The following is written by a guest blogger. The opinions expressed here are those of the writer and do not reflect the opinions of Bob Lacey, Sheri Lynch or the Bob & Sheri show.
If ever there has been a time to create a quality emergency kit,
buy ample bottled water and
buy some canned food:
Next week, my two middle daughters start Jr. High at a brand new middle school.
I just keep thinking about how they are about to feel even more things than they feel right now,
and the thought has me stress-texting my own mom begging her for rescue FaceTimes.
Batten down the hatches, friends.
We need to create a good Safe-Word.
Tessa, nearly two years younger than Chloe,
is in the same grade as her big sister because of skipping 3rd a few years ago.
The only thing bigger than Tessa’s brain is her attitude, and
the only thing bigger than Tessa’s attitude is Chloe’s stress level.
This is about to get even more interesting than it’s already been.
If only we could all wear Go-Pros…
They have been buzzing with excitement over new things like changing classes and having locker combinations.
They’ve picked their outfits, and even the scrunchies that they’ll for some reason only wear on their wrists these days.
I’ve smiled and told them I’m happy that they’re excited, but inside I feel like Jr. High me is peering out terrified, and whispering to them to be strong, and just hold on;
To not lose hope because of heartbreak, or cruel words, or the really terrible looking probably filled with mites band uniforms.
Oh, Junior high.
Why you gotta do us this way?
Jr. High was awful for me.
Not only was I chubby, but my mother was convinced that forcing me into a permed mullet was the very best life choice.
My mom liked easy, and somehow picking my hair sounded much better than brushing out the long hair of my dreams.
My sad mulletted head was forced to pull pairs of pantyhose onto it if I wanted to pretend I had pigtails.
I spent years, it felt, tucking my curly puffs into what was designed to be a waistline not a hairline.
None of the cute boys liked my permed mullet.
My chemically treated head,
it hung low.
How was I to know that that permed mullet was so much better, though, than what was coming next –
The Day She Stopped Perming it and Let My Dad Cut It.
A haircut resulting in grounds to have involved CPS.
My mind has been burdened with these memories, mixed with all the thoughts one has when their children start a new school.
Who will their friends be?
Who will see the good in them?
Who will hurt them, or tear them apart?
Will they rise back up and fight every time?
Will they talk to me when they feel pressured?
Will they talk to me when they are afraid?
In my experience Jr. High is the worst of all the life stages.
Awkward body changes, awkward emotions, awkward social interactions,
very awkward eyebrow growth.
And the crying.
There will be so much crying.
Theirs AND mine.
I would say I don’t know what I did to deserve two daughters entering it at the exact same time, but actually, I do.
This is exactly the kind of thing I deserved,
and I’m sure my nodding mother would wholeheartedly agree, if only for the fact that I keep publicly shaming her for my Jr. High hair.
There are so many things I want to tell Chloe and Tessa about this new stage, but I fear this, like so many things, is a group of lessons that can only truly be learned first-hand.
However,
in the hopes that they will listen to me and be spared some pain,
Here it is –
My Advice for Beginning Jr. High:
- Be the kind one. The one that includes. Scan the perimeters and notice the ones that stand alone looking in a lot, and be extra nice to them. The world is hard enough on those kids, it doesn’t need your help, too. Guaranteed at least one of them will grow up to be very powerful, and intelligent, and you’ll be glad you were on their side.
- At at least one point in the next two years something will feel like it’s impossible to overcome. It won’t be. You are way stronger than you can possibly know yet, and these lessons of how to stand through struggle will be ones you rely on for the rest of your life.
- It is my literal JOB to embarrass you for the next few years. I take this job very seriously. You might as well buckle down. One day you will look back on this fondly. I’m doing it for your long-term.
- There will always be a kid that doesn’t like you for no reason at all. That’s OK. Not everyone will be your best friend. What matters at the end of the day is if YOU like you, and from where I stand, that’s really easy to do.
- Put on deodorant. Again. Even if you already did it. There are things happening to the air around you that you can’t yet understand.
- Just because someone else is pretty, talented, funny, or smart doesn’t mean you are not also all of those things. You don’t have to compete with anyone for someone else to recognize the light that shines inside you. There is no max limit on amazing people. Hold your head high and become one of them.
- Compliment people. “I like your shirt.” “Your hair looks cute today.” “You’re really good at that.” Jr. High is full of enough insults. Try to balance those out one sentence at a time.
- Something you do or say in these next 2 years will be burned forever into someone else’s brain. They’ll tell their children about it. Make it something that makes them smile when they remember it 30 years from now.
- Be a good thing that happened to someone. Goodness is legendary.
- Every mortifying thing that happens to you will be a good story one day, I promise.
- You will screw one of these things up at one point, and that’s OK. We’re all human here. What matters is what you do with it after, and that you always know that no matter how much you feel like you messed it all up, or upset you are, or how out of control it all got, tomorrow is a new day, and I will always be here rooting for you. Probably with an air horn, because of #3.
Mom Outnumbered
Hi! My name is Kerri Green; Wife to Justin, and mother to four highly entertaining daughters -Alena, Chloe, Tessa, and Paige. I am an artist, a writer, a daycare provider, a lover of people, a believer that there is humor and beauty in all things, and the author of Mom Outnumbered; a blog about real family life, and my observations of it. My goal is to make people laugh, to be there for them when they cry, and most importantly, to let them know that they are not at all alone in this up and down world. I live with my family in Sebastopol California, and I am opening the window into our life. So welcome! Come in. Sit down. Just please don’t mind the mysterious wet spots.
