My 42 year old 7th grader

No, I am not currently in 7^th grade.

No, I did not get held back.  Although, it might look that way given my horrible grammar and punctuation offenses. 

And no, my 7^th grader does not possess the maturity level of a 42 year old (20-something on some days and 2-something on others…take your pick).

So maybe it should read ‘My INNER 42 year old 7^th grader’ – that’s probably more accurate. 

Quite frankly, I am feeling a little duped here.  I completed 7^th grade…let’s just say, a long time ago, ok?  I, as I like to say, 'did my time'.  I dealt with ‘mean girls’, I got made fun of by the boys, and lemme tell ya - being a redhead back in those days, was just one more source of material to be ridiculed.  Much scarring BUT, I am no worse for the wear.  My baggage coordinates and I've had years of counseling - HA!!!  Suffice it to say, I have had my share of feeling awkward and left out, not being included in the ‘cool’ stuff. 

Did. Done. Over. 

Thank you very much.

BUT WAIT!!!!  I have a 7^th grader now!  

And 

What. 

A. 

JOY it is to RELIVE it all! 

O. M. W!!!

It’ll be a miracle if either of us live through this. 

But I digress.  

It’s a shame really.  You graduate from high school, you think, “Aahhh…finally.  I can redefine who I am!  Goodbye to Buffy (I didn’t even change her name to protect her.  Buffy.  That. Was. Her NAME!!!!  Good heavens).  Good bye Trent, you studly jock who will be bald at our 10-year reunion!!  Good. Bye.” 

And I’m sure they’re off, living their lives (wait, let me get their FB status…just kidding).  I imagine Buffy is no longer a cheerleader and Trent, indeed, lost some of his hair.  THAT SAID, now it’s Meg’s, the Shelby’s and the Lucy’s (these names WERE changed – they are children for peet’s sake).  It never occurred to me that the mean girls and the jocky-jocks would REPRODUCE and (sheesh o’ live) raise miniature versions of themselves!  And why not?  That’s what I am doing!!! 

Let me tell you – it’s one thing to go through it and be on THIS side of the equation.  It is quite another to WATCH your child wallow through the mucky-much of it all.  Truly gut wrenching.  The exclusions from the ‘cool’ kid outings, to listen to what the mean girls say to your child, not to mention what she overhears those girls say to other kids.  Dare I say, it’s like living through it all over again.  Hence, The 42 year old 7th Grader.  Ouch.

And there in lies the beauty of it all.  While I want to punch the occasional adolescent in the face for their ignorant behavior, or when I exercise self-control while I try NOT to roll my eyes at the umpteenth story on the latest crush (gag me), I can provide the wisdom and hope for my 7^th grader.  She welcomes it so well too, she loves to listen to my inspirational droning...sigh (just kidding…she, too, humors me in listening and is working on that whole self-control of the eye rolling – hee hee)

Let me just say – parenting is NOT for sissy’s.  It is a fine balance between the mama bear that wants to roar on up to the school and tell the Meg/Shelby/Lucy what their dismal future will be if they continue to generate such negativity.  But the real kicker is that THEY are muddling through it too! They just are not doing it very nicely AND it's at the expense of my child, yes??  (And here's another question - does THEIR mom think / know that they're raising the mean girl?)  

Being a mom to my three girls and having the adult relationship I have now with my own, the whole thing is quite…beautiful.

How did MY mom not want to cut my life short on a DAILY basis?  I was ten times worse than my kiddo.

How did she watch and have to just…well, watch, as I figured it all out?

It’s one thing to watch your baby get their bearing, figure out those legs as they learn to walk and take a few falls.  A few tears, kisses to make it all better.  It’s quite another to walk with your pre-teen through the matters of the heart, as they work it all out, take a few falls – kisses are all well and good, but for the life of me…it hurts.  It hurts to watch, but oh so necessary.

And I love it.  (most days – let’s not get too la-dee-dah here, I’m a realist!)

I once heard somewhere… I GET TO!!  I GET TO go through this with my girls.  It IS hard. There ARE days I think my eyes WILL get stuck in the back of my own head!  And yet, I was the one assigned, hand-picked, if you will, to help these three, precious girls.  

What' is even better - I get to simultaneously kiss bruised knees AND bruised hearts!!!  

Muddling through...

Humbled, buoyed and blessed -

Mama Fox