The Facade – by Galit B.

Today Galit shares a piece of a memory and how it affects her now as a mother. She has a gift with words so be sure to check out her blog, These Little Waves.

* * *

I scrape my feet against the sidewalk. A breeze blows wisps of my banana-clipped hair against my cheeks.

I hear their steps, see their shadows, feel their presence.

My heart, drums.

My face, flushes.

My fear, overwhelms.

They form an unbreakable circle around me flinging words and jabs and insults.

I look down, will them to disappear.

A car rumbles forcing my eyes up. My mother pulls into the circle, stops in front of us.

They talk to her in syrupy sweetness, make an opening for me to pass through. She smiles and waves and greets them as I rush to the car.

One of the girls calls, “Good bye Galit!” Her voice ices through me.

I lean my forehead against the window- the only barrier between them and me. They turn on their heels and walk away. My eyes follow them, I release the breath that I didn’t realize I was still holding.

“How nice that your friends waited with you!” My mother says. Her words wash over me. I don’t respond.

***

Awhile back Kelly asked me to share my Mean Girls story. I sat down to write and found myself staring at the screen longer than I care to admit.

I’m so busy! I said.

I’m overdrawn. I explained.

The words, they’re just not coming. I excused.

And deep inside I thought, Why? Why open these wounds? Look at them with fresh eyes? Why hurt again?

I’m not the same girl that I was then. I would never let anyone treat me that way.

But while these experiences are in my past, I’m the mother of three young children which plants my feet right back in that circle, learning how to maneuver girls and friendships and personalities.

Today my children are so very lucky. They enter new situations assuming only one outcome- smiles wide, fingers laced, friendships made.

My heart aches to protect them. To keep them from learning that sometimes people are thoughtless, cruel, and yes- even mean.

I realize that I can’t be there for every twist and turn that they take. Nor do I think that would be best.

So what terrifies me at my core is the thought of my children experiencing a Mean Girls moment and me not knowing, misunderstanding, even encouraging the friendship.

It’s imagining them silently leaning against the window that pushes me to puzzle piece what to do, how to teach, when to step in.

Perhaps I’m not digging beneath the surface of these painful memories as an adult, I’m doing it as a mother.

***

Thank you Kelly for having me here today. And for pushing me to write. And for not questioning me when I couldn’t {wouldn’t?} get the words out.

Galit: Thank you for sharing a piece of your story. I sense there is much more, but for you it is best left in the past – except for the small piece to help you as a mother. This one small piece hits every parent’s fear.