I Can't

I remember posting that I thought this would be a long summer. I was wrong.  The kids begin again; my son in middle school, my daughter into 8th grade; headin for high school soon guys. OI!!!  In spite of some hiccups, we've had a good time for the most part.  But now, the kids are nervous.

"Mom, I don't know if I can do this." My son says in a quivering little boy voice that I've not heard all summer.  "I don't know where to go. I don't have my locker. I can't remember what my advisory is..." the anxiety forces his speech into warp speed.

"You can. It will be all right" I smile. We've been talking about it since the beginning of August.  We've walked through the school to memorize the pathway he wants to take. He is working so hard at being prepared and to avoid the detention he will get (... as the speaker during the orientation so emphatically stressed) for being even a minute late. He has checked with his friends and they are not in his advisory although they are in his core.  He wants to have them in his classes. Me too.

And without a word, his sister gets his copy of his schedule and rewrites it so he knows where he's going and at what time.  All information is color coded. The relief is palpable. His grin stretches wide and he gushes about how excited he is.  Patiently his sister tells him step by step where to go. He hugs her but she twists away and tells him he smells.

Later my little heroine comes to me and sits on my bed.  I stop writing and look up, puzzled by the tears in her eyes.

"I can't do it. I don't want to see those girls this year. I don't have any friends left. I'm alone...Mom...what do I do?"

I look away wiping my own tears for her quickly while pretending to mark my place.  The long short of it, is that my daughter had some girls who used to be her friends.  Used to be. If you ARE a girl here is the summary: There were three of them. Nuff said? There can never be three.  There is always one who will take the "beating" It was simply Maddie's turn and she was unprepared for the cold shoulder, silent treatment or for any of the nasty emails to hurt so much.  It has been a painful lesson for my lil girl. One I wish she never had to learn. But she is determined to walk in chin up and stand tall. I want to be just like her when I grow up.  She is brave and I admire her courage.

I've helped them get their bags ready. We've done the lunch drill, the clothing drill, the bus drill...and the drill to drive it all home. They confidently shake their heads when I quiz them:

"How many days to you buy?"
"Two Mom Two."
"Who is the only one who showers in the morning?"
"You Mom You"

But with all that laughing and cockiness, I see it. The nerves, the fear and the reservation.  We talk some more at the kitchen table ( the safest place in our house). I get solemn nods but I know. Deep down, they wonder if they can.

What do I want to do? I want to walk behind my son for the first day, showing him where his classes are, helping him get in and out of his locker fast enough, surviving the lunchtime speed round. I want to be sure he isn't picked on or told that his class is easy to get to if he would just take the elevator to the pool on the second floor...

What do I want to do?  I want to have my daughter find instant friends who will laugh at those others and say "Where have you been? We've been looking for someone JUST LIKE YOU....just like us...." and the flowers will sing and the birds will flit around her head like Snow White; pooping on those bad mean girls with unspeakable ferocity and volume.  I want to hang out at my daughter's locker and wait for those miserable little "hay-tahs"  I want to trip them. I want to be as ugly and childish as they've been.

But I can't.  So I will let my kids go and they will make it; surviving the war zone known as middle school and becoming a little stronger, a little wiser and a lot better.

Happy School Year.