I have had reason to reflect on my younger years lately. My children come to me and share their thoughts and disappointments and worries, and it sort of makes me laugh because they have so much life left to live, yet they are so worried that there is not. My daughter, for instance, is all upset lately that she is never going to fit in. She is in 3rd grade. Sadly, the cliques and name calling and being mean because you aren't perfect (like kids this age know anything about perfect) has all begun. "I don't want to be your friend because you don't where the same cool shoes I do." It is so trivial and so immature, but that is her little social world. Then I remember when I was her age. We moved the summer before I started 3rd grade. We had gone to a Catholic school with about 15 kids per grade to a public school that had 25 kids in each class, and my grade for the district had over 300 kids in it. Talk about culture shock. You want to talk about feeling out of place. But I managed to make some friends that year. Of course, I had the mean teacher who had every student believing that she had a belt in the bathroom where she took kids who were bad and spanked them. I would like to see how that kind of discipline would fly these days. I don't think she really did that, and I was a good little girl and kept out of trouble anyway. There were a couple of boys though who went to the bathroom almost daily.
I think about those days and can't believe it was so long ago.
My younger son is 12 1/2 and in 7th grade. He is in the middle of a dilemma of trying to fit in, but trying to be an individual. At that age, it is near impossible to do both at the same time. He has those days of being glum and sad about his life, but then he has those days of being happy to be who he is. I think about 7th grade and my best friend Debi. I remember a boy laughing at me one day in class because I had a close fitting t-shirt on and you could see the seams going horizontally on my bra cup. It was a 'training' bra, and they weren't very flattering to begin with, but he had to point it out loud enough so several people could hear. Well, if that didn't just make me feel like a freak. It was in Social Studies class with Miss B. She was quite a woman. She would get talking so fast that she would have drool coming down out of the corners of her mouth. NO KIDDING! She also taught French to those who chose to for their free period. I was thinking study hall would have been a better choice after the 10 weeks we had that going on. Socially, I started feeling like I fit somewhere. Debi and I became best friends and we spent a lot of time together. So, I am hoping for my son that someone comes into his life soon that will be his best buddy and he can feel more like he belongs somewhere.
My eldest. Nearly 15 and wanting to drive every time we have to go somewhere. Driving for him until his birthday means backing out of the parking spot and driving down our long driveway. I let him drive a couple of miles yesterday when we went to our friends' house to pick something up. It was just on the back dirt roads for about 2 miles, if even that far. He was all nervous and being overly careful. I must admit, I was not such a good passenger, but we made it there. I let him drive just as far back and took over the wheel just as we got to the paved road. He got a taste of driving at least. Now, I can hold it over his head about getting his permit if he doesn't straighten up his act! Yes, 14 going on 24. He knows everything. We (his parents) are stupid. Sound familiar? If you have ever raised teenagers, I am sure it does. One minute he is the mature, helpful, hard-working young man. The next minute, he is the bratty, mouthy, selfish, self-righteous adolescent. I don't know how their switches change so quick, but he surely has a switch that flips in a heartbeat sometimes. Is it hormones? Is it stress? Is it lack of sleep? I have no idea, but there are times when I look in his eyes and I just have to relax and let him blow up, then send him to his room, and hope he will sleep it off before I have to deal with him the next day.
Was I like that? I am sure there were times when I was his age that I got just as angry at my parents. Just as angry with my younger sister as he does his brother. I felt just as enraged at times too. I worked hard and did my best at school. It is a sucky age though, being a teenager. You are no longer a child, but you are not an adult yet either. You want to be grown up, but you don't really want to let go of those little perks of being a kid. I remember oh too well how all that felt, and I can empathize.
One time, my brother and I and some friends bought tickets to go to a concert. It turned out that it became so foggy that to try driving 35-miles to get to the concert was just stupid. I was still determined that we should go, in fact, I was sure my brother and our friend ditched me to go to it (and they might have and I never knew about it). I went across the street from our house and tried calling them on the pay phone and my father came over and dragged me home, well, I wasn't really dragged. He told me I was a fool and no one was going anywhere in that fog. I was so mad and I went in my room and cried. It was so unfair, and I had paid for my own ticket too. Well, in hindsight (years later) I thought back to that night and realized what a dumb ass I was being. I would tie my kids up to keep them off the road on a night like that. I was just so young and ignorant and selfish about the whole thing, but it took years to be able to see that.
My husband and I have three wonderful kids. They are good hearted, strong willed and they can make things happen for themselves. I know these times they are going through are just part of growing. I wish I could make them see that this is all just a short part of their lives and they will get through it, that there is so much life beyond their school years. But I can't. They have to live through this and like me they have to find out for themselves what is really important, what really matters, and what really doesn't. So, for now, I can hug away the tears and hurt feelings a little and give them words of encouragement and support. I can tell them over and over and over and over that this too shall pass. One day, I am sure they will come back and say, "Mom, you were right." And of course I am, I am the Mom.
I have been there and done that and I survived, and so will they.
CC
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