"Goddamnit! You little bastard."
These four words have been stuck in my head like a pesky piece of chewing gum on the bottom of a shoe. No matter how hard you try to get rid of it, there is always that one piece that sticks around (pun intended) to cause havoc throughout your day.
Since Sunday, a day that was supposed to be filled with soccer and the celebration of motherhood, I have not been able to shake this internal flame that is burning deep in my heart. It's not the type of flame that one develops through an undying love for someone. Instead, this passion falls at the opposite end of the spectrum, where the only color you see is red.
Not the I-love-you-this-much red. It's the red that causes you to lose focus. It blurs your vision and forces you to reflect on the person or thing that is responsible for getting you to that place.
It was she. She is a "mother", too.
Although, her actions make me question whether or not she is deserving of this title.
But make no mistake...she is NOT a woman.
As she raced onto the soccer field to rescue her "hurt" child, both sidelines waited patiently. It was only the first...second...maybe third time the referee had stopped the game for him alone. Ironically, flops, falls and injuries are a normal occurrence when playing this particular team. Someone obviously missed the memo that soccer is a contact sport.
Instead of leaving the field quietly, she turned to my son— MY CHILD, MY SWEET BOY—and uttered a lethal dose of words.
"'Goddamnit! You little bastard.' That's what she said to me."
Hearing Kaden repeat those words to both his Dad and me cuts deeper than the moment it occurred.
I am wiping away tears now.
They are flooding the keyboard with salty drops of pain that have gone steadily from my eyes to my lips.
My emotions are running wild.
Nothing in this world is strong enough to contain them (except for the love a parent has for their child).
No words of comfort or gestures of embrace are sufficient enough.
But they are appreciated.
Her words were filled with venom and came from a place of hatred.
She wanted my son to hurt.
Instead, Kaden sat there. Presumably puzzled.
Heck, he doesn't even know what a "bastard" is or what a crazy person was attacking him.
And WE— me, his Dad, my family and friends— were expected to remain calm.
And I did because I knew my support system was in place.
I knew that someone had to remain focused within the moment.
I knew that I would have to recall the events with a clear head.
I knew that this issue would be bigger than that day.
And it is!
Situations like this lend themselves to an onset of victimization.
People— even those on your side— try to flip the script and make it appear that they are in fact the ones who were faulted. But I am always one step ahead.
No one said a word to her as she returned comfortably to her sideline, shielded from the scrutiny of our people.
I could hear comments along the lines of, "this is about the boys", yet no one stood up for my boy.
Many of them were too busy attacking us for responding to the situation.
That's quite easy to do when it's not your child being BULLIED.
Not just that day, but the weeks before.
The same. F'n. Thing.
And we were reminded several times by someone in OUR ORGANIZATION, that she was "doing a lot for us". As if it were a favor. Like this issue only dealt with my child and not the entire team.
I thought that was in her job description. Correct me if I'm wrong.
I want and I need people to know that I do not play when it comes to the unethical treatment of children or people. I would never leave the well-being of my child in the hands of a single person, one whose motives are questionable and wavering.
I had the hardest time figuring out if she was even on our side.
I guess the fact that she never opens her mouth to speak, acknowledge or offer an ounce of positive encouragement to THE PEOPLE SHE'S DOING A LOT FOR gave me this idea.
Her behavior, in which I caught on camera by the way, also proves that she was never in for us.
But enough about her shortcomings.
Enough is enough.
I have the best family and friends. We stick together. We fight for what is right. We defeat what is wrong.
Sunday was the biggest display of fraudulent characters I have seen in my life.
A lot of people hid behind a mask of political correctness and completely changed who they were because "big brother" was watching.
We remained ourselves.
There was no reason to change.
Except when you're afraid to expose the real you.
And that's what happened with this person; she could no longer contain her hatred towards my son.
She revealed the bully inside.
If Ian and I can make one promise to our child it would be this: we will never let anyone intentionally hurt you. We have your back.
This is going to be a long process.
A process that will test one's strength.
I do not care what friends I lose along the way (I eliminated some people already after Sunday's game), what is said about me or how hard this journey may be...
JUSTICE WILL BE SERVED!