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This evening I was rushing around doing my many preparations for Thanksgiving. I was cranky as I moved through each task, conquering things one by one. My daughter has been quite ill with the latest bug and so was no help, and my youngest was determined to aggravate me as much as possible, complete with locking me out of the house in bare feet.
The sweet potatoes were done, the pie baked, the living room rugs steamed and the laundry pretty much caught up. As I stood in the kitchen chopping things for the stuffing, my personal favorite, I looked out on the deck. There were snowflakes falling quietly in the early darkness of winter. With it came a peace that spread over the house, a feeling that everything would be ok. Things started to fall into place after that and I looked out like a child in wonder at the first snow of the season. I realized what precious time I had as I cooked, talking to my son about this and that, sharing some time together in the warmth of the kitchen.
It’s amazing just when I needed it so badly, that the quiet whispers of the snow found me and with each beautiful snowflake carried all that I needed to hear. I think tonight, when the house is quiet, I might pull a chair out onto the deck and wrapped in warm blankets, sit quietly if just for a moment, under this beautiful sky.
Today while sitting with my son going over the days events, there was a knock at the door. It was a neighbor boy, one I don’t know well but have seen across the street. My son went outside and they chatted for a minute and then the boy left.
He was looking for his sister who sits at my son’s table at lunch. She was due home with a friend and never showed up. The mother had no idea where she was and she and her small son were starting to panic. She had called the police per the son and had not heard a thing. The son came back to our home to get some phone numbers of friends, and through the diligent efforts of this young child, I could sense the state of the mother. It was as if I could feel her fear growing deep within me and the helplessness she was feeling at that very moment.
Kids forget, we did I know. They don’t think about the angst they cause parents. We did it to our parents I’m sure. Still our world is different now and the dangers that await much more prevalent. I have not heard if she is home again and I can only hope she strayed to a friends house and forgot to call home. I feel badly as I’m leaving for work soon. It’s dark now and if the girl is not home the mother’s fears will only grow more intense.
It amazed me how quickly my gut started to hurt after that child knocked at my door. It was as if there was a universal energy among us as mothers that made me want to charge out and find this child. When I was a child a village truly did raise a child, it wasn’t just a cool idea. Everyone looked out for us and everyone watched what we did. If we stepped out of line we answered often to more than just the parent, but we were safe. We have forgotten how to watch out for one another in this busy world. It’s time to start remembering.
Last night my son and I sat talking about his day. Yesterday he arrived home with his friend who lives down the hill, who had hopped his bus home. On the bus ride one of the kids pulled out a bebe gun, painted to look like a real gun, pointed it in my son’s face and said “I’m going to shoot you.” My son stood up, now twice as big as this kid, and told him if he did, he would break the gun over his head. The kid backed down and then went after Peter’s friend who is not big and who is afraid of bullies. He shot him several times with babes, thankfully, and is now suspended from school. The friend is now afraid that the bully’s friends will retaliate. My son will be the one on that bus today, not the kid who was shot and I can’t help wondering what my son will have to tell me when he arrives home.
I thought about it all this morning over my coffee. What if that had been a real gun, not just a bebe gun? My son might be gone. The bullies that we experienced when we were in school are nothing like the bullies now. These kids are vicious, both girls and boys, and have no heart or compassion. My son is intelligent and very perceptive and I have taught him how to handle them by confronting their behavior and embarrassing them. It is working so far. Fortunately my son is also very big for his age but he is not a fighter. I doubt very much if he would have followed through with this threat about breaking the gun over the kids head, but most likely he would have taken it from him.
Bullies will always be an ongoing problem. They’ve been with us since the beginning of time I suspect. The problem is becoming very serious in a culture that has become increasingly violent. Not one day goes by in school for my son without an encounter of some sort with these kids. I have taught my kids early on how you treat other people and how you don’t treat them. I have taught them what is acceptable and what is unacceptable. I have taught them to be compassionate and treat all people equally. We as parents need to take a good look at the schools and at our children. We need to take a good look at the entertainment industry and how violent it has become. I thought I’d never hear myself say these words but look at the games these kids play. What are we teaching them?
Listen to your kids. Talk to them all the time. You might find out some very interesting things. My son is in the 8th grade. The big word they all use is rape. That’s something to think about.
