Mother May I..

Overnight, I’m becoming my mother...



When my mother was younger she was every bit as fun-loving, vibrant, and sweet as she is today. To know my mother, is to love my mother; and the list of her character traits I wish I possessed fully is an extensive one.

Growing up in one of the small towns Virginia has to offer, my mom was the carefree second child in a rather large family. She was your typical girl, and every morning she rose from the comfy consoles of her bed set to catch the bus to school. As small towns come equipped with even smaller schools, my mother and her fellow classmates were very familiar with one another. This is a feeling I know all too well, right down to the cliques and the social circles embedded in classrooms amongst young students, even then.

Pretty little girl that she was, my mother rarely met with issues of social cruelty, so she coasted along. Not everyone was as lucky.

Meet Polly-or the name we’ll give her; Polly attended the school under the radar of the social circles-or attempted to, I should say. You see, no matter how hard Miss Polly tried to walk the halls of this small Virginia school unnoticed, the “in-crowd” wasn’t having it.

If the theory that Charles M. Schulz created his “Peanuts” characters as true representations of school-age children stands correct, Polly could have been your “Pig Pen.” The kids taunted this girl non-stop; and the more it occurred, and the worse the taunts became, the more buried in herself she became. With the lack of confidence established, the ridicule became even more malicious. While the “in-crowd” sneered and criticized, other students-my mother included- stood by as spectators.

They mocked her clothing, her appearance, and all the harsh bullying comments you could imagine. Finally things took a turn, for what seemed to be for the better, and the “in-crowd” became less hostile-bordering on the friendly side even-towards Polly. This latest acceptance was both remarkable and a little far-fetched, but who doesn’t want to assume people have the best of interests in mind?

This new found companionship between one social scene and their former outcast seemed to be a refreshing alteration in the grand scheme of things, and the spectators were at ease.

Now the “cool kids” had a leader, as most do, and for the sake of this blog we’ll call that particular character: “Paula” (I’m into names that start with “P” at the moment, don’t ask me why), but Paula was your pinnacle for the “in-crowd.” In this small middle school in Virginia Paula was your captain mean girl, with looks to destroy even the eighth grade boys, and all the Polly teasing began and spiraled with her.

The day came that Paula and followers proposed that Polly join them for a sleepover on the softball fields in the neighborhood. Surely thrilled by the invite, Polly gathered up her sleeping bag and pillows and ventured to the field on said evening- only Polly found herself the solo guest at this party. Unaccompanied, and humiliated, she made the trek home in the night-hoping this embarrassing episode would never be revealed.

Yeah, right.

Monday morning the school bus stopped at the top of the neighborhood and all these characters climbed aboard. Polly in the back, sitting alone, face pointed to her feet. If only Paula could have deemed the weekend events satisfaction enough we could put this story to rest, but this wasn’t the case. The tormenting began and the “cool kids” rallied behind. The jabs showed no sign of subsiding, and my mother, sitting a few seats away witnessing this bullying affair, was fuming. Let me paint the picture.

The bus stops outside the school and these classmates form a line in the center row waiting to be released. Polly with her head down, not responding to Paula’s insults, and my mother waiting behind the group in line. The doors open, and each rushes down the stairs. Standing behind Paula on the bus steps, listening and outraged, my mother unraveled. She leaped from the top of the bus step, knocking the “in-crowd” leader from step two straight to the pavement.

So much for being the spectator..

Knocking the breath out of this girl wasn’t enough; my mother pounded this girl until my aunt Monica pulled her off. The morality in my mother couldn’t take the abusive scene anymore and she burst. Polly, as a girl too afraid to defend herself, had been caught in the middle of this injustice for far too long. It was my mother’s first, and last, fight.

Fast-forward to the present. If you know me then you know I’m the most non-confrontational person you will ever meet. My friends give me a hard time because I’m the girl people walk all over. I’ve never been in a fight. I never want to be in a fight, and I’m fairly certain if someone hit me, I’d lie down and wait till it was over. Maybe play dead, who knows. Point is I’m a total pushover.

…but not in everything

If you read my more recent blog you read the story of my Neglected Ex who’s “Bruised Ego” landed us in one awkward situation. Typically I’m a fan of the awkward situations, even when they involve me- they are almost always amusing. This instance though, I probably could have done without. I say this solely because in the aftermath, things got a little wild.

For a few days Neglected Ex stayed away, probably needed some time to clear his head- but apparently all that thinking only escalated the negative side of it all. So what does one Neglected Ex do post such an occurrence?

Seek out and threaten roommate of former girlfriend? Of course, I mean that’s what all of you would do, right?

What do I do to these guys?

Now, let it be known that I’ve witnessed plenty of my friends who have lived through the eruption of conflict. I’ve seen altercations face to face, through word of mouth, and these days..I’ve even seen it via text messaging (hilarious), but being the pushover I am I’m the venting partner for my friends. When conflict ensues, I’m the girl they vent too. I never push anyone to fight, because who am I kidding, conflict blows. Plus, have you ever met me? That chick from ICarly could kick my ass- but someone pushes my roommate around, and I’m furious.

Now I’m not going to pull a “mom” move and leap from the top of the bar to take out my Neglected Ex. It’s just not in me, but in the past where I supported and tried to calm down my friends in the heat of the moment, suddenly I’m protective. My mother taught me a lot of valuable life lessons; she’s the wisest woman I’ve ever known. However, the most important message she ever taught me was to stand up for yourself, thanks Mom:)

A push-over I’ll be no more. I don’t have it in me to be confrontational, but we’ve all heard it before “Stand for something, or you’ll fall for anything.” Well, color me a believer.