't Say I'm Boring...

Hi everyone. It's been a while and I've got lots to share with you. Hang on for the ride...

This week started out on a topsy-turvy note. Last Sunday as we were starting the week and getting ready for the days ahead, Erin said something completely uncharacteristic and out-of-sorts. She said that she didn't want to go to her daycare. We have had an in-home daycare with a family friend ever since Erin was six weeks old, and this woman and her family (and the children who have gone there with her) are close and are special parts of our extended family. Erin has grown up with these children. She is a very social, very kind, and very loving little girl, and she rarely meets a stranger. Almost instantly when she meets a new little (or not-so-little) person, she struts right up, introduces herself, and starts playing and making a new friend. And she's very close to her daycare provider, so imagine our shock to hear her say that she no longer wanted to go there. Upon pressing her for more information, a story emerged that I was not prepared for. A new little boy (who is eight years old...TWICE ERIN'S AGE) has been "mean" to her. "Mean," as she defines it, includes him telling her to sit in time-out and him saying rude things to her and him "tapping" her tummy (not "hitting" her, but touching her in a manner she does not like). When this news broke, I went off the deep end. And yes, before I continue, I realize that "going off the deep end" is not the proper means by which to handle situations like this. My "deep end"-ery was always kept from Erin, and she saw me simply behave in a loving but direct fashion. We had a talk with her and explained to her that she is a wonderful and lovely child, and that no one has the right to be mean or to touch her in any way that she does not want. And we also told her how to deal with this certain child should he ever again wish to express his pseudo, only-because-he's-older authority. And then I called her daycare provider. I put it to her simply. This is a three-step process. I talk to you, I talk to the child's father, and then I go to the local police department. Boom, boom, and boom, in that order. Her caregiver did explain that the little boy is "just odd" and that he demonstrates strange, attention-seeking behaviors. And she promised to talk to both this child and Erin and to ensure that the situation corrects itself. So far, so good. No more complaints of him being rude or touching her in any manner. And it's a good damned thing, too. I won't hesitate to take any steps necessary to protect my child from being bullied. While I realize that children need to learn how to stand up for themselves and how to reconcile their own proper behaviors against those of a bully, I also realize that my child is only four years old. At this age, she lacks the capacity and the faculties to adequately defend herself from being bullied, especially by a child twice her age. I am not without compassion. Please don't misunderstand. As more details about this child are made clear to me, it's becoming more obvious to me that something's inadequate about his life. He's crying out for attention and is seeking recognition. That breaks my heart, and my prayers are with him. But I will not tolerate another child's poor behavior adversely impacting the health and physical/emotional well-being of my daughter. She will not be forced to suffer because another child has personal issues. Period. I don't think I'm feeling anywhere near "out of sorts" here. It's a natural reaction for a parent to want to protect her child. This little boy is probably not a serious threat. Kids will be kids, and the situation was expediently addressed and rectified. However, I see in myself the capacity to absolutely breathe fire for my little girl. I am not a violent or mean person. I abhor violence. I can't hear about it, I can't watch it on television....I can't surround myself with it in any fashion. But mark my words. If I ever, EVER got wind of anyone laying a finger on her to harm her, so help me God, I'd end that person's life with my own bare hands. Again, I realize that this is normal...every decent parent feels this way about his or her own child. And I realize that the time will come (sooner than I want it to) where I will have to leave Erin to her own devices. She will never learn how to deal with problematic, harmful people if she is not properly exposed to difficult situations and shown the proper manner in which to handle them. However, at the age of four, the "proper manner in which to handle" this situation is for Curtis and I to remove her from its path. And that's what we've done.

All of this hulla-baloo affected me doubly. Not only did I have the fierce, "Mama Bear" reaction, I also had a personal reaction. At the age of 34, I am still unable to get past years of horrible, emotionally violent bullying that I experienced when I was younger. It's a long story and I'll not go in to it here (trust me...you don't want to hear it and I don't want to deal with an evening of torrential tears, and that's exactly what will happen if I walk down that road with you). During a relatively short (but very painful) time in my life, I was subjected to extreme bullying at the hands of children of privilege. I was the only middle-class student at a private, Catholic school. I was also the only fat one...the only not-so-pretty one...and thus, I was an easy mark. My family had some significant personal trauma during one particular year, and that was also the year that the bullying was the worst. And on Monday, as I was dealing with this situation with Erin, I completely collapsed emotionally. The entire trauma of that horrible time came flooding back to me. Years later, I still suffer. I never developed self-esteem, thanks in part to not only the children who harmed me but the adults cognizant of it who stood idly by and let it happen. I am 34, for fuck's sake. The emotional issues I continue to face should be a part of my long-ago. They aren't. I thought and worried about Erin becoming like me, and I actually raised my voice to Curtis (which I never do - we almost never get in heated talks or arguments) and I said, "LOOK AT ME. Is THIS what you want your daughter to become? Overweight, eating disorder, no sense of self-esteem." It was horrible. Not one of my better days. Not by a longshot. As the days have passed, I've come down from that horrible heightened sadness and I am OK again. But it's continued proof of that which I hide and try to bury beneath deadlines and work and schedules and friends and life in general...I still hurt. As long as I don't think about that time or I don't see any of those people, I am just fine. But the second I encounter a memory or a person from that time, oh God, it all just breaks down around me. And that's exactly what happened to me on Monday.

I have issues, but at least you can't say I'm boring.

Today, our team leader retired. In a relatively short time, I've come to know and really, really care for her. It's hard to say farewell, but I am so thrilled for her as she starts this brand new chapter of her life. I used to think that in my field (human resources), hiring new people was the "coolest part." Not any longer. The most wonderful thing we see is people leaving and starting brand new chapters of their lives in retirement. Those we hear from always laugh and say, "I am so busy now! How did I ever find time to work?" And that's a wonderful thing. We had a little luncheon for her yesterday, and our former HR Director came back for it. He's someone EXCEPTIONALLY dear to my heart, and it was beyond wonderful to see him again. He gave me a long and very tight hug, and it felt so good to just see him and laugh with him and be around his energy again. He was definitely a one-of-a-kind. Life is a wonderful thing. God sends people down our pathways that affect and influence us, and whose effects remain part of our spirits years after the woods "good bye" have been uttered.

I may be a little sappy and emotional, but at least you can't say I'm boring.

It's been hotter than Satan's kitchen on fire this week, and wouldn't you know it, the air conditioning in MY BRAND NEW CAR decided that this week would be a fun and exciting time to die. Conk out. Expire. Die. And "die" was what I wanted to do yesterday as I drove all the way from Kansas City to Gardner IN MY HOT AND STUFFY CAR. I had a dinner meeting with another sorority adviser and during dinner, a huge storm blew in. As I walked in the pouring rain and pitch black dark to my car, I got soaked. To the bone. I couldn't see my very black car in the very black darkness, and add my visual inabilities to my haste to get in my car and dry off, and then envision me SMACKING MY FOREHEAD WITH MY CAR DOOR. Yes, I've got a shiner on my noggin above my left eye, boys and girls. Oh, and did I mention that my fucking air conditioner KICKED BACK ON AS I DROVE HOME FROM DINNER?!? Yep, I'm wet and soaked to the bone and it's cold outside and my head hurts like fuck and the air decides to resume functioning. What could possibly BE more delightful?

You could say that my luck sucks ass this week, but at least you can't say I'm boring.

I found something very cool today. I'm practically all caught up at the office (which is NO SMALL FEAT given the fact that I was on leave, got hammered with work, and lost all access to decent and functioning technology, all within two weeks' time), and I got to browsing sites online. I found one that I just absolutely love. It's called BookCrossing (www.bookcrossing.com), and it's basically a worldwide group of people leaving old, already-read books behind for others to discover and read. I've already "set a book free" (to quote my new friends at BookCrossing), and I am really interested in seeing who finds it and how far out into the world it will go.

You can call me a geek, but at least you can't say I'm boring.

And you can also call me "gone." Dinner time. Be well, everyone.