Though most aspects of having to quarantine have sucked, one thing that has blossomed is my kids’ ability to play outside and entertain themselves with their imaginations. Normally I have the problem of over scheduling them with all sorts of park district activities and camps because I have that overwhelming feeling of giving them a chance at trying everything so that they could discover their passions. Turns out, their jam is simply playing with giant sticks outside and pretending to run a ninja training camp, or putting together a make shift soccer tournament with neighborhood friends in our backyard. I love hearing the kids playing outside (much better than hearing them inside). They can be out there for hours, and when they come in and “amoy araw” (smell like the sun), I feel like I was a good mom by not hovering over them and dictating their every move.
I typically keep the door open so I could hear if there is any bad language (usually it’s coming from my mouth, so whatever they say is peanuts). If I hear anyone saying ‘shut up’ or ‘stupid,’ it takes everything in me to not call them rude little assholes. I also listen for crying and occasionally peak out the window to see if everyone is wearing their masks and generally playing nicely with each other.
One afternoon the kids were playing soccer with some friends that stopped by, and I heard Evan crying. I could tell it was a for real hurt cry, not a bitch boy cry. I opened the door and saw Evan on the ground, some kids surrounding him, and another boy and Reese separated from him. He ran into the house crying, holding his crotch and screaming that one of the kids whipped a tennis ball at his “titi” (penis). I was not having it. I came outside and immediately Reese steps in front of me and says, “Please Mom, don’t do it, don’t say anything. It was an accident, he was just defending me from Evan.” I gave her a ‘move, bitch, get out the way’ gesture, and I called the boy to me. I asked the boy, “Did you just throw a tennis ball at Evan’s privates?” He nodded and said, “But it was an accident, I have terrible aim. I didn’t mean to hit him there.” I responded, “Oh, so you were purposely trying to hit him with a ball though? That’s no better. You are bigger and older than him. If you can’t play nicely here, you are not welcome here. That goes for all of you (and I pointed at all the terrified kids looking on). You have one more chance here, and if I so much as hear a bad word, see a mean touch, or am told of an aggressive behavior, you are out of here and I’m calling your parents. Do you hear me? You’re not about to come up on my property and hit my kid. Not here, not anywhere. Got it?” He nodded. I finished with, “And another thing. If you think this girl needs “defending,” let me tell you something. She is stronger and faster than any kid in this yard. She doesn’t need defending, she can hold her own.” I then peaked to the side of my yard and saw my neighbor right outside the fence listening, and immediately I felt like, oh shit, another adult just heard me rip this kid a new one. I used my nice voice and said, “Oh hey, didn’t see you there. You can come in with your kid and play now, I’m finished here.” I’m sure I looked and sounded like a crazed lunatic. Plus, at the time I was trying (and failing) to rock the middle hair part, which just makes my face look harsher than usual. And who knows when the last time I washed my hair was, so it was surely oily as hell. So I basically looked like Severus Snape from Harry Potter doing some dark arts shit out there on the kids.
Reese came into the house all frustrated and giving me attitude. I said, “What are you all huffing and puffing about?” She responded, “You embarrassed him and you embarrassed me too.” Taken aback, I replied, “Why, because I defended my family member, who happens to be your family member too? He’s your little brother, you’re supposed to protect him. Dude, he whipped a ball at his FRICKING DICK, you better believe I’m going to say something.” She gasped so loudly, as if sucking all the air out of the room. Jamie said, “ELY! Language!” I backpedaled, “Ugh, fine. Penis! Penis, penis, penis, he hit him in the penis! I just did what any mother would do and stuck up for him. And if you think that’s embarrassing, ha! Just wait.” She stormed upstairs like the tween she is. Jamie said, “Well, I would have handled that differently.” Oh really? Well then maybe don’t be taking a shit everytime something important happens around here. Seriously, how does his colon know when to get him out of all these uncomfortable conversations?
Eventually the tensions subsided and the kids resumed playing. The boy apologized again to Evan, and they went on as if nothing happened (adults could learn so much from kids). I don’t think I scarred the boy, just maybe set some clear boundaries. I definitely don’t want to be the cranky mom in the neighborhood, but I’m certainly not the cool one either, especially after that little ditty. Evan appreciated me stepping in, as he can often be a little passive. But I think it’s crazy that Reese was embarrassed of me. I suppose if something like that happens again, I could always just hose the kids down until they are out of my yard. That’s not embarrassing, right?
So a few life lessons here. First, stand up for your family members and friends. The kids that were watching hopefully learned that it is okay to speak up for those who can’t speak up for or defend themselves. Second, speaking up against a behavior doesn’t mean friendships have to end, it just means boundaries are being defined. So define them and move on as best you can. Third, don’t be embarrassed of your parents unless they’re hammered, streaking, or hammered and streaking. Fourth, take a shit during the mornings while the kids are at school so you can be an active part of their drama while they’re home. And finally, don’t part your hair in the middle if you already have a naturally bitchy face because you will just scare away your neighbors. On second thought, maybe I should keep a middle part just to keep these kids in line; between my RBF and this ridiculous hair part, no one would dare mess with my kids.
The Mundame 