I wanted to tell you a funny story that only a few people know about me and fighting. I hate fighting. I'm very non-confrontational. I will avoid a fight at all costs. (Except a good fight with my husband- I like making up!) BUT, I didn't hate it so much as a child. At least not with my sister. I never wanted to pick a fight with anyone else, but it just seemed to happen with her.
It happened everyday. One minute we were best friends, the next, in the middle of a cat fight. One particular day, we were suppose to be watering flowers for Mom. I wish I could say I remember the reason for the brawl, but alas, it is the outcome of the fight that was much more interesting. We happened to be in the front yard when one of us (probably me- I honestly don't remember) lunged at the other like a ravenous tiger to a baby deer (must've been me-- I'm writing the story, I can call myself a tiger if I like). Faces were slapped, hair started to fly, water ran down the driveway instead of into the flowerbed, and eventually..........it stopped. I walked away fuming into the backyard.
A good neighbor must have gotten an eyeful next door and took it upon themselves to take matters into their own hands. 10 minutes later a Sheriff showed up in the driveway. Curious, I sauntered back to the front yard and joined my sister at the passenger side of the cop car.
"I had a call about a domestic dispute here. Is there a problem?"
My sister looked at me- then back at the Sheriff, "Not here sir, there's no problem here."
He glanced back at me and I nodded, "Must be the wrong house cause we're all good here."
He left with half a smirk on his face. As he drove out of sight my sister and I burst out laughing.
I do believe that was the last of our cat fights.
So.... now that I've ruined any sympathy I might have garnered over my childrens' fights, let me just get to the point.
My boys fight. A LOT. More than my sister and I. More than my brother Bryan and sister Wendy did........
No I take that back, not that bad............but still. I wish for it to stop.
My terrible mother made us hold hands and sing "Love at Home." I hated that. I tried it with my kids, I did. But the song still makes me cringe. So my latest attempt---stand there and hug each other until I'm over it. Don't know if it works, but they haven't fought in 1 hour, 17 minutes and counting.
1 hour, 18 minutes.......stop counting.
(real time update 12:34pm) "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.. that's my truck. Give it back you butt!"
(Guess I'm off to supervise some more hugging)
3 years ago