I had never really thought of myself as a Mama Bear, particularly not As Seen on Facebook. As in, “try to mess with my kid and I’ll show you what a mama bear really is!”I certainly have never felt the desire to buy a Mama Bear t-shirt, not when there are so many more interesting shirts in the world. I never thought that the Mama Bears thought of themselves as actual mauling, flesh-ripping bears. It’s never clear who these ladies are really talking to…I imagined some dickhead coach not recognizing God given talent, and a Mom with a glass of “mom juice” giving him that what-for while her kid tries to turn invisible.
But when I was at a birthday party and suddenly wanted to punch a little kid? For looking at my kid wrong? And then looking at me like I was supposed to do something about my kid happily being himself (and not following the rules of the dumb party game but ultimately bothering no one)? Well, buy me the shirt that says PsychHOTic and lemme at ‘im, ‘cause there’s a beatin’ to give.
I truly thought that Mama Bears were just raging at like, injustices, or, other Mamas trying to keep Jaxon out of travel soccer…but…could it be that there are a bunch of premenopausal unreasonable wild hormonal bitches like myself who want to drop kick little children like Pomeranians if they so much as look at their children with something less than love in their eyes?
(I love dogs. I would never kick a dog. Except the little ones look so kickable. And ok maybe if there were a Purge day where you could punt a little dog without consequences, or hurting the precious little pup, and if they didn’t make the soul-rending little screech they do when you step on them accidently…and you know without the guilt… on Dog Kick Purge Day I would kick one just to see how far I could kick it. I would. And then I would feel so terrible that on Human Purge day I would sit and let the dog bite or have their way with me or whatever it needed to do in retribution. John Wick might be involved. Surely I would regret my actions.)
Look if moms want to square up with kids than mine is in trouble. Being the “let’s get ready to rumble” flavor of autistic, I can’t imagine the sheer number of kids Max has bitten, scratched, hit, choked and otherwise mauled in his 10 years. But you know, get ready. I’ll fight you. And your kid. Maybe your kid deserved it.
We were at a splash park one time and Max being Max was taking his sweet time at the top of a slide, ignoring the bottleneck of impatient children behind him. And then this stupid little middle school bitch mimed kicking Max in the butt as he was deciding whether or not to ride down the slide. I could have kicked her at the moment. And liked it. A lot. (although it wouldn’t have been as satisfying as a Pomeranian; she wouldn’t have flown as far).
The other day we were at an arcade and Max was both doing running commentary to himself (as he does) and doing a terrible job trying to knock clowns down with balls. And this dumb little kid gave me a look like, “can you believe how weird this kid is?” And in my head I was all like, “Fuck you kid I will END you.” And he ran off crying. Of course he didn’t but I hope he felt the energy of my sentiment.
Kids are incredible assholes. How? Lately there’s not much good to be said for the Catholic Church but in the ‘80s at least Catholic Schooling made me very familiar with sin and Hell and being a Good Samaritan. There’s nothing like the fear of Jesus peeking around every corner to make you act right.
My friend said that her Kindergartener (KINDERGARTENER!) came home crying because kids called her fat and made fun of her fabulous asymmetrical haircut. We solemnly agreed to gang up on the little motherfucker and make it stop. It did give me pause for a second, the unfairness of two ladies in their 40s coming after a 5-year-old, but, hey, that’s what happens when you fuck around.
Even the Ramones wrote a song about beating kids up with baseball bats, probably because they were loud and annoying and the Ramones were hungover. The song is so upbeat it sounds like they are joyfully hitting one another with Nerf bats but still. I appreciate the sentiment. The primal urge to unleash rage on children has been with us for a long, long time.
That being said, it’s wrong to hit kids. It is 100%, wholly, morally wrong I am highly aware that Max does not behave like a typical kid in public, and that I am hypersensitive to anyone in the area who might think he’s weird and apparently I feel like I have to correct their opinion with like, my fists. I’m not crazy. It’s evolutionary. Also, CPS is a real thing and people enjoy Keeping Children Safe.
Eventually though, kids turn 18. And I’ll be ready. I have eight years to train and kick your kid’s ass as soon as they enter adulthood. And don’t think I won’t remember them. Revenge knows no bounds and I keep a running log seared into my brain. So maybe I’ll go back to cardio kickboxing. Probably after year 2 I won’t feel like I’m dying in the middle of class. Probably there is some Billy Blanks Tae Bo on YouTube still. Maybe I’ll learn Krav Maga. I don’t know what it is but you won’t know it’s coming. I might do nothing but sit on my buns and seethe. But when the time comes I will stare such daggers at you. Mark my words. You’ll feel them.
And you’ll look away first.
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