Even the most mild-mannered Mom will become unglued when there is an injustice toward their child. The first column I wrote for The Chief was inspired by the ways we as parents celebrate milestones, achievements, and birthdays. Now my quest to relate to Mums comes, full circle.
I have found that the Mama Bear instinct is quite real. Grr. There are a series of buttons we all possess, buttons that can turn even Mild-Mannered Mary into Fire-Breathing Frieda in a matter of a second. Non-plural.
I have been a "Frieda" my whole life. I'm rather comfortable in the fire-breathing dominion. There is a reason the term "mama bear" is synonymous with protecting children. To look at her while sleeping, the lumbering, sweet as pie Ursus Americanus, will not remain that slumbering, easy going gal once her cubs are in danger. Danger of what? Being threatening in any way, shape or form. The Mama Bear has a fierce reputation in nature as one tough lady. When it comes to her cubs, a legendary protectiveness combined with her mothering skills is the standard by which all maternal instincts, human included, are measured.
I must be completely stupid. I thought a child's party was about the, birthday, baptism, bah mitzvah, boy and/or girl. To my repulsion, this past weekend and its lingering memory of ill behaved adults was only too clear. Yet again, the adult agenda lurks under the slimy algae-green surface, an undercurrent of selfish motives, an arena for bitter and envious folk to come and passively aggress their own incompetence to a captive backyard crowd. Stop. Rewind. Play.
"We still talking about a kids' thing, right?"
" Yes my internal voice of reason and common sense, we are!"
It is ironic and na茂ve to hope a child's celebration be played out as childlike rather than childish.
What did I learn?
What have I learned?
Documented in the amygdala part of my brain - which is the critically involved section known to compute the emotional significance of events. Stay with me here! That's just geek speak for the place you store recollections. What I have deduced over the past few years since the birth of my children is this: People and/or human sorts who don't have, can't have, don't want, don't like or can't stand children are the first to envy, snide, snipe and chide. They find it intoxicating to pick on someone not their size. With no ammunition they stage passive aggressive wars. Hoping to bring down others and elevate themselves. Not in my cave! Grr. I have the glorious forum of pen, paper and nerve. Add a dollop of good ole Mama Bear instinct and you've got a fight on your hands.
So who are the Nasty Nesters' and Nelly's in question?
They come in all shapes and sizes. They are the great job, car and house people. They are also the failed diets, marriages, and rotten hairstyles Oops, I mean hairstyle, people.
I guess 1985 was not only a good year for wine.
They can dish it out, but can't take it people. Mama Bear instinct? You bet.
A carefully orchestrated party takes time, an organized mind, skillful chef, open wallet and heart.
Oh God no, not me.
My Mom is that master. Yay Nanny.
My recent disappointment can be wrapped up in two words - scary clown face. One. Two. Three. Okay, three words. Clowns with weird clothes and black face paint, to very young children, can be frightening. I still don't like clowns. Nor Santa. Sorry Big Guy. A well- meaning gesture went from just that, well meaning to prospect of fisticuffs when pouty, middle-aged man refused to take off child scaring costume. Enter Mama Bear.
My current Family Feud will not be subject to what the "Survey Says". This survey says, when you're scaring children. You're wrong.
Grr.
The clown in question: a total Bozo.
