Anyhoo, this year our anniversary celebration overlapped with the day that Savannah's class list is posted for an hour enlightening us with which teacher she will have for second grade. Also (small voice) what bitches I'll have to deal with.
Since our school district is now practicing "looping", where teachers try to advance along with their students thereby minimizing the changes and challenges for the kids, I was pretty confident that Savannah would keep the same teacher and the same class. We had been "warned" that some teachers may feel it necessary to move some students around to teachers "better suited for the child's needs" (read: I'm about to lose it on this kid). But other than that caveat it seemed second grade would be a nice carbon copy of first.
Chris had to work anyway so he was
I anxiously awaited Chris' phone call Friday.
At 2:02 p.m. the phone rang.
"She has Mrs. Teacher again."
"Oh, awesome." I responded, a mouth full of caramel corn.
I swallowed hard.
"Macy's kids are in her class."
"...WHAT THE HELL?!"
Macy is Girl B.
The mom who pretended to be my best friend all through kindergarten.
The mom who pretended to be my ally while the much more transparent Girl C viciously tried to exclude me from everything .
The mom who I hung out with every day for nearly a year.
The mom who knew she was my only friend in our brand new town.
The mom whose daughter was Savannah's best friend.
The mom who fed me all the dirty details of how much Girl C hated me...in the interest of "just letting me know".
The mom who had a Mother's Day party in her back yard. One month before summer started. And didn't invite me. But did invite Girl C.
And her backyard was across the street from my house.
So that I got to watch the party.
And so did my daughter.
The mom who acted surprised that I was hurt.
The mom who, after I cried to her, responded by literally turning her back on me every day at school.
The mom whose husband started ignoring my husband.
The mom who completely cut my daughter off from her best friend.
Without warning. Without explanation.
The mom who, after being one of my closest friends, now goes out of her way to avoid me while I do the same.
Macy is a Mean Girl all grown up. A Mean Mom.
The gray hairs may be sprouting and the ass may be spreading and the prom queen photo may be fading. But mean is forever.
I was sick over this news. First grade had been so pleasant and now what was I in for? I wondered how I should act toward her. Should I be nice? Hug her? Ignore her? Push her down? Wish her a happy 50th? ...She's 43.
These thoughts ran through my head as Savannah and I approached the school playground this morning.
And then as soon as Savannah's friends caught sight of her, she was literally swarmed. She ran to meet them, their little faces lit up with the joy of friendship.
These are little girls that have fought, that have been mean, that have said "you're not my friend anymore". But, now all is forgiven and forgotten. The time and distance provided by the summer break has renewed their fondness for each other.
I couldn't help but wonder if maybe I could take a lesson from my 7-year-old. Maybe by focusing on this genuine kindness I could actually pull my head out of my ass.
I saw Macy standing to the side watching them too. I walked up to her, put a smile on my face, cheerfully said "hi!", she said "hi!" pleasantly back, and then I proceeded on to my friends. And that was it. No passive aggressive behavior. No cutting comments made with a smile. Just polite and mature.
It's like I'm actually growing up.
And I have my 7-year-old to thank.
The world might be a better place if we all remembered how we felt at seven.