Lesson learned...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Ever been in line at a store, and had to endure an argument between a parent and child in line in front of you?

We all have right?

It's almost universally cringe worthy as the kid pushes boundaries, and lips off feeling secure in the fact the parent will not escalate in public.

I always felt I knew exactly how I'd handle a situation like that. I felt there was no WAY my kid would talk to me like the kids I'd witnessed talked to their parents.

And then it happened to me...

Mama Bear, Princess Bear and I were in Kohls doing some Christmas shopping. Our treasures procured we headed for the check-out. The place was packed, lines were long and tempers short when Kaitlin started a discussion about going to a party.

I was adamantly opposed to her attending this party, being thrown by the class "problem" child. 

In earlier years my daughter and this girl were friends. A girl being raised by her Grandmother because her mother was a drug addict. As the girl got older, Grandma became overwhelmed...the girls behavior becoming more and more out of control.

The nail in the coffin of my daughter EVER hanging with this girl again came from a story from my own daughters lips.

It seems the year before this girl had a party (which my daughter did not attend) commemorating their graduation from 6th. grade.

During a game of  "7 minutes in heaven" (proof Grandma wasn't paying attention) my daughters former friend preformed oral sex on a boy she liked in the downstairs closet, to completion. 

At 12, this was a little more than this young man was prepared to handle. Freaked out...he told his Mom.

Needless to say, Mom was not remotely amused!!!

So now she was throwing a Christmas party and my 13 year old daughter wanted to go.

"Nothing like that is going to happen this time Daddy, she got in so much trouble last time...her Grandma will be there the whole time..." She pleaded.

"Meaning what? That Grandma left a bunch of 12 year olds home alone last time?!? I'm sure Grandma was "home" last time too Katie, the answer is still no."

The "discussion" quickly escalated to "argument", my answer went from not just "no" to "HELL NO"!

As I looked around me I saw on the faces of the people surrounding us both sympathy and annoyance. I realized I had become "that" parent.

Tall for her age, Katie looked older than she was. Almost as tall as her 5'9" mother.

About this time she was in full "lose my fucking mind" teenager mode. Said something about being old enough to make her own decisions, and I can't stop her and blah, blah, blah!!! All this accompanied by the 

"Ghetto head weave" and ended with her nose about an inch from mine...my daughter is definitely not scared to poke the bear!

I was furious...my first inclination was to just wipe her right off her feet...probably illegal and too many witnesses. Instead, I brought my forehead forward and down, right into hers...hard.

She took a step backwards rubbing her head.

"Oooooooowwww" she said "that hurt!"

My turn to step in.

"You do that to me again, and next time I will knock your stupid...ass...out!!! You understand me?!?

"yeah..."

"What? I didn't hear that?!?"

"YES, I said...geez!!!"

"You're not going to that god damn party, and I don't want to hear another fucking word about it. Clear?"

"Clear" she said sullenly

As the rage dissipated and I looked around again...

The guy behind us was chuckling, when I met his eyes he gave me a nod. A couple women around us were covering smiles with their hands, studiously looking anywhere but at me...and no one was calling 911! Whew.

The only person not at least a little amused was Mama Bear!!! After receiving the "look of death" I knew I'd be hearing about this later...

On the plus side, 9 years later not once has she ever done that to me again...I say "lesson learned"!

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

The milk...

 Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

It's funny how our parents seem to forget...let me explain.

Milk, never been a fan...
Even as a child, never drank the stuff.
Ate it on cereal, in oatmeal, in cream sauces...
But to drink a glass of it? No.

Of course chocolate milk was different. 
Personally I prefer chocolate malt, but I was the only one. I have twin sisters, younger than me and they drank their milk plain. 
Dad preferred Ovaltine™,
which I thought tasted like chocolate medicine. 
Yuck!
Money was tight, times were hard...yada yada yada
anyway it wasn't in the budget to get chocolate milk just for me.

The problem was, my mother was determined I would drink my milk, like it or not.

Come dinner time, she would ask me what I wanted to drink...we rarely had pop so I'd say "ice water".
"Well, I already poured you milk."
Well what'd ya ask me for then???
"But Moooooooom, I don't like milk!"
"Just drink it, it's good for you!" I don't know how many things I had to eat because they were "good for me".

I was however, a stuburn child...
Steadfastly refusing to drink my milk...
All through dinner, when plates were cleared, when dishes done, and there I sat staring at that horrible white death in a glass. You see I was not allowed to leave the table until I finished my meal, which included that glass of milk.
My parents and sisters retired to the family room to watch tv, and still there I sat.
Mom sat so she could see me from the other room, so there was no chance to dump it out.

Finally the psychological torture was too much...and I chugged that warm, nasty glass of milk...dry heaving when done. Now satisfied I would not die of brittle bone disease, nor would my teeth all fall out, I was allowed to join the family.

Years later, married with a kid of my own we would often invite my mother and her boyfriend(my parents had divorced when I was nine) out to dinner on Friday nights.

One such night when Princess Bear was about 4, we were out at a favorite dining establishment and we let Princess choose what she wanted for dinner, which we always did. She picked spaghetti and meatballs, which she got there often. When everyone's food came, Princess ate a couple bites and said she changed her mind she wanted chicken strips. I asked if there was something wrong with her spaghetti?
"No...I just want chicken strips."
"Well baby, you ordered spaghetti and that's what you're gonna eat...if you wanted chicken that's what you should have ordered."
At this point my mother started clucking like an angry old hen.
"I NEVER made you kids eat anything you didn't like!" She said.
"Excuse me???" I said
"#1 she WANTED spaghetti, AND she likes it! #2 you seriously don't remember making me eat Brussels sprouts that made me gag? 'They're good for you'. Or butternut squash? Cause it was 'good for me" too! Or making me sit at the table for an hour after dinner because I wouldn't drink the glass of milk you gave me KNOWING how much I hated it??? Please."
"I don't know where you kids come up with this stuff, I never did any of that! Why would you make up things like that, just to make me sound like a bad mother?"
"Mom, nobody's saying you were a bad mother!!! But don't sit there and tell me you never made us eat anything we didn't like."
Needless to say that put a damper on the rest of the evening...
On our way home, after dropping them off, I said to my wife.
"I know that happened, with the milk...repeatedly!"
"I know honey, you've told me about it before... I believe you."

A few months later, we were over at my father and step mother's house, having a nice cookout. 
We were chatting about this and that when the thought hit me.
"Hey Dad, you remember mom ever making us kids eat things we didn't like?"
"Oh Jesus, THE MILK!!!" He said. 
"She'd make you sit there until you drank it! I told her by then it was warm and nasty and she said she'd already poured it and we weren't wasting it. Besides, it was 'good for you'!"

Could it be she truly doesn't remember that? Sure, it's possible. It's my personal opinion it's "selective" memory at work! We all want to think of ourselves in the most positive light, which makes it easy to gloss over particulars. And as parents, none of us are perfect...we've probably all done something we're not proud of...in retrospect.

I hope when Princess has kids of her own, and she brings up something I did to her as a child, I won't have selective memory...
I'll simply say "I was doing my best, and what I thought was right at the time."
Oh, and "Sorry!"

Be well folks!

Beastly Bear