My Own Little Fight Club

We really would have been on time for school this morning.

We've had a problem with tardies, back at the beginning of the school year. The school sends increasingly disgruntled letters when you're tardy several times. And they take it out on your kids if you don't figure it out and get them there on time.

We've only been late once this semester prior to today. We've cut it oh-so-close a quite a few times. To the point where, even when we're on time, my reflexive parting words to the girls are, 'I love you, run like the wind!'

Mo was up in the night, at two for about a half hour, and again at (I think) three thirty. Long night. I didn't reach for a pharmaceutical solution this time, though I wondered if I shouldn't.

Then, of course, she turned out to be as hard to wake up when it was actually time to get moving as she'd been to get back to sleep. And I couldn't even blame a Benadryl still working its way through her system.

But we were making pretty good time. Dressed, shoes and socks included, teeth and hair brushed, etc. Backpacks on backs, time to go to the car, but, wait! Morning meds.

So I dole out the pills, and I'm putting the pill bag in Mo's backpack to send back to their mother, when Mo bends Em's fingers back (they'd been holding hands, and I think Em felt Mo trying to slip away and Mo reacted to Em's attempt to keep control of her position in the room), and Em yelped that it hurt. And before I could blink my eyes, Em reels back and smacks Mo with an open hand on the ear as hard as she could.

It happened so fast it took me a minute to even find words. When I found them, I saw Mo light up with glee: apparently the smack hadn't registered as painful, and I could almost see her delighting in having drawn a foul on her sister. I was, of course, angry at both of them, but unlike Em, Mo doesn't give a shit if I'm pissed off at her.

Plus, Em's offense was worse in a way. I think Mo was either trying to wrest a modicum of independence from her sister or was just plain playing around when she grabbed those fingers. She's done the same to me with no clear malice, and I can attest that it can be painful. She's a strong kid with no appreciation of her strength. If I had a dime for every time I've told her to be gentle, I'd easily have enough money to remodel my kitchen.

But Em's open handed blow was malicious. It may not have been premeditated, but she meant to hurt her sister. If she could have, in that instant, she'd have knocked that head clean off.

Here's my first problem: it's 7:50, school is ten to twelve minutes away and school starts at 8:10. But this is not something I can let slide.

My second problem, how to punish Mo. Em's easy; I told her she's not going down the street to the Friendship Circle this weekend, and if I'd told her she was going to a Gulag in Russia, she'd have been happier. But Mo... What, tell her no Oreos for dessert this weekend because she bent Sissy's fingers back to where they hurt? It's my best idea, and it's, to use Mo's favorite term, lame.

Third problem: despite Em's protestations that I don't understand, I totally understand. I wanted to murder my brother, and not just figuratively, for over a decade. I think it started when I was three or four and went all the way through high school. It's startling, considering how close we are today, but I'm not sure either one of us were truly incapable of fratricide back in the day.

But I also think one of my parents' mistakes was not doing more to combat our combat. Maybe they did all they could, but I don't want my kids to grow up basted in that much animosity with anyone, let alone each other. Things are complicated, too, by how uneven the fight is. My daughters are extremely close in age, but when you add Mo's autism into the equation, it's the emotional/verbal equivalent of an adolescent and a toddler.

We got to the school with a theoretical possibility we'd beat the bell, but Em looked like a kid who'd been crying (because she had been), and it was two minutes later than any close calls I could remember. So I walked them in, figuring an explanation to the school might prevent an inquiry into the morning.

Great quote I heard a while back on parenting: the days are long and the years are short.