Jo witnesses Lyla being bullied at school one day.
I stick my hands in the pockets of my hoodie sweatshirt and walk quickly down the hallway, glancing at each room that I walk past for the one that says, "Mrs. Robertson." I came home early from work today, which means me and Alex switched our daily "chores". Usually, I pick the baby up from the daycare on my way out the door from work and Alex swings past the elementary school and grabs Lyla. But I threw up twice at work today and I just wasn't feeling good so I had to come early. I started to go down to the daycare to pick my baby up and bring him home with me, but I kind of realized that sickly mommies and healthy babies don't mix so I just texted Alex and told him to grab little Alex on his way home from work. I have to pick Lyla up from school today though because Alex's surgery ran late and he wasn't going to be able to get her until 4:00, which is way too late. So I had to peel my sick, vomitty self up off the couch and drive ten minutes to pick my other baby up from school.
I make it to the wooden door that has frogs decorated all over it and cutout cattail flowers that say "Mrs. Robertson." The door is already open since it's dismissal time, so I walk right into the classroom and find myself in a sea of other parents that also don't let their children ride the bus home. "Excuse me…" I mumble under my breath and brush past a big, burly man that's holding a toddler in his arms in addition to helping a blonde little boy with spiked hair put his coat on. Once I make it past the man and am fully into the classroom, I look around for my baby. Parents that pick their children up are allowed to come into the classroom at dismissal and get them, but when Alex picks her up from school, he lets her walk out with the bus children so she can look like a big girl. I would let her walk out with the bus children too but if let her, she'd be looking around for Alex's black Mercedes as opposed to my red Volkswagen and she'd probably be confused and it's just easier if I come in here, I think.
Over at a desk with a pink Hello Kitty lunchbox in her hand and a purple and pink Monster High bookbag on her back, my baby is sitting down with her shoulders slouched and her head down. She's playing with the zipper on her pencil case and just waiting for the bus children to be dismissed. I start to open my mouth so I can call her name but before I can get anything out, I see two little girls walk over to my baby's desk. One little girl has long, curly, bright red hair and the other has short, bleached blonde pigtails. The blonde one is heavier set and carrying the same Monster High backpack my daughter has and the redheaded one is tall for her age and very skinny, carrying a backpack with the Disney princesses on it. The redheaded one snatches the pencil case out of Lyla hands suddenly, causing my baby to jump back out of fright. I wrinkle my brow. What the hell? "Hey…that's mine…" Lyla reaches out to grab her pencil case back but the redhead snatches away from her. "My daddy gived that to me…" She's right. Alex did buy her that pencil case.
"What's in it?" The blonde one takes the pencil case off the redhead and unzips it.
"Nuffing." Lyla puts her hand on her pencil case and tries to take it. "Give it!"
"Move, Loser Lyla." The chubby blonde puts her hand in the middle of Lyla's chest and pushes her pretty hard…so hard that my baby stumbles backward and lands on the chair she was sitting in, but her weight distributes on the chair unevenly and the chair topples over, sending my daughter down to the floor with a loud, hard crash. The stockings I put on her this morning are ripped, her black velvet miniskirt is hiked up so the world can see her bright pink panties and the white headband I put on her came forward, causing her hair to be all in her face. Like it does when Alex and I yell at her, put her in timeout or spank her, Lyla's face turns bright red and I can tell that she's going to cry. The redhead starts to laugh and point at her and the blonde takes the moment to snatch Lyla's lunchbox out of her hand. And because she's embarrassed, Lyla just lets her take it.
I feel like I've just been punched in the stomach. I want to throw up; and not because I'm still feeling a little sick, but because I can't believe what I just watched…and nobody did anything about it. My heart hurts right now. I have this lump in my throat like after you dry-swallow a big pill, and I really want to cry. "Excuse me…" I mumble, pushing past the crowd of overzealous parents just standing around so I can get towards the back of the room and over to my daughter. The teacher is standing at her desk, talking to some woman with short black hair, laughing and having a marvelous time while my baby is sitting on the ground and getting ready to cry! I sidestep a few desks so I can get over there to her and clamp my hand over my mouth when I see the little redhead reach down to pull my baby's hair. "Lyla!" I call her name as I weave my way through desks. The little redhead and the little blonde both look at me with fear in their eyes. The blonde drops Lyla's pencil case and her lunchbox and makes a break for it and the redhead backs away from my daughter and runs too. "Uh-uh!" I shake my head and grab both the little girls by the collars of their shirts before they can run past me. I'm shaking so bad right now. I have to full-out convince myself not to hit somebody else's kids. I want to beat both their little asses right now. "Why are you two picking on her?! Huh?! What'd she do to you?!" I look at both of them. "I'm her mommy, so if she did something to make you mad, you tell me about it! Don't hit her." I let both their shirts go and bite my lip. I want to kill these two little girls. "Come here, bubbles." I kneel down on the floor and start fixing her.
"She's…she's mean to us! So we were mean back!" The little redhead puts her hands on her hips. "We didn't do nothing!"
"Then like I said, you tell me! You don't hit her!" I have to take a deep breath. They're not my kids…I can't yell at somebody else's kids. I'd be pissed off if somebody else yelled at mine. Then again, I raised my baby with freaking respect and she wouldn't be going around bullying other kids because she knows better. I pick her up and wipe her tears. "It's okay, baby…mommy's here." I snatch up her lunchbox and her backpack and angrily stomp over to the teacher's desk. "Excuse me!" Me myself, I know better than to interrupt other people's conversations, but too bad right now. She's sitting here laughing and having a good old time while my baby was just pushed, knocked to the floor and called a loser! "Uh, Jo Wilson…Lyla's mother." I don't even bother offering my hand for either of them to shake. Mrs. Robertson looks at me like I'm a crazy person and the black haired woman just slowly backs away. "I believe we've talked over the phone COUNTLESS times."
"Yes, Miss Wilson…" Like a trained professional, she holds her hand out for me to shake but I don't take it. I'm not about to shake her hand when I'm about to cuss her out the way I'm about to.
"Yeah, I just witnessed those two little girls back there come up to my daughter who was MINDING HER OWN BUSINESS and start picking on her. They took her pencil case, her lunchbox, pushed her down and called her a loser! What are you doing about this?!" I kind of want to put Lyla down because I don't want her to witness this side of her mother, the side of Jo that I put away long before she was born. This side of Jo has been gone for quite some time. I think the last time this side of Jo came out was when I was an intern and I beat the hell out of my ex-boyfriend for putting his hands on me. I've long since retired that side of myself but it's coming out again.
"Miss Wilson, I can assure you that this doesn't happen—"
"BULL! Because she comes home EVERY SINGLE DAY with a bruise, a bump, a ripped shirt, a broken shoe….just last week I had to super glue the strap back on her shoe because those two little girls pushed her and broke it! And I can't tell you how many clothes I've had to throw in the trash because they're so ripped that I can't sew them! These girls have been picking on her for a long time now and every time I call up here to do something about it, NOBODY does anything! I've had enough! I've had enough of sending my daughter to this school perfectly healthy and bringing her home with a new bump or bruise every day! Now, she does nothing to anybody to deserve this! Either YOU put a stop to it or I will!"
"Miss Wilson, there aren't any specific rules that I can enforce. I've given Mackenzie and Gianna both fair warnings but the school doesn't suspend kindergarteners and—"
"Then where the hell are their parents?!" I turn around and look around the room. The two little girls are still standing over by the bookshelf just talking amongst themselves. "Where are their parents?!"
"They should be arriving very shortly…again Miss Wilson, I'm so sorry—"
"I'm waiting for their parents." I cut her off yet again and walk away. If the administration isn't going to do anything about the blatant BULLYING that's going on here, then I will. I'm not going to sit here as her mother and let this continue to go on. Now enough is enough. My daughter comes home every single day with a new story to tell about how those two evil little bitches mess with her. I'm not saying that Lyla's this perfect little angel because I know she's not. I know my child better than my child knows herself and I KNOW that she's not always innocent. But I also know that her father and I both raised her better than to be running around calling people names and hitting people. Lyla can be mouthy, bratty and very stubborn but ONLY when it comes to me and Alex because she knows us! My child is way too timid and shy around new people to go around acting like a little bitch so I KNOW FOR A FACT that she doesn't do anything to those girls. If they won't do anything about it then I will. I'm sick of this. "You okay, bubbles?" I change my tone to something more motherly and look at her. She has tears streaming down her cheeks and her hair is all messed up. I push her hair back away from her face and kiss her on her cheek. "I know…mommy's gonna stop this. Mommy's not gonna let them get away with it no more. Kay?" She nods her head.
Just as I kiss Lyla's cheek once again, two blonde haired women walk into the classroom, laughing and giggling amongst themselves and acting like they're best friends. One of them is heavier set just like the heavier set blonde little girl and the other one is short but very thin. I'm going to take a wild guess and say that they're their mothers. Mrs. Robertson blows right past me. "Mrs. Davies, Mrs. Anderson…" Mrs. Robertson starts briefing the two on the issue and it's a good thing she got to them before I did. Sure enough, the two little girls go running to their mothers. As soon as Mrs. Robertson steps aside, I carry Lyla over to them and stand in front of them.
"Hi, I'm Jo Wilson…Lyla's mother." I clear my throat and offer my hand to the both of them. They both shake my hand and give me their full, undivided attention. "Um…for a while now, my daughter's been coming home and telling me and her father that your two daughters have been…for lack of a better word…bullying my daughter. She comes home with ripped clothes, broken shoes, clumps of her hair falling out sometimes, bruises on her face and her back…and she always tells me that they're inflicted by your children and I would really appreciate it if maybe—"
"My little Gianna is the youngest of four; she has three older brothers." The heavier set one cuts me off and puts her hand on the chubby blonde one's head. "She's a little bit rough when she plays because she's used to roughhousing with her brothers, but she means well. I hardly think this is a case of bullying."
"Yeah, kids are going to be kids. Mackenzie is fairly well mannered, respectable…are you sure maybe your daughter isn't misinterpreting their intentions?" The skinny one lifts the redhead up and kisses her cheek.
"I understand that kids will be kids and I'm in no way implying that my daughter is some dainty, petite little princess…she can take a hit pretty well and she understands what it means when someone is playing with her. But I just witnessed both of your daughters picking with her a moment ago. They snatched her pencil case, pushed her down on the floor, called her names and proceeded to pull her hair. You're telling me that they're just playing with her?"
"Well did you ask your daughter what she could've done to provoke such a thing?" The heavier set one keeps stroking her hair. "Because Gianna wouldn't attack another child without reason."
"Does it matter?!" I can feel myself getting angry and I can't stop it. "I don't give a damn if my daughter called your daughter names or took her lunch money or whatever! Nothing gives your daughters the right to gang up on her and beat her up! My child should not fear to come to school every day because your two want to hurt her! And I know my child, I know she's not innocent but I also know that she's too terrified of your daughters to do anything to deserve what they've done. I don't care if your child grew up with brothers, she should be taught to keep her hands to herself the way I teach my daughter to keep hers to herself!" I don't give a damn what excuses their throwing at me. If anyone in this world has the right to lash out, it's Lyla! She just went through her parents getting a divorce, she went through five years of her life being an only child until seven weeks ago, she's probably sleep deprived because her new baby brother cries so damn much but she still manages to behave herself at school! I don't care if she did grow up with brothers, the little bitch needs to keep her hands off my child.
"I think you're way overreacting here. Is this what we want to teach our children? I don't know what methods you practice in your own home, but I teach my Mackenzie to be self-sufficient, independent and strong. I don't want to send the message to my child that if someone doesn't like her, she should go be a little tattle tale and cry about it. There are people all over this world that aren't liked every day and we can't stop that. You can't make our daughters like your daughter and be her best friend…it doesn't work that way. I don't know what you teach your child, but this is not the message I send to mine. I want Mackenzie to be able to handle things on her own. She doesn't have to be everyone's friend."
"Right, so if I tell my daughter to whoop both your daughters' asses next time they lay a finger on her, you're not going to have anything to say about it? You're not going to want to have a word with me or my daughter? You're going to tell your daughter to lick her wounds and deal with it because not everybody is going to like her? I imagine both of you would be pretty pissed off if both your children were the smallest children in the class and was being picked on by two of the biggest! You'd be pretty angry if you sent your child out the house wearing $70 outfits, only for her to come home with them ruined. You'd be mad if your daughters came home with bruises that another child put there and I imagine you'd be just as ticked as I am if you found out that MY child was the one that was doing it. I don't care how you slice it, they've been BULLYING Lyla and I'm not going for it anymore! All I'm asking is for you to have a conversation with them because I'm giving BOTH of you a fair warning. If my daughter comes home after today with so much as a strand of her HAIR out of place, I'm giving her full permission to kick both your daughters' asses and if you don't like it? Both of you can see me in the damn parking lot and I'll kick your asses too! Got that?"
I don't even wait for them to respond, I'm so mad. Instead, I push past them and carry Lyla out of the room. I tried so hard to be nice and professional but they both want to act like their kids are perfect angels and that ticked me off. All I asked was for them to talk to their kids and assure that they don't mess with daughter again. That's all. I was nice about it, I was professional, I acted like an adult…until they pissed me off. Over the years, I learned how to control my temper and manage my anger but I get so defensive and protective when it comes to my kids. I'll kill someone over Lyla and I'll kill someone over Alex. I don't mess around when it comes to my kids! I didn't have a mother to defend me and protect me and I'll be damned if my kids will grow up and be able to say the same. I don't regret anything I said in there. "…You okay, bubby?" Lyla nods her head. "Sorry you had to see mommy act like that…"
"It's okay." She whispers and puts her head on my shoulder. "Thank you, mommy."