Today is Mother's Day. What kind of mother's blog would this be if I didn't pause to acknowledge the magnitude of the day? Motherhood is an experience that defies any words the human race has language to describe.
Something indescribable and unseen happens in a mother's heart (and brain, I might add) the moment she lays eyes on her child, whether by natural birth or adoption. There really aren't words for it, but if you're a mother you know exactly what I'm talking about. You are suddenly overwhelmed with a love like no other. Totally different than romantic love, this emotion transcends any other known to woman.
It both energizes you and makes you crazy at times. The love for this little life placed in yours will bring out the best in you and the worst in you. It will make a totally sane, educated and reasonable adult woman grow fangs and claws in a split second. God help anyone, whether a playmate, teacher, coach or total stranger who might tease, make fun of or falsely accuse your pride and joy. In short, you DON'T mess with Mama's chickens.
I clearly remember one incident (there were more) when my fangs suddenly appeared in defense of our son, Matthew. We've laughed over this many times since but at the time wild horses couldn't hold this Mama back. One thing was very clear in our family - you mess with my chickens, you mess with me.
Now mind you, I am normally a reasonably kind and caring person. I'm a church-going, Bible-reading Christian woman. I don't shake my fist at annoying drivers or roll my eyes at the person in front of me who can't figure out how to use the self-checkout thingy at the grocery store. (Well, okay, I may have done that once or twice). I wave at my neighbors and pay my taxes. But something inside me snapped the day I got a phone call from Mrs. McDonald - Matthew's 5th grade teacher.
I won't pretend my kids were perfect - they were normal kids. BUT, we had two family rules that were known and understood by our precious off-spring:
#1. We will trust you until you give us reason not to and
#2. If you ever lie to us we will find out and there will be consequences
So far on our parenting journey these simple but clear statements had served us well. We had two great kids who never gave us trouble. Then the phone call.
"I need you to come in and meet with me regarding something your son has done." Short, curt and blood-curdling words to any mama's ears.
"Your son".
Those words shot adrenaline through my veins and the fangs started their outward journey. MY SON has a name. His name is Matthew, thank you very much. And he's not just any boy, he's MY boy and he's a good boy - a smart boy. Don't use that tone with me unless you're ready for battle.
My heart is beating faster even now as I write this 19 years later!
What IS this emotion that is still so strong! I don't know that there's a name for it but if you've been a mother for more than about 10 minutes, you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the 'How dare anyone question the integrity or character of my child' emotion that defies reason.
Long story short, the appointment was made. Jeff and I (and Matthew) had our meeting with Mrs. McDonald (I changed her name because I am a kind and considerate woman - normally). She was
"accusing" MY son of damaging school property by scratching his initials MG on a blue plastic chair and she wanted us to pay for a new chair.
Now, being wise and fair parents (we didn't want to look like idiots in case our son DID do something so stupid) we of course asked Matthew before we met his teacher if he was responsible for the infraction.
Knowing that he knew about family rules 1 and 2, we trusted him to tell us the truth. His answer was classic - "Why would I be so dumb as to carve my own initials in that chair? If it had been me I would have put somebody else's." I told you he was a smart kid :)
Mrs. "McDonald" didn't know what she was in for when the three of us walked in her classroom that fateful day. She showed us the "damaged" chair. Yes, there were clearly two initials etched into the plastic and yes, they were MG.
Being the reasonable adult woman that I am, I simply asked Mrs. McDonald if there were any other children in her classroom with the initials MG. Yes, she replied there were, but that was not the point. She KNEW that our "MG" was the culprit.
Really.
I then asked her in my calm and reasonable mom-tone, how did she know it was our son - did she actually see our "MG" inflict the said damage on the blue chair? "Well, no. I didn't see it but another student told me it was him." AH HA! She didn't actually have proof that it was our Matthew who had done this horrible thing. She was going by what another 5th grader said. Another 5th grader with the initials "MG" I suspected.
With no proof that it was our MG who did the vandalizing, plus the fact that we turned to our son in front of his teacher and point blank asked him, "Did you do this?" (the answer of course was the "I'm not that stupid to use my own initials . . ."), the case was closed as far as we were concerned. We were not paying for a new blue plastic chair.
As we left a speechless and somewhat embarrassed Mrs. McDonald's classroom that day my heart was full of satisfaction. I had successfully defended my child (Jeff didn't have to say a word) and his good name and innocence were restored. In addition, Matthew Gowler knew from that day forward that someone would always be on his side (as long as rules 1 and 2 were abided by). Today he's a parent who will hopefully incorporate 1 and 2 in his own family because no doubt a day will come when the phone will ring. God help the one who messes with GRANDMA's chickens!
There are morals to this story:
#1. You mess with Mama's chickens and you mess with MAMA and Mama has fangs and claws that can appear in split seconds. All Mamas have them and I believe they are a gift (or possibly a curse) from God.
#2. Every child should have the confidence that there is someone in his/her life who will come to their defense when they need it - who will believe in them and go to battle for them when they are accused or treated unfairly - someone equipped and empowered for just the job - Mom. Fangs and all.
So Happy Mother's Day Moms. Enjoy the journey and keep those fangs sharpened!
Until next time . . .
K
Something indescribable and unseen happens in a mother's heart (and brain, I might add) the moment she lays eyes on her child, whether by natural birth or adoption. There really aren't words for it, but if you're a mother you know exactly what I'm talking about. You are suddenly overwhelmed with a love like no other. Totally different than romantic love, this emotion transcends any other known to woman.
It both energizes you and makes you crazy at times. The love for this little life placed in yours will bring out the best in you and the worst in you. It will make a totally sane, educated and reasonable adult woman grow fangs and claws in a split second. God help anyone, whether a playmate, teacher, coach or total stranger who might tease, make fun of or falsely accuse your pride and joy. In short, you DON'T mess with Mama's chickens.
I clearly remember one incident (there were more) when my fangs suddenly appeared in defense of our son, Matthew. We've laughed over this many times since but at the time wild horses couldn't hold this Mama back. One thing was very clear in our family - you mess with my chickens, you mess with me.
Now mind you, I am normally a reasonably kind and caring person. I'm a church-going, Bible-reading Christian woman. I don't shake my fist at annoying drivers or roll my eyes at the person in front of me who can't figure out how to use the self-checkout thingy at the grocery store. (Well, okay, I may have done that once or twice). I wave at my neighbors and pay my taxes. But something inside me snapped the day I got a phone call from Mrs. McDonald - Matthew's 5th grade teacher.
I won't pretend my kids were perfect - they were normal kids. BUT, we had two family rules that were known and understood by our precious off-spring:
#1. We will trust you until you give us reason not to and
#2. If you ever lie to us we will find out and there will be consequences
So far on our parenting journey these simple but clear statements had served us well. We had two great kids who never gave us trouble. Then the phone call.
"I need you to come in and meet with me regarding something your son has done." Short, curt and blood-curdling words to any mama's ears.
"Your son".
Those words shot adrenaline through my veins and the fangs started their outward journey. MY SON has a name. His name is Matthew, thank you very much. And he's not just any boy, he's MY boy and he's a good boy - a smart boy. Don't use that tone with me unless you're ready for battle.
My heart is beating faster even now as I write this 19 years later!
What IS this emotion that is still so strong! I don't know that there's a name for it but if you've been a mother for more than about 10 minutes, you know exactly what I'm talking about. It's the 'How dare anyone question the integrity or character of my child' emotion that defies reason.
Long story short, the appointment was made. Jeff and I (and Matthew) had our meeting with Mrs. McDonald (I changed her name because I am a kind and considerate woman - normally). She was
"accusing" MY son of damaging school property by scratching his initials MG on a blue plastic chair and she wanted us to pay for a new chair.
Now, being wise and fair parents (we didn't want to look like idiots in case our son DID do something so stupid) we of course asked Matthew before we met his teacher if he was responsible for the infraction.
Knowing that he knew about family rules 1 and 2, we trusted him to tell us the truth. His answer was classic - "Why would I be so dumb as to carve my own initials in that chair? If it had been me I would have put somebody else's." I told you he was a smart kid :)
Mrs. "McDonald" didn't know what she was in for when the three of us walked in her classroom that fateful day. She showed us the "damaged" chair. Yes, there were clearly two initials etched into the plastic and yes, they were MG.
Being the reasonable adult woman that I am, I simply asked Mrs. McDonald if there were any other children in her classroom with the initials MG. Yes, she replied there were, but that was not the point. She KNEW that our "MG" was the culprit.
Really.
I then asked her in my calm and reasonable mom-tone, how did she know it was our son - did she actually see our "MG" inflict the said damage on the blue chair? "Well, no. I didn't see it but another student told me it was him." AH HA! She didn't actually have proof that it was our Matthew who had done this horrible thing. She was going by what another 5th grader said. Another 5th grader with the initials "MG" I suspected.
With no proof that it was our MG who did the vandalizing, plus the fact that we turned to our son in front of his teacher and point blank asked him, "Did you do this?" (the answer of course was the "I'm not that stupid to use my own initials . . ."), the case was closed as far as we were concerned. We were not paying for a new blue plastic chair.
As we left a speechless and somewhat embarrassed Mrs. McDonald's classroom that day my heart was full of satisfaction. I had successfully defended my child (Jeff didn't have to say a word) and his good name and innocence were restored. In addition, Matthew Gowler knew from that day forward that someone would always be on his side (as long as rules 1 and 2 were abided by). Today he's a parent who will hopefully incorporate 1 and 2 in his own family because no doubt a day will come when the phone will ring. God help the one who messes with GRANDMA's chickens!
There are morals to this story:
#1. You mess with Mama's chickens and you mess with MAMA and Mama has fangs and claws that can appear in split seconds. All Mamas have them and I believe they are a gift (or possibly a curse) from God.
#2. Every child should have the confidence that there is someone in his/her life who will come to their defense when they need it - who will believe in them and go to battle for them when they are accused or treated unfairly - someone equipped and empowered for just the job - Mom. Fangs and all.
So Happy Mother's Day Moms. Enjoy the journey and keep those fangs sharpened!
Until next time . . .
K
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