A few years ago, I crossed the 40th birthday threshold with a red velvet cupcake and hardly a worry that I had crossed the threshold into middle age.
And unlike some moms gathered in a weepy circle on the first morning of kindergarten, I dropped off my bright-faced, skipping child with a kiss and a smile and hardly a backwards glance as I walked back through the playground to my car.
It wasn’t kindergarten that threw this mom for a loop. It was the notice from Shuswap Middle School.
An innocuous, two-page letter filled with a friendly welcome message and instructions for buying P.E. T-shirts and shorts had me blubbering like I’d watched a Hallmark Movie of the Week.
I choke up even as I write this because, suddenly, that school note made it real. I’m over the halfway mark to my oldest daughter becoming an adult.
I’ve crested the top of the parental roller coaster and now it’s full speed ahead until she’s kissing me goodbye to head off somewhere – university, travel, employment.
Forget the mid-life crisis.
I’m having a full-blown, middle-school crisis.
I’m not ready for a tween, much less a teen.
I can still recall so many of my own memories from those junior high years – and some of them are still cringe-worthy more than 30 years later.
The time the French teacher caught me passing notes in class – which included declarations of love for the raven-haired, although pimply-faced, boy who sat two rows over and entertained the class by translating it into French and reading it aloud.
There was the longing not to be the tallest girl in the room, the teasing about the horrible poodle perm, the fights with my mom about her refusal to let me wear a one-shoulder exposed Flashdance sweatshirt in order to fit in with the cool girls.
There are the highs of getting your independence, of testing limits and exploring who you want to become. But I also remember the intensity of the feelings, the friendships, the dramas and the pressure to fit in.
The mama bear in me wants nothing more than to insulate my child from the inevitable hurts, from those bad fashion choices and the slights of the other tweens. I want her to remember she’s amazing just the way she is and to resist the idea that she has to change to fit in.
I want to believe that when push comes to shove, she will make all the right choices through her tweens and teens, but I know that isn’t going to be the case.
So I’m afraid.
I think the kind people at the middle school know a lot of parents like me. I see they are offering a morning open house for parents of kids who will be attending SMS in September. There’s a tour and a time for parents to have their questions answered.
I just hope they have a therapist on hand. And maybe a box of Kleenex.
