Do you get it from your mama?

I’m not a tough man, but I’m certainly not a soft man. I never look for a fight, but when challenged I rarely back down. Oh and I hate bullies, in any form.

“He got it from his mama” the saying goes. Well, I certainly got it from my mama.

I was 11 years old back in Scotland, it was the school summer holidays. The Scottish sun was scorching… just joking, I wanted to make sure you were paying attention. The Scottish sun never scorches, hence my perfectly pale complexion. My friend Mike and I were hanging out playing outside his house. In the distance and along the long narrow street that ran towards Mike’s house, we saw Jake.

Jake MacMillan… oh Jake fucking MacMillan… the neighborhood bully. Trouble was an understatement. Usually I had sympathy for those tormented souls but I had zero for Jake. Zero.

Mike nodded to me, I turned and clocked Jake pacing towards us… “shit” I said as I quickly dug into my pockets but I could feel Jake’s laser focussed eyes on my hands as he got closer, so I spoke to Mike like everything was normal.

Jake approached us with his usual bloated confident swag, you see Jake was one of those guys that was too dumb to be scared of anything, his parents were drunks, and his older brother was already in prison. Jake was in the same grade as Mike and I but he was 2 years older, I will let you do the math on that one, lord knows Jake couldn’t.

Now almost face to face Jake looked at Mike and said “how much money you got on you?” Mike said “none” looking towards his house praying one of his parents would come out and intervene the stick up. Jake turned to me and said “how much money you got on you Easton?” I said “I got nothing Jake, honest”. Of course I was lying, I had a whopping 65 pence in change after spending 1 pound and 35pence at the corner shop on candy. Jake then deployed his usual tactic “alright fuckers, jump up and down”. This was Jake’s method, back then in the early 90’s change was a thing. He would make his victims jump up and down with their hands on their head so he could hear any change jingle in their pockets. Come to think of it now, Jake’s bandit entrepreneurship handsfree technique wasn’t too shabby. Now you might be thinking, ok so what? he takes your change big deal… well, a couple of things… one, your change you got from the corner shop was a big thing back then and two, if you had lied to Jake he would not only take your change he beat your ass for lying…. And they say there is no honor amongst thieves..

I rarely had change in my pockets. I either spent it all at once or I was always running and jumping so it would get in the way and fall out.

Well I knew what was coming next. As I jumped praying the change wouldn’t touch each other in my pocket; it did. His eyes lit up and he got right in my face… I can still see his beady eyes and the zits on his cheeks. He said “cough it up Easton”. I had no alternative, I glanced at Mike who gave me a faint hearted smile to say sorry buddy. I am surprised he didn’t run into his house and leave me, but as much as he might have considered the idea he stood with me, his friend.

there will be blood!

Jake punched me square in the nose and then pushed me onto the grass. I could taste the blood. I was ready to defend the next blow, maybe a kick? Maybe a flying punch? but nothing. Jake began to laugh, to be honest I didn’t think he was capable of such emotion. As I looked up at him, puzzled, he pointed to my shoulder. I had landed right in Mike’s massive dogs shit. I was now penniless, bloodied, stinking of dog shit, and mortified. I did what any 11 year old would do… I ran home.

Home was only 3 minutes away. I ran up the concrete steps to the front door, trying to outrun the smell of warm dog shit on my shoulder. I tried the door handle but it was locked. My house was never locked, never. My mum opened the big living room window which looked to the door and out into the street. She was proud because the council had recently fitted the houses of the street with double glazing. She had been cleaning them from the inside. She looked at me confused and asked me what was going on. I said “mum, mum, open the door, open the door”. Unphased, she looked me up and down pausing her curious gaze at my bloody nose and the shit on my shoulder. She said softly “who did this to you?”, I told her that I fell (note: why does every kid ever say this?). She then began to get angry, she said not so softly “who did this to you Paul?”. I told her that it was Jake. She asked why and where. I was impatient and wanted inside badly. She cared not. She paused and looked at me again, still from inside the window frame now open wide and said very slowly “You are going to go back over there and you are going to skelp Jakes arse or you will never get back in this house” (to “skelp” someone’s arse in Scottish means to kick someone’s ass). I was now horrified. My mother, my own mother, flesh and blood was not only not protecting me from the bully but she was adding extra pressure and a threat!

I said “fine then”, turned and headed back to Mike’s, but my super intelligent 11 year old, nearly 12 year old brain was operating at full cylinder, so I decided to hide around the corner so my mum wouldn’t see me. After 10 minutes (it was probably only 2 minutes in reality) I went back to my house and sheepishly said ”okay mum I did it, I kicked his arse”. This time she didn’t even play the game, she said “Paul if you don’t kick his arse right now I’m going to kick YOUR arse”.

Now let me pause here. My mother is the most determined, strongest, and bravest human being I know. I know we are supposed to say that about our parents, but I mean that shit. She is bold like a lion and her kindness to those that need it is relentless. However make no mistake about this; I am more scared of my mother than I am any other person on this planet, especially at 11 years old. No disrespect dad.

Jake never stood a chance. I didn’t respond to my mum, I turned and walked back to Mike’s house, that 3 minute journey felt like 10 seconds. They were still there, Jake probably not letting Mike go, maybe you could say Jake was looking for a friend and was just misguided. I didn’t give a fuck. I could smell the fresh shit on my shoulder as I walked up to him, I landed a right hook on his cheek, then another, then another, he fell over, I sat on him and punched him left and right until Mike’s dad magically appeared and pulled me off him. I took off my shirt and threw it in Jake’s face.

I walked home, this time it did feel like 3 minutes, I never once looked over my shoulder as I knew Jake wouldn’t be back. I walked up the concrete stairs, this time smelling no shit, my mum looked at me and then opened the door. We never said a word about it that day, that night, or ever.

3 minutes

I didn’t see Jake around much for the rest of the school summer holidays, but when I did he would cross the street, literally and would look down at the ground. I wasn’t proud of what I did, but I didn’t regret it either. It was like I had blacked out and became this 11 year old Mike Tyson. When I saw him at school that semester we avoided each other. Jake sadly didn’t last long at our school as he was moved out to a school for troubled youths a few months later.

I don’t hate Jake. Looking back I feel sorry for him now, because he was dealt a shitty hand in life, but at the time his lashing out and abusive behavior affected me directly so it was difficult for me to be compassionate and see anything but hate in that moment. I think this is true for all of us when it comes to situations that directly affect us, we struggle to recognize why the other person is acting the way they are towards us. That makes it extremely difficult to show kindness or compassion in that moment. It is hard to detach ourselves or zoom out and take the view from above to see that that person may be the one that is really suffering.

I strongly believe that most parents do the best they know how when they know how with their children, shit remember they are just figuring out life as they go also. “Top Ten 10 Parenting Tips for Boys” Get the fuck out of here. Those click bait articles are egotistical vomit. Yes there are common similarities and best practices in parenting but remember there are so many internal and external factors that can shape a child and a family. Parents… keep pushing, figuring shit out best you can, enforcing accountability, caring, listening, talking, yelling, apologizing, loving, crying, laughing. It’s an experience and all you can do is the best you know how when you know how.

My mother gave me the gift of teaching me how to stand up for myself by myself. I am sure it wasn’t easy for her to watch and take that gamble, maybe Jake would have given me a second skelping or maybe she knew I was a mini Mike Tyson, either way I don’t believe that was her goal. Her goal was teaching me to never back down from a bully, to stand up for what is right, and to create courage by learning to forget fear, even for just 3 minutes.

Thank you mum. I love you.

Paul