There is something that happens when you have children, at least for me. You want to protect every little fiber of their being from absolutely everything and anything that could harm or hurt them. I swore I would not be one of those helicopter moms that wouldn’t let their child out of arm’s reach and I think I have held true to that – at least since my kids have gotten older. Kamryn does pretty well when it comes to other kids acting out or playing rough. If she really doesn’t like a situation, she just walks away and does something else. However, if another kid hurts her feelings, she loses it. And not just a little, but really loses it; hysterical crying with continuing sobs that last far longer than the actual incident.
Today we went to the park and Kamryn took one of her stuffed dogs that she named Snow White. This little dog isn’t particularly special and she doesn’t really play with it all that much, but today, Snow White was going to the park. Once we got there, Kamryn and Rory took turns throwing Snow White down the slide and off the side of the play structure. All was good. I was quietly watching How To Mod Podge videos on my phone because I am now a crazy-ass crafter. About half way through the instruction of how to avoid bubbles on your Mod Podge projects, I hear a little girl, not my own, scream, “THAT’S NOT HIS NAME!”
I immediately hit pause and walked towards the ruckus. Then I saw Kamryn standing next to the slide with a glare on her face that gave even me a slight chill. A split second later that glare gave way to a quivering lower lip and tears welling up in her eyes. Trying to maintain my mantra of “Thou shall not overbear”, I stood and let her come to me. By the time she got to me she was in full blown freak out mode. I knew she hadn’t been hurt, at least physically, because then Kamryn would have been the one screaming “WE DON’T HIT!” She doesn’t put up with that shit, but she was clearly very upset.
I asked her what happened and she wailed “That girl said my puppy isn’t named Snow White!” I know that it wasn’t what the little girl said to Kamryn that got her so upset, it was how she said it. I now understood what the previous yelling was all about and I was pissed. First of all, the little girl’s mom was sitting right next to the play structure. She had to have heard her little demon seed yelling because I heard it and I was a good 50 feet further away and engrossed in Mod Podge videos! But yet, she did nothing to find out why her daughter was yelling at the top of her lungs at another little girl. Second, when Kamryn walked over to me in hysterics, she walked right past the mother of Tiny Terror and that still didn’t get Mom to get off her ass and see what was up.
This is when I turn my bitch dial to 10. All it would have taken is for the mother to ask if Kamryn was OK to which I would have replied, “Yes, she’s fine.” and given a nice smile for the consideration. She didn’t even look my way. So now I have to be the bad one. I told Kamryn that it didn’t matter what that little girl said and that she was probably only 3 so she didn’t know anything. Kamryn was undeterred in her fit and screamed “She hurt my feelings!” And my heart broke. I knew her feelings were hurt before, but when she said it, I wanted to go over and punch that little girl in the face! Not really – I mean, I would never actually punch a kid, but I’m trying to make a point. I stooped one more level and said, loud enough to ensure I was in Oblivious Mommy’s earshot, “I know she hurt your feelings, but she isn’t your friend and she’ll never be your friend because you only have nice, caring, cute friends.” Ugh…what is wrong with me????
What made this a little bit worse was that I thought I would get a little smile out of Kamryn when I said it. Instead, she just sniffed and nodded her head in agreement. FAIL! I am really trying to work on this, but truth be known, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to sit idly by when I see one of my children so visibly upset. This is where I wish Kamryn was more like me. For those that know me well, you know I really don’t care what other people think of me. I don’t aim to be disliked, but if you don’t like me, c’est la vie. I took Spanish in high school and I’m pretty sure c’est la vie means “F*ck You!”
|Or course I’m posting a picture of him in his sister’s pink sweatshirt. That’s payback for waking me up|