Have been laying here with my broken foot, watching What Not to Wear with DD#2. She is a seventh grader. Is there any woman out there who looks back and says “OMG, I loved seventh grade!” ?
I think not. I have done an incredibly unscientific study of the matter, and I have have learned that if you just mention the words “seventh grade” to 10 women, at least seven of them will immediately say “Ughh! Worst year of my life” or the equivalent. If you go a bit further and ask the other three “Did you like seventh grade?” They will either say something like “Are you kidding” or suddenly find that they are running late for an appointment, would love to chat, catch you later.
My kid is having the friendship trauma that is de rigeur for the middle year of middle school — tears, frantic IMing, “Madison told Lily, who told Tasha, who told me. . . ” and all the other things we all remember so fondly. I am so glad I don’t have to live through it again. Except vicariously.
Her big sister and I keep telling her she will just have to live through it, but it hurts to listen to her cry like her little heart is broken because somebody said something to somebody else. Last night it got to the point where I finally said, “Sweetie, sometimes you just have to let go and let God. There is nothing else you can do.” I wanted to just haul off and yell “I got nothing here! I don’t know what to tell you and I cant make it hurt less!” But moms can’t admit that they don’t know, so I just said we would have to pray about it.
On the upside, I can look at the hs senior, who seriously had the seventh grade from Hell, and say, “She made it, and even though some of it was horrible, she is the stronger for it.” My big one has turned into someone I really like. I just hope and pray the little one finds her way through.
And, as a writer, I am mining this situation for all the angst I need for Lady Anne and the gang during their Come Out Season. The Haute Ton in 1811 seems to have a lot in common with middle school.