When Your Kid Gets Picked On…

Last week Kaileigh came home from school and announced that she was not attending the upcoming birthday party for her friend. Of course I was shocked; the birthday girl had been a BFF for two years now. When asked about the situation, Kaileigh hesitated, and then allowed the story to unfold. It seemed, in a nutshell, that this girl had been teasing Kaileigh on the playground recently. Kaileigh was angry. And hurt. And as the story unraveled, I increasingly felt my skin become prickly and feverish. I was angry and hurt as well.

Do you remember those days? I thought I had forgotten, but it brought me right back. Her name was Megan and she supplied the commands. She was like a mini Machiavelli; she would rather be feared than loved. I wanted to play hopscotch; she regulated us to swing on the monkey bars. I liked the color pink, she demanded red. I felt comfortable in the gingham sun-dresses my mother made me, she ordered me to wear shorts instead. I thought I had a right to my choices, she insisted otherwise. She called me names if I disagreed: she said I was a baby for being upset. I remember deciding not to play with her anymore. And so I didn’t. I found new friends. And so that is what I told Kaileigh. Tell this girl that she is being hurtful and then walk away and play with someone else.

I know that boys have their arguments and then they punch each other until it works out. When they get older, they throw a beer in for good measure and then they are true friends for life. But girls are mean. They play games. They play favorites. Or even worse, they pledge undying friendship one day and the next day they ignore you at recess. And like boys, the manner in which we deal with each other holds true when we get older. Unlike boys, when girls decide that they don’t like each other anymore, there is no turning back: they will NEVER like each other anymore. And to take it further, girls will turn other girls against each other. The grudge becomes so overwhelming that it makes the Montagues and the Capulets look like babies splashing in the paddling pool. We don’t mess around.

Here’s the catch, though: I am one of those girls. I’ve had my share of difficulties with other females. And I talk some mean smack. Heck, I don’t think I could ever have a conversation with my sister without talking crap about someone we know. What else would we talk about? And grudges? I am the queen of grudges. Small, big, lifelong. There is a girl I still see pictures of on Facebook who just happened to have rubbed me the wrong way in the past. Annie. That bitch. I still will never lower myself to be on her FB list of friends. And this incident happened when I was eight years old. It obviously still curls my stomach.

And so the real issue is: how do I protect my daughter from girls who act like this? Who act like me? How do I protect her from becoming me? I know the answer, but it is so unfathomable, so crazy, that I dare not think it, much less put it in words.

I have to be the kind of girl that I want my daughter to grow up to become.

Dang. That sucks. Because it is so easy to take sides, talk poop, act mean. It is much tougher to say something positive, be kind, stand up for what is right, forgive. And that is ultimately what I want Kaileigh to do. But I am the role model. I am the example for her to follow, so I must do it first. I must show her how. I must give her the confidence that it can be done. And then when it is done, I must praise her for her efforts. Because it takes strength to be a good, decent person. To have empathy for each other instead of always trying to compete against each other, or think we are better than someone else. To connect instead of reject. But I believe that it is the only way we can truly be successful as human beings and find complete joy.

I guess I have to log on to Facebook and make Annie my friend. And for Kaileigh, I will.