I am officially freaked the freak out.
Today was perfectly gorgeous, what with that Arctic cold front that blew through yesterday and plunged our temperatures down from 100+ ° F. to a bone-chilling 93°. (That’s about 38 C down to 34 C for you metricians.) Naturally, since we hadn’t been able to be in sunlight for the last 6 weeks, I decided to take the boys to the city, to a park on the southwest side, and let them romp & play.
It was all good for about 45 minutes. There were a number of elementary age kids playing and a few older ones sitting around looking tragically criminal. I was helping Littlest Boy in his climbing adventures; really just spotting him for my own peace of mind as the little lemur can climb up a brick wall if I let him.
Bigglest Boy was about 50 yards away climbing a tree, and Middlest Boy was chatting up some little girl (and that kid’s got some game, if I’m any judge of 5-year-olds) and all seemed peaceful.
I was just getting Littlest Boy off of the playscape when I heard something and turned to see five or six of the older kids around Bigglest Boy. One of them, who looked about 16 and quite chunky, turned and punched Bigglest Boy right smack in the face. I yelled “Hey!” as Bigglest Boy went down, screaming and holding his hands over his face. The other kids swarmed over him, looking for all the world like a pack of jackals. I left Littlest Boy, yelling at Middlest Boy to stay with his little brother, and covered the 50 yards to Bigglest Boy in about 5 seconds.
“Get off of him!” I said, pulling on the kid who punched him.
“Fuck you, bitch,” he said, not turning his head around to look at me.
Something red, like a curtain of rage, went over my vision. “Fuck me?” I said, with a little laugh. “I don’t think so. Fuck you!” I took a running leap, and jumped on him, grabbing him by the ears, face, hair, and I think a bit of his nose, twisting his head around and shoving his body into the dirt.
I took a few punches from him, and he probably outweighed me by a good fifty pounds or more, but between my momentum and my hands in the soft fleshy parts of his face, I got him off of Bigglest Boy and pulled him away.
A few moms and a dad came running and got both of us separated and to our feet. Bigglest Boy was screaming with his hands over his eyes. I let them know what I saw; the punk’s nose was bleeding and I had a slight cut on my lip. I got Bigglest Boy out of the way and didn’t really look back to see what damage I might have done.
I was gathering up kids and our supplies when a mom cornered me.
“You hit my kid?” she asked.
“He punched my kid. In the eyes – ” I started.
“That don’t make no difference. You hit my kid and I press charges.”
“Bring it,” I said. “No, wait, let me help.” I dug out my cell phone. “Here. I’ll dial the police for you. You tell them what happened, in your own words. Don’t leave anything out,” I added.
“I don’t need no police,” she said, “you just stay the fuck away from my kid.”
I looked at her. “I bet you don’t,” I said, my voice low. “If a 160 lb teenage kid hits my kid in the eye, I will chew through you, your family, and six cops just to stop him. Not only is your kid bigger and meaner than mine, he’s stupid as you if he thinks I’m scared of either one of you.”
“He ain’t no teenage, he only eleven,” she argued.
“Well, then he’s fat, too.” I turned and immediately got everyone into the van. I was seething. I called Monsieur and he set up for us to meet at the pedi’s office.
Turns out that kid, the eleven-year-old, is on probation. He isn’t allowed in the parks without his mom being there, and she wasn’t even anywhere near him when he punched Bigglest Boy. I should have called the cops.
Bigglest Boy has a patch on his eye and we’ll have to put this anti-biotic cream goo into it twice a day. It’s agony for him, he can’t see or even open the eye because it’s so sensitive to light, but the doctor says he should be okay in a couple of days.
I’m still furious.
I don’t think Bigglest Boy knew what I was capable of. Actually, I don’t think I knew, either. But the kids sure are responsive and obedient tonight.
I have bruises on my arm where someone grabbed me, a cut on my lip and I’m sore as hell. And I am freaking.
15 comments:
you're awesome! It's so important to know what you can do!
more power to ya!
You are now officially a Southern lady. No one messes with a Southern woman. Why? She may sugar talk you with the best of them, but she can also kick your ass with the best of them.
Congrats!
Best wishes for a quick recovery all around....
Bravo! You sure kicked that...eleven year old's ass...
That punk shouldn't be starting shit with your kids, dammit!
Hell hath no fury like a Momma protecting her babes. Wow YH, I am so proud of you. I predict that the bond between you and bigglest boy is going to be much stronger and raised to an entirely different level. Strange avenue to get there but beautiful all the same. You go slugger.
*big squeeze*
I'm glad you guys back me up, but I hope no one gets the impression that I'm proud of this. I could have handled it better. I could have hollered for help, and I could have not let a kid get to me, even if he was taller than me and bigger than my dad.
As angry as I am with myself, I'm angrier with that kid's mom. Where the hell was she? I find out she was in her car with the a/c and radio running the whole time. That kid got in trouble when he was running loose, and now he's not supposed to run loose under the terms of his probation. His mom let him run loose and he punched my kid in the eye. He could have blinded him, or worse.
Ya, he's only eleven, but I think that when you get to be 5' 6" and 150+ lbs, and you take the first swing at someone who's less than 80 lbs, you and your mom both deserve whatever happens, whatever your age.
My kids aren't going to any public school, because kids like the punk aren't getting kicked out of them.
oh bravo. good for you.
Instead of pandering to you like the others, I have to admonish you. You can't get violent with an 11 year old. It dosen't matter how evil, fat or stupid the kid is - he is still a kid, and you could have gotten into major trouble.
Believe me I know where your coming from, I have a 10 year old adopted son (my wifes offspring), who I am especially protective of. I have been tempted many times to smite his tormentors in a biblical fashion and then drag their corpses in an Achllies-like fashion, behind my Nissan Maxima. Of course I haven't due to the legal problems that might ensue.
I commend you for the love you have shown to your sons, and the sacrifices you have made for their well-being. In the future, though just pull the bloated punk off and scream for others to help you.
PS: I can assure you punks like this do get kicked out of public schools left and right. Don't let this incident scare you off.
Momma bear protecting her cubs... My wife is always trying to intervene in kid business. There is a point when something has to be done but you can't beat them up. You are really lucky the guys in blue aren't giving you a ride in the back of their car with the cool lights.
This does show how much you love the boys. You have to be careful not to embarrass the boys and create more distance.
Love the stories. You are a good person. Being a parent is the greatest thing life has to offer. DMP
Scoot, DMP, I'm with you, like I said. I don't think I handled it right, and I know full well the potential consequences of it.
For the record, I didn't 'beat him up' - that would be the day. I pulled him off of Bigglest Boy. He and his jackals were in the process of beating me up when I got rescued.
I have since made a statement to the police. They looked up this kid and got his record (which is pretty violent), and looked me up, and got mine (no tickets in 8 years) and drew their own conclusions about what happened. They don't think I'll get into any trouble, though they did tell me I should try to first pull my own kid away from danger and avoid touching anyone else. One officer seemed to think I did right, without actually saying so.
"What should I do," I asked him, "when there's a group of huge guys beating up my kid?"
"I'm only going to tell you how to avoid trouble for yourself," he said. "But I know what I'd do, and it wouldn't have been much different. The only difference is I'm bigger than he is, and I have better leverage."
They did ask me if I would like to press charges. I declined, but it was a relief that they seemed to think it was an option. I then found out that the incident itself, without my pressing charges, will likely result in this kid being in violation of the terms of his juvenile probation.
How would you have felt if you'd remained more composed, simply yelled for help, and Bigglest Boy had sustained more serious, permanent damage? I think you were right on, including the exchange with Fat Boy's irresponsible mother. Sure...you could have attempted to sound like a prim and proper 1940s movie heroine...but that's not real life. You protected him against an unwarranted and highly assymetrical attack.
Good on you!
Also...I hope you will investigate and try to ensure that the attacker kid is punished for violating his probation. If he is not punished that way, I urge you to reconsider and press charges. You might be saving _my_ kid from a similar attack.
And like the officer said, a kid like that will be taking his life in his hands tangling with a grown man. So you'll be helping that kid, as well. He needs to be held accountable for every transgression at this point. Only then will he get it through his head it's not worth it.
When something like that happens, you don't have time to think about what is right. You move in to protect your kid, and they started fighting you.
Maybe you should press charges, then the boy (and his no-goodnik of a mom) might learn a lesson.
Wow. It's scary how violent children have become.
Oh sweetheart....
First: You did not attack an 11 year old. For his height and weight, he looked like a teenager. You had no way of knowing, PLUS 11 year olds generally do not say, "Fuck you, bitch". My point is that you were unaware of his age.
Second: I completely disagree with Scoot (sorry Scoot). You had to remove this punk from your child. You did not proceed to pound him to mincemeat, but you did what you had to do to remove him from your child. He outweighed you. There wasn't a whole hell of a lot you could have done, other than use a tackle to gain the upper hand. In Scoot's case, I think the police would see the situation MUCH differently, as he is a grown man and you are a lightweight girl (no offense meant, honey). For Scoot, the situation could have been easier to handle, depending on his size. He could have possibly picked the kid up by the back of his shirt and left him flailing in mid air till help came. You had no way to do that.
Third: Scoot is correct about kids like that getting kicked out of schools. Here in Virginia I have to sign a form admitting whether or not my child has had criminal charges against him, and I in contempt if I lie.
Fourth: A Man has two VERY thought provoking points. Had you yelled for help and Bigglest Boy was blinded, etc, how would you feel? You did what you had to do. And you SHOULD press charges, because not only does this child AND his negligent mother need to be held accountable, it also might help for child services to step in.
If something else is added to his record, child services might notice that his mother is
1) not taking proper care of her child
2) the child is continually violent
3) THE CHILD NEEDS HELP and obviously isn't getting it.
A kid like that, with a freaking rap sheet at ELEVEN, is only going downhill fast. He'll end up in juvie or a gang or drugs, whatever. His mother is a fucking idiot and incapable of caring for him. Perhaps it is beyond her parenting skills and should not be held against her, but if that is the case, protective services needs to step in and get the child the psychiatric help he so obviously needs.
Please consider calling the police back, if only to explain that you are worried this child needs HELP.
And on another note entirely, hopefully Bigglest Boy (poor dear!) sees that you are his protector.
And last, but certainly not least, stop beating yourself up! Geez! Woulda coulda shoulda- you stopped your child from being beaten much MUCH worse from a wandering pack of feral children. Think of Monsieur with the sword and the coyotes. As a mother, I can tell you- you did what almost ALL OF US would have done. For the record, I would have gone Chuck Norris on all those punks, and probably ended up in jail. You showed more restraint that I would, I can promise you that.
It isn't about pride about giving an eleven year old smack down.
This is about pride of giving your children a reality check. They know you will put yourself in harms way to protect them. And without their mother, that is far more valuable than you realize.
Shit. Think what *she* would have done. (shudder) Really.
Bravo and Yippee for you! Good for you not letting anybody mess with your boys; that 11-year-old deserved everything he had coming to him.
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