• Spray bangs into oblivion

• Try to figure out which friend is pissed at the other

• Get Mom a birthday and Valentine’s Day card because we’re not speaking and giving a card doesn’t require a verbal exchange

Some fifteen odd years ago this would probably have been my list of things to do.  I was in seventh grade, still a bit angry at having been pulled against my will from being a cool kid in public school to being a geek in private school.  I was a geek because all the rest of the kids at the private school had gone to school together forever; and though they were geeks, they thought they were cool – since I was not a part of them, I achieved the geek label.

Middle school was all about the hair, really.  Each morning I curled my bangs, sprayed, brushed out, curled, sprayed, brushed out, curled and sprayed the final coat.  Just like with a good paint job, you want to make sure it’s gonna stick without any streaks.  It was an art, really: an art that has faded into antiquity thankthelord.

Middle school was also about feelings – out of control feelings.  Who best to vent those feelings towards?  Your friends.  My group of friends (there were five of us) each had our roles: three constantly fought, while two of us acted as the Middle School U.N.

[Walking around the building with Amanda - I found that walking is critical in the negotiation process]
“Why aren’t you talking to Rachel?”
“She didn’t say hi to me this morning!”
“Okay, let me see what’s going on with her.”

[Walking around the building with Rachel]
“Amanda says you didn’t say hi to her this morning.”
“I didn’t see her!  Plus, yesterday she was talking to Peter.”
“And . . .”
“I like Peter.”
“I thought you liked Paul.”
“That was last week.  This week I like Peter.  And she was talking to him.”
“Okay, I’ll let her know.”

I seriously earned my Masters in Counseling at the age of 13.

And I earned the badge of Top Brat by being mean to my mom on Valentine’s Day which happens to double as her birthday.

Mommybloggers asked folks to write a post on love.  The one that came to mind was not about me loving my son in a mama-moment, but rather my mom loving me on this particular Valentine’s/Birthday.

We had fought about something silly I’m sure (the word “snarly” was often deemed to me at that age).  Usually we resolved it before engaging in the day’s events, but something happened to where we had to leave it hanging out there.  I went to school feeling all yucky inside: I had been particularly bratty to both of my folks, but man – who needs that on someone’s birthday?  It’s that nasty adolescent monster who took over: the one who yelled things at her parents when really she just wanted to say that it totally sucks being thirteen and pardon me while I have uncontrollable purging emotional episodes that should pass in a few years once I have a car and too many things to do so that we never get to see each other or realize that we actually like each other so this lingering image of your snarly child will remain imbedded in your mind forever and ever amen.

But it turned out to be not all that dismal.  Moping around school, I couldn’t get past the nasties: I was so mean to Mom.  The details are fuzzy, but I believe I received one of the best presents ever bestowed in a learning environment: a note from the office which is like receiving a comment from a well-known blogger: they like me!  They really like me!  And this note was the best: it said that my folks were coming to take me out to lunch.  Lunch usually consisted of a dry sandwich with dry pretzels and a healthy juice box (no CapriSun for our household).

My stomach dropped: they’re going to yell at me, I thought.  And they’re going to take me somewhere to do it – this is bad.  But the idea of being able to break out of campus in the middle of the day was too alluring, plus they knew where I slept, so they’d find me eventually.

We went out to a quirky little café by my school, had good food, and finally started to talk.  They talked to me like an adult for one of the first times I can remember, going over the ideas of communication and respect.  They explained how hurtful my behavior was, and I told them how sorry I was: they seemed to understand about the monster.  We all apologized for our behavior.  And then they let me go to a specialty gift store to pick out some candy to take back to my friends since it was Valentine’s Day: I picked out some cool hard fruit candies in a neat tin.

My mom gave me a gift on her birthday; she treated me special when I least deserved it.  She didn’t make the day all about what we would do for her; instead, she shared it with me.  To me, that’s love.  My hope is that I can be a mama who loves like that.

Mama Musings