Neighborhood Tormenter

I remember the first time I laid eyes on him...reddish blonde hair, blue eyes, freckle faced.

Not yet two, hoisted on his momma's hip  and slapping her in the face as she tried to introduce herself to me-the new neighbor a few doors down. I felt sorry for her but I figured he had missed a nap, was teething, getting sick/just getting over something... or one of the myriad of excuses we give when our kids go ballistic.

We spent a lot of time together over the years both by choice and necessity.

His speech was delayed and he bit CONSTANTLY...as in several time a day. Obviously he was frustrated and had difficulty communicating. We tried to be patient and supportive thinking that he would grow out of it, offering strategies to try. He got new tubes, attended speech therapy and we kept hoping.

And yet he was still biting at 3 and at 4 and at 5 years old. Biting the other kids through their clothes and leaving teeth marks. Attacking them and drawing blood. Biting his parents. Giving kids bloody noses, tackling them on the trampoline. Kicking, hitting, screaming, grabbing toys, destroying things. Completely unprovoked.

We learned early on there was no point in discussing it with his parents. It was NEVER his fault. Someone else had done or said something to him. He was "just standing up for himself". They made some brief attempts at discipline but there was no follow thru. He would literally laugh in their faces, take a swing at them and run off to play.

Here it is six years later.

Einstein (my 10 yr old son) and his friend standing in our driveway- two eager fifth grade band students so thrilled they can play an actual song.  They are giving a concert in OUR driveway- you know the one in front of OUR garage, the garage that is attached to OUR house, the house I pay OUR mortgage on every month. Is that the one you are picturing? Good, just making sure you are still with me.

I am inside scrambling to corral supplies for our Brownie meeting in 15 minutes. The windows are open and I hear yelling which is commonplace in our neighborhood chock full of kids. I think nothing of it and continue exhibiting my mad planning skills aka grabbing random items to be used for our Dancersize Try-it.

It is not until that night at bedtime that Einstein shares the deets with me.

"Mom I think you need to stop taking Evan (so not his real name!) to school."

"Why do you say that?" I ask as I try to rush the kids through the good night routine at warp speed.

"Because he is rude and I'm tired of him getting away with everything. His parents don't care what he does."

Clearly it isn't going to be a short and sweet goodnight. I ask Einstein to tell me more.

"He was yelling at us to shut up and calling us stupid."

Using my investigative journalism skills (of which I have none) I get the inside scoop.

Fast forward to Tuesday afternoon:

I couldn't have set the scene better if I was a movie producer. After school Tormenter runs over to me, chasing my 4 yr old and laughing with the other kids. I continue my conversation with another parent and then say "let's go." He starts to follow and I bend down to his level and say "I am not giving you a ride home today and you know why."

He stops in his tracks and looks shocked.

I kindly say "Remember what you said to Einstein yesterday?"

He stares at me, his face scrunching up.

He won't meet my eyes and stutters quietly, "I just asked him to be quiet."

LIES LIES LIES LIES LIES LIES LIES

I smile sweetly because I ALWAYS smile sweetly. I do too!

"No, tell me what you really said."

He was immediately defensive, glared at me and shouted "Well,Trent did it too!"

He still won't take responsibility for his behavior.

"Well if he did that was rude. But I don't give him a ride home. So, what did you really say?"

"I told him to shut-up," he says looking down at his feet.

"Did you tell him or yell at him?"

"I yelled."

"Hmm, so you yelled at him. Where was Einstein when you yelled at him?"

Still not looking up he responds, "In your driveway but I didn't like it."

"He was standing in my driveway on my property NOWHERE near you and you thought it was okay to scream at him to shut up?"

There's no stopping Momma23monkeys now!

"So I guess that means I can come down to your house and yell at you to stop playing basketball, " I say in my sweet voice.

Tormentor responds, "No."

I have been circling around long enough. Time to go in for the kill.

"What you did was mean and rude. I won't let you treat people like that. I do not give mean, rude people rides home from school."

Tormentor was in shock that he was going to suffer a consequence for his behavior.

I apologized to his sister, "I am sorry I can't give you a ride home since you did nothing wrong. But I know you have to go where he goes and he is not getting a ride from me."

As far as I can tell they got a ride home from another neighbor, which sucked for me. But as they walked past our lawn Stinkbug shouted, "You can't play at our house!"

I quickly burst through the front door fist pumping and smiling sweetly...yes I was!

It doesn't really matter he was saying that because Peanut had art class and we wouldn't be home.

Tormentor didn't know that.

That was Tuesday. It is now Friday and he has steered clear of us since.

His mom pretends like it didn't happen. I know for a fact his Big Sis told her I haven't been offering them a ride home.

Final Score:
Momma23monkeys: +1
Tormentor: -43

How do you respond to neighborhood tormentors?

Cruel & Unusual Punishment?

The monkeys woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.

Hell, they woke up on the wrong side of the WORLD!

I tried to be extra patient and kind...gave them a few more minutes in bed, poured their cereal and milk. Apparently that wasn't good enough.

It seems they were determined to have a shitty day and to ruin the day of those around them.

Einstein (10) came out griping and yelling how he "couldn't brush his hair because SOMEONE (looking directly at me) didn't put the brush back!"

Never mind that I have naturally curly hair and NEVER, EVER use a brush. (Lest you think I run around looking like a frazzled cave woman, I do use a hair pick.)

Meanwhile, Peanut (8) is stomping and screaming at me because I "am making her wear a shirt that is too big!"

Never mind that to any other human being it would be a perfect fit. She demanded that I come to her room and find her something else to wear. I told her to pick out ANY OTHER hot pink shirt in her closet (of which she has many).

Nope still not good enough.

I don't care if she ends up wearing some crazy, mismatched outfit to school. The teachers will know it is of her own doing.

By this time my patience is wearing thin. She continues to scream from her bedroom "but I don't know what to wear!" I tell her to wear ANYTHING else in her closet. A -N-Y-T-H-I-N-G!

"You NEVER help me! You NEVER do anything for me!" She shouts.

Meanwhile, Einstein informs me "I wish Daddy was here. You NEVER HELP us! You NEVER do anything!"

I am thinking who the hell picked you up from school, made dinner, washed your clothes, read with you, helped you with your homework, drove you to pottery class, led a Brownie meeting, talked to the neighborhood tormentor?

I told him I too wished Daddy was here so I would have some help. So I wouldn't have to do everything.

"EVERYTHING? Ha..you don't do anything." He says glaring at me while his sister shrieks and stomps and we can feel the floor vibrating from the next room.

And that there folks, that was the camel breaker.

THE. LAST. STRAW.

"You better get moving since you are walking to school today." I say in the calmest, most detached tone I can muster.

You can only imagine how well this went over.

"You can't seriously expect us to walk to school? We're going to be late AGAIN! It's cold! You HAVE TO take us."

No, no I don't have to drive people who are rude and blaming me for everything. A ride to school is a privilege not a right.

Einstein starts pleading me with, then stomping and yelling, telling his sister to hurry up, what an awful mom I am for making them walk to school.

Stinkbug (4) is woken up by all the drama. He is pissed that I am not driving them to school and throws himself on the floor crying, "But I like taking them to school! We HAVE to take them to school!"

Everyone in the house is crying, stomping, screaming. Good times I tell ya!

I overhear a brief plan of them calling the police on me. Then they decide they will just TELL me they are calling the police.

Einstein is trying to wait on Peanut and is even offering to help her. I thank him for it but I am still not playing taxi driver to rude, insolent children.

As they scurry out the door I tell them to have a good day.

And then I pop open my can of coke. It can only go up from here right?

How would you have handled it?