Foster age 7 (at Aunt Lele’s house)

For January, we have had a few really warm days this week.  My kids LOVE playing outside.  Foster has had 2 of his neighbor friends come over and jump on the trampoline and wrestle and chase and do all that fun boy stuff with him the past couple of days. It makes me really happy to see him happy, hanging out with his friends.  But today, when we got in the van, he started to tell me that his friends had been calling him names, being really rough with punches, spit on him, kept his shoes from him after I told him to get ready to go, and blocked him from coming in the house.  He is not a tattle-tale kind of kid.  So when his lip was quivering and his eyes starting to water, I knew it had to have been bad.  I felt like a mother lion. All of a sudden I had this surge of anger, I wanted to go over and let those boys have it.  I tried to remain calm and asked Foster if he would mind if I called their mom.  Surprisingly, he said that he thought I should.  I told him they need a chance to teach them not to act like that.  I hurt for him, they are 2 of his closest buddies. The phone call was well-received.

When I took Katie to a all girl birthday party this evening I remembered another “mother lion” moment in my past.  I was on the other end of things though.

When I was in middle school I had a TON of slumber parties.  I’m not sure why my parents indulged me with them, maybe because my brother hadn’t come along yet and I was still an only child.  They would allow me to invite 8-12 girls at a time! I was not in the “popular” crowd in middle school. I was, however, only one level lower, which meant that I could still invite the popular girls and they would come as their own clique. I also invited girls who were actually my friends, some from my huge neighborhood or from my classes.  One particular party, the “popular” girls got to my house and asked if a girl named Katie would be there.  I told them yes.  The problem was they didn’t like her.  The next 15 minutes was a blur, it all happened so fast.  The doorbell rings and one of the girls answers the door. Katie is there. The girl yells at Katie “THERE’S NO PARTY HERE! GO HOME!” laughs, and shuts the door in her face. Just a few minutes later the doorbell rings again and I answer, wanting to tell Katie that I am sorry and explain what happened.  Well, it wasn’t Katie. It was her mom.  She started yelling at me and the main thing I will always remember is her saying “I AM LIKE A MOTHER LION WHEN IT COMES TO MY CHILD.” I thought then that I understood what she meant. I didn’t. Not then. But I do now.