Green with anger

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It doesn’t happen very often, thank goodness. As a matter of fact, I can only remember a handful of times that it did happen.

But yesterday afternoon I turned into the Incredible Hulk.

It was all because of an email. My youngest daughter is participating in an event, but had not been given a schedule. Since the event required months of preparation and an overnight stay, I emailed the person in charge and asked if he could help fill in the details.

I was told in no uncertain terms (in a typo-filled email) that this was an event for my daughter and that I needed to step back and let her handle everything.

I love my children. If I perceive them to be in danger my claws come out and my fur ruffles up and I do turn into a mother bear. But that rarely happens since I reared strong, independent daughters who can handle most things for themselves.

But this man, this man who doesn’t know my daughter, felt he had the right to tell me to step back when all I was asking for was a schedule–well, he crossed the line. I skipped right over the mother bear stage and brought out the big guns (figuratively speaking, of course).

Because no one, and I mean no one, tells me I should step back and not be a  part of my child’s life. It brings out something in me that is rarely seen. Something primitive. Something powerful. Something hard to control that really does feel a lot like the Incredible Hulk.

I could feel it as it was happening. My pulse began to race, my breath to quicken, my muscles to swell. I looked down at my hands typing away at the keyboard and was not at all surprised to find they had turned to a deep shade of green.

It has happened before. Once when when a school librarian told me he knew better than me what my second grade daughter should read.

And again when a middle school principal told me that I should not trust what my daughter says because all children lie to their parents, all the time.

When will these people learn not to try to drive a wedge between me and one of my children. It makes me angry.

And they won’t like me when I’m angry.

What do you think?