June 15: I will mess you up

Before the school year closed, both Katie and Jack brought home backpackfuls of papers and projects every day (can we all say “tomorrow’s garbage”?). The kindergarteners had even more stuff; earlier in the week we were asked to send in grocery bags in which they’d bring the rest of it home. The most important thing was their reading notebook, which shows their progress in learning words throughout the school year. We’ve been impressed with the reading skills Jack acquired in kindergarten so I was eager to see this item, especially.

On Wednesday Jack took quite a while walking home from the bus stop. The yearbooks had been distributed and I figured he was asking his bus friends to sign his (he was). But when he finally rounded the corner and got closer to the house I could see he was upset. He was trying to be a big boy but his chin was quivering and I could see his eyes were about to spill over with tears. I asked what was wrong and he said, “I lost my bag. I put it down and it’s gone. I looked everywhere.” He had his backpack on so I didn’t know what bag he was talking about. This upset him even more, that he had to explain it further to me.

Then I remembered the all-important kindergarten bag and what a big deal it was when Katie brought hers home two years ago. I said, “Well, let’s go look for it,” and Jack brightened—I think he expected me to say it didn’t matter. Hey kid, I’m not pure evil.

We hopped in the car and drove up to the bus stop. He pointed to where he had left the bag when his friends were signing each other’s yearbooks, and just like he said, there was no bag. We walked around and looked behind trees and plants. The brick bench thingie. A small fence. Nothing.

And that’s when I turned into Mama Bear. The sadder Jack got, the angrier I got. I thought, “How DARE some little $#!+-head kid steal Jack’s stuff!” There are about 30 kids at that bus stop, so I knew there wasn’t much chance I’d find the guilty little Goldilocked bastard and be able to hurt him. (Notice, I assume it’s a boy. Girls don’t do that stuff, right?)

I hoped maybe a parent saw the bag, recognized its importance, and picked it up to deliver to us. Maybe they would even thoughtfully frame each item.

I was just about to comfort Jack and tell him there was nothing we could do when I noticed some stuff piled up around someone’s garbage can at the curb. I told him to check it even though it looked like recycling. He ran over and said, “No…” and then screamed, “Wait, here it is! I found my bag! Someone thought it was garbage and put it by the garbage but I found it!”

And that’s when I transformed from Big Bitchy Bear™ back into Jen.

There hasn’t been a lot of opportunity for our kids to be hurt by other kids. Part of this is simply because their friends are nice, and part is because they’re young. I’m thankful for this but know there is probably plenty of this kind of intervention in our future. I hope when the time comes that I’m able to deal with it as a rational parent, somewhere between the Mama Bear and the mom who wants her kids to just leave her alone until the drugs start taking effect.

Wish me luck, won’t you?