Don’t say anything.

January 22, 2012

“Don’t say anything!” she demanded in-between sobs.
“I can’t promise you that.” I said, the adrenaline flowing.

Before she was happy, but now she was shaking, hyperventilating.
The “popular girl” was upset at her. It was too much for her thin body.
“I’m dead, I’m dead, I’m dead.” she said over and over.

As I drove away from our house, I saw the car of girls pull up quickly behind me. They flashed their lights.
I pulled over, veins vibrating as my daughter caught her breath and exited the car.
She met the other girl in the middle and handed over the hat and the ticket.
The boy’s hat and ticket.
The boy who the popular girl likes.
(It’s a long story.)
My hand reached over and opened the car door.

The words, “Don’t say anything” humming in my memory,  were not strong enough to stop my hand from opening my door.

Stood up and addressed the girl, the popular one,  the one who spends time in my home and calls me mum. (She calls everyone mum- maybe that’s why she is popular)
“Insert name here, You. May. Not. Address. My. Daughter. In. That. Manner. ” I say to her (referring to the demanding texts she has been sending my daughter the last half hour. The ones which were sent every 30 seconds ending in NOW NOW NOW.)

Her eyes were big. Her body frozen.
I continued… calmly and clearly…
“And you have no right to dictate whom my daughter sees and when, especially after I stood by and watched your behavior with her boyfriend last winter. Really. You. Have. No. Right.”

OOPS. I said something.

I got back into the car.
So did my daughter.
I sped off like a hoodlum.
It wasn’t pretty.

There was little left of my daughter in that body next to me in the car.

She was pale.

“I am soo dead.” “I will need to change schools” “I have to move with Dad” “This can’t be happening”

But it did happen.

She called the girls in the car immediately, apologizing to them for my behavior.

She spent the night at a girlfriends house and called in the middle of the night, the anger she felt for me and the fear of disapproval of her peers were too much for her to sleep.

We talked for a long time.  I apologized for saying something. I tried to explain myself, but mostly I apologized and apologized. Luckily, by the end of the conversation we shared a few laughs.

This incident took a few days to process..

I had made some assumptions and over generalizations about the situation. It is a quality that I come by honestly. I tent to jump to the worst case scenario.

This girl received a lashing from some unresolved issues of my past.  I saw her as the stereotype of the “other woman”. The type who defines themselves  by how many men crave her. The secretary coming on to the married boss, the friend coming on to the husband. The type of I  judge and fear.

I was not just telling off that little girl in front of my car, I telling off everyone from my past.

That was kind of wrong.

(Ok, really wrong.)

I know I had to evaluate my relationship with “these women”.  I didn’t know how. So I thought about it for a while.

If they successfully pull a man away from a relationship,  they might spend the rest of their relationship worried that the man is lead easily astray. (because he is. )

That’s not the type of man I would want.

That’s not the type of life I would want.

That’s not a life I would want for anyone, even this girl.

So, now I’ve resolved something big in my life, at the expense of my daughter.

I think she’s forgiven me.

That girl has already  invited herself to spend the night….

I promise not to say anything. x

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3 Responses to “Don’t say anything.”

  1. Rosie Says:

    Blimey – Kim, I suspect you have given your self too hard a time here. But, great that you worked through something. And obviously the other girl doesn’t care what you said if she’s invited her self round already. It’s stuff like this that makes me please, yes plesed, that I didn’t have children!

  2. Sherri Lauer Says:

    We all want to say something, but as you just figured out, we CAN’T. All we CAN do is talk to our kids and let them make their own choices. Luckily for your daughter her friends probably just see you as another crazy mom. That’s all we will be until our kids are old enough to see how wise we truly are.

    • kimberlymoore Says:

      Yes, Sherri and fortunate for you, you inherited mom’s tongue, not dad’s. 🙂 I get the extra added bonus of making mistakes and then making them right…


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