But no! How naive of me to think such childish things. How could the bullying Dee has had to deal with be over and done with? Heck, who cares if there are important school board policies in place that specifically state there will be no bullying, and who cares if the principal and staff repeat how bullying and harrassment will not be tolerated, under any circumstances?
Ass is at it again.
And this Mama Bear is now full of a rage so vile, she can barely stand herself at the moment. As I write this, I am tucked away safely in my bed, with the door closed, because I couldn't handle the noise of the television downstairs, or Em continually telling the dog to stop licking himself, or just the presence of anyone anywhere within a 100-kilometre radius of my irritable body. There are other not-so-pleasant events going on to make me feel this way, but this one takes the cake.
My poor boy came home from school Thursday, when I was in the throes of projectile vomiting and simultaneous explosive diarrhea. And, in between hurls and moans, I asked him how his day was, since he had been sick for part of the week as well (nowhere near as ill as I've been, mind you), and since I always ask my kids how their days were, since I'm a good mom that way.
Dee was holding an ice pack to his head, which should have been my first clue. But, of course, since I was too busy making sure my contact lenses didn't fall into the toilet, I didn't notice right away.
Once my stomach and lower intestines had somewhat settled down, I continued the discussion with Dee.
And he told me that Ass had once again been harassing him at school all day long, and had pulled his hair so much at recess (the first recess, by the way, that Dee has even gone out since he's been sequestered in the office for the past month during recesses because of some minor abdominal surgery he recently had) that he got a terrible headache.
This time, he told his teacher as soon as he got into class (as he was told to do, so that it could be dealt with immediately), and the teacher patted his head and said, "Oh yes, just a game they were playing, eh?"
Then Dee asked if he could go to the office to get an ice pack for his head, and he told Stephanie the secretary what had happened, and she told the principal (I'm giving Stephanie a big smooch on Monday), who immediately went to the classroom and pulled Dee out and asked what had happened. Then she pulled Ass out to get his side of the story. And then she told Ass not to do it again.
My Dee told me he doesn't want to go to school anymore because of this kid.
And now I swear to god I am turning into the literal Mother From Hell. Better take the batteries out of the smoke alarms, dear, because there's gonna be a lot of smoke coming out of my ears.
Because I am pretty damn sure a kid who continually harasses and physically harms another child should not be allowed to continue doing said activities. And I don't care how much his mom volunteers at the school. Her son needs to be disciplined, and if his parents aren't doing it, then the school needs to do it. Because -- HELLLOOOOO?! --- my kid is over and done with being Ass' whack-a-mole, thank you very much.
I'm thinking that perhaps our last meeting with both principals didn't quite "take". Perhaps they didn't quite understand when Mr. Handsome told them that if something wasn't done, he was going to do something about it himself (no, we don't own a gun, but maybe we will after this weekend -- just kidding). Maybe the school officials need a little brushing up on their policies and procedures.
Monday morning, this mom is heading over to the school, come hell or high water, diarrhea and other flu symptoms or not, and I'm going to sit down with the principal (whom I actually like a lot), and I'm going to let her know that this is not going to continue. Not for another minute. Because it's going to end. Now. Right. Here. I don't care how they end it, but it's going to end. And I won't be leaving until it does.
This kid needs to be suspended for starters. His parents need to be made aware that their child is nowhere close to being the angel they think he is, that what he is doing is unacceptable and despicable, and that it's ultimately their responsibility to teach their child how to behave. And if they can't do it, or if the problem emanates from the household, then it's the school's responsibility to deal with it properly. And yesterday.
Because why should my vulnerable son have to suffer? Because he doesn't fight back? Because he's an easy target? Because he's a kind kid? Because he's afraid to punch Ass in the face because he knows it's only going to end up with him getting in trouble himself? Because the teaching staff don't seem to have the time or the inclination to care that a little boy is getting hurt? I don't think so.
I thought I was angry before, when Ass thought it would be fun to toy with my little boy. That was nothing compared to how I'm feeling now. Rage is not the word. In fact, I don't think the word even exists. That's how angry I am.
I'm glad I have the weekend to stew, so that I don't go into the office Monday morning with both pistols firing, because I'm liable to look like a total idiot, and that would do no one any good, least of all Dee. By Monday, I should be calm enough, yet still in gargantuan anger mode, to make my viewpoint very clear, and also look sensible and not like I need to get my straitjacket out of the dryer and put it back on.
To be continued...