I should probably tell you a story

I did a thing. I got involved in a whole mom thing and I was momming away and saying things like “what a doll” and “precious!” and other things I don’t say but I needed to say because I’m a mom and thats how moms say.

Then. I. Got. In. Trouble.

For reals. The leader of this particular mom group was forced to issue me a warning.

And that’s when I realized how much I love a good chastising. It wakes me up and snaps me out of a conformity daze. Suddenly my brain is like “you’re absolutely right! I can’t be like you and its miserable trying!”

I do that sometimes. Tell myself what behavior is acceptable and then accept behaving that way. Until someone gets the tiniest bit saucy causing the big hand and the little hand to move to f&&k that o’clock and I snap out of it.  The fall out is almost always gloriously horribly train wreckishly fabulous.

As a mom blogger I am supposed to learn you something of value. A recipe. A craft. A heart felt lesson of love and life and feelings. I can’t do it. I’m not your man, man. Also that’s not the point of my blog. My blog is a professional tool for uncorking the bottle that allows me to write. I have to write a lot of serious things and difficult things and it’s very exact and specific and purpose driven and blah blah blah blah. My blog is more like the weird noises singers make to warm up the pipes. Or how a teacher will make her Kindergartners shake all the wiggles out so they can sit still. So this is me shaking out the pipes so I can sit still and sing you a story.

Today’s story is a foggy little memory of a time long long ago.

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Kevin as I remember him

There once was my little brother. I don’t want to use his actual name so we’ll call him Kevin. Kevin sounds like a good imaginary name that won’t confuse me at all.

Kevin was 12ish one time and he rode the bus to and from school. One day I noticed that Kevin was really angry and murmuring and mumbling when he got home. This continued for like 35 days and then I asked.

“What the hell?”

He said a lot of words and things, possibly gestured, and then he really got my attention when he said somethings about a girl on a bus being mean to him.

“wait what?”

He confirmed with words and things and what nots that, yes, he was being picked on by a girl.

That really chapped my sweet hide. I fully admit that in our youths I treated the boy like any sister treats a little brother. There was spite, and pettiness, and a generous helping of outright verbal abuse. So you can imagine my outrage that some “girl” had the audacity to be rude. I didn’t catch what she was actually doing that was so upsetting. I got the gist of it. She was doing something. or something.

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What kind of monster picks on this little guy?

So the next day I left school early. Wasn’t difficult, I wasn’t the type to “go to class” or “apply myself” or “avoid disciplinary action”. I went to the bus stop and I waited in a parked car. I had a friend with me. She smoked cigarettes. So there we were, two young truants sitting in her moms car smoking cigarette after cigarette. We sat real low in the seats. Listening to rap music. Waiting. It was like a stake out. We even had snacks. I feel like we might have waited over an hour. I wasn’t 100% sure about when school got out. I do know we had become bored due to lack of action and were on the verge of abandoning our mission. I know we were in the middle of agreeing it’s probably a good thing he’s getting a little picked on. It’ll build character and such things. BUT THEN the bus appeared. It stopped at the corner. A mechanical stop sign was cranked out near the drivers side mirrors. The red lights began to flash. The doors open. Children emerged. There was Kevin. We dropped lower in our seats. Four other kids got off the bus. Only one was a female. She was a big girl. Bigger than me. We watched them move away from the bus and set off on their trek home. The bus drove away.

That’s when it happened. This girl. This heathen. This beast child of Beelzebub reached out and grabbed the handle on the top of my little baby brothers back pack.

and. the. b#$% yanked.

She didn’t yank hard enough to cause him to fall or anything, but he was clearly slightly inconvenienced. She laughed and walked past him. No she didn’t. No she did not intimidate my little brother and then laugh about it. I got out of the car and crossed the road. My friend unrolled the window and asked me what the hell I was thinking I was going to do.

“SHHHHHHH” I said. Because I had smoked all those cigarettes. And by cigarettes I mean pot. We had smoked so much pot.

I followed the group. They turned the corner and I jogged a bit. I turned the corner and I saw the lady of the hour turn up a walkway, she went up the steps, she opened a door, she disappeared inside. I had discovered where she lived. Now what? My friend who had been driving next to me, at about 2 mph, not suspicious at all, was thinking the same thing. She even said, “now what?”

Kevin had continued home without noticing me.

“HEYYYYYYY!” seemed to be the appropriate way to get his attention. It was way louder than I intended. WAY LOUDER. And angry. He turned. He was clearly confused. I was standing in someones yard. My friend leaning out the window of her car waving wildly. He began to walk back to us. It took forever. The kid has a shuffle and half. I don’t know how he ever successfully gets anywhere. Head down. Shoulders down. Shuffle shuffle. Had she done this to him. Had she robbed my baby brother of the pep in his step? Had she bullied him so much it had caused a physical manifestation?

He finally reached us and I said “let’s go talk to your little buddy old pal in there.” My friend climbed out of the car. And we headed to the door. Kevin very reluctantly followed. I think he might have been asking questions or perhaps protesting but I tune him out for the most part so I really can’t say for sure. What I do know is all three of us were crowded on that tiny porch. I knocked once and the b$%# answered the door.

I punched her in the face and yelled “Just leave him alone!” and then we ran away. My friend and I jumped in her car. I don’t know what Kevin did. We just left him. There was a lot of adrenaline. We sort of outright forgot about him after we pushed him off the stairs so we could get away.

When I say away I need you to understand the sound of the tires as we hightailed it out of there. The screech was only matched by a similar sound made by us coming to an abrupt halt. When we stopped six maybe seven houses down the road. Cause that’s where I lived. “That was so ridiculous!” I exclaimed. She made no comment probably because I could have been referring to a number of things that just happened and my statement so accurately summed it up there was really nothing left to say.

We were already elbow deep in sandwich and chips by the time Kevin walked in the door. He seemed angry. He was again murmuring and mumbling. Obviously that girl had said something to upset him after we escaped.

“Kevin!” I announced. He just angrily stared at the wall. “There’s nothing more I can do to help you. You are going to need to sort out your own problems. If she continues to pick on you maybe you knock on the door and punch her in the face yourself.” He was saying words, possibly objecting to my advice, but my friend and I were laughing really hard so nobody knows for sure what the hell he was going on and on about.

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I still beat him when necessary despite his not being little anymore

 

7 thoughts on “I should probably tell you a story

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