Chocolate Covered Almonds and Coffee
That's what I'm having for breakfast. It's delicious.
The Child tried to score a "mental health day" today. She's been allowed one a year since first grade. Now that she's in middle school I've upped it to one a trimester. Indulgent mama. But hey, sometimes people need a break. Unfortunately, she's already had her mental health day for this trimester, plus she was out sick 2 days already this week and hello, Christmas break is less than 2 weeks away. So instead we had a talk about friends.
She was feeling sorry for herself because she doesn't have any friends. Job one was reminding her that she in fact does have a number of good friends. "Ok, but not in my class". I start naming them.
"N is your friend."
"No she's not. She's only nice to me when you're around. When your not she sprouts little devil horns".
"I'm very sorry to hear that".
She was silent a moment. "But I think maybe it's because her mom has cancer".
It probably is. So we talked about how sometimes when people are worried or scared they push other people away so they won't be hurt anymore. "You need to let N know that she doesn't have to push you away, that you are there for her," I said.
"Yeah. I should do that." Another silence. "T isn't nice to me".
"Oh, T. That girl is a waste of space," I said. "Seriously, she thinks she's all that. She's a shallow little princess. Trust me, you don't need her friendship".
"No," said The Child. "And you know, mom, I don't think that many people really like her very much".
Then we spent some time celebrating the good school friends she does have. And I told her that when I was in school I didn't have that many classmates who were friends. Most of my friends were either younger or older than me. "That's actually still the case," I said. "I'm not sure how many friends I have now who are exactly my age".
"Papa."
"Yes. And Godmom. But truly, all my best friends are older or younger".
We talked about other stuff; about believing in yourself, about counting your blessings, about being the best friend you can be to those who accept your gift of friendship and not worrying about the rest of them because, after all, they are the ones missing out.
And I told her the beautiful, heartbreaking story JP wrote the other day. And about how so many of the comments left by others revealed that lots of people also felt that way growing up.
"And, Child, that's the point. Everybody, even attractive, intelligent, creative and wonderful people, sometimes feel lonely and like they don't have any friends. It isn't always easy being a kid. It's not fair but there it is. When you feel like that you have to remember that you aren't the only one and just try to reach out in kindness to someone else who might be feeling that way".
She looked very happy and peaceful when I dropped her at school. I hope she has a great day.
The Child tried to score a "mental health day" today. She's been allowed one a year since first grade. Now that she's in middle school I've upped it to one a trimester. Indulgent mama. But hey, sometimes people need a break. Unfortunately, she's already had her mental health day for this trimester, plus she was out sick 2 days already this week and hello, Christmas break is less than 2 weeks away. So instead we had a talk about friends.
She was feeling sorry for herself because she doesn't have any friends. Job one was reminding her that she in fact does have a number of good friends. "Ok, but not in my class". I start naming them.
"N is your friend."
"No she's not. She's only nice to me when you're around. When your not she sprouts little devil horns".
"I'm very sorry to hear that".
She was silent a moment. "But I think maybe it's because her mom has cancer".
It probably is. So we talked about how sometimes when people are worried or scared they push other people away so they won't be hurt anymore. "You need to let N know that she doesn't have to push you away, that you are there for her," I said.
"Yeah. I should do that." Another silence. "T isn't nice to me".
"Oh, T. That girl is a waste of space," I said. "Seriously, she thinks she's all that. She's a shallow little princess. Trust me, you don't need her friendship".
"No," said The Child. "And you know, mom, I don't think that many people really like her very much".
Then we spent some time celebrating the good school friends she does have. And I told her that when I was in school I didn't have that many classmates who were friends. Most of my friends were either younger or older than me. "That's actually still the case," I said. "I'm not sure how many friends I have now who are exactly my age".
"Papa."
"Yes. And Godmom. But truly, all my best friends are older or younger".
We talked about other stuff; about believing in yourself, about counting your blessings, about being the best friend you can be to those who accept your gift of friendship and not worrying about the rest of them because, after all, they are the ones missing out.
And I told her the beautiful, heartbreaking story JP wrote the other day. And about how so many of the comments left by others revealed that lots of people also felt that way growing up.
"And, Child, that's the point. Everybody, even attractive, intelligent, creative and wonderful people, sometimes feel lonely and like they don't have any friends. It isn't always easy being a kid. It's not fair but there it is. When you feel like that you have to remember that you aren't the only one and just try to reach out in kindness to someone else who might be feeling that way".
She looked very happy and peaceful when I dropped her at school. I hope she has a great day.
Labels: coffee, JP rules, snivelling little rat-faced gits, The Child
cobbled together by Moi at 9:30 AM
12 Comments:
What a good mom. For giving her mental health days, and for that other stuff.
Yeah, well you should have seen the look on her face when I told her your story. It was the utter shock. How could anyone not want to hang with the superfantastic Uncle JP? It made her feel a lot better.
The Child has my empathy.
When I was a kid, almost all my friends went to the public school down the road. My parents stuck me in a private school, where sometimes I felt pretty alone with all those dorks.
Oh, and I would also like to add, wacky in the wicky woo.
I'll pass that on to her, Iwanski. Except the "stuck in private school" part.
And that's wicky in the wacky woo.
Friends are better than action figures in most respects, I must grudgingly concede.
And it's not the number of friends that matters; it's the quality of the friendships. I didn't quite figure that out until high school, but when I did, it made being a nerd much more enjoyable.
I wish I had, had mental health days as a kid...
The Child is so lucky to have you. Remind her that her Uncle Buck had a volley ball coach for a mom. That should make her count her blessings.
BTW - just the other day, I wrote on a Post-It: "Let me be the hero of my own life." I love that.
LA, Indeed. While I do consider my Jane Austen action figure my best friend, I'd rather have a handful of truly great friends than a crowd of acquaintances. That's certainly part of The Child's lesson.
Mental health days, rock, Grish. I'm hopeful that when The Child is grown and you know, complaining about how terrible her parents were she at least remembers mental health days.
Thanks, Buck. And that's a very nice motto.
Jeez, you're such a cool mommy.
Yeah, well, the jury is still out on that, R7.
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