Last Tuesday was a special day for my daughter, so I decided I would surprise her with her favorite lunch at school. I went to Moes and got her a burrito, chips and queso, soda and all kind of yummy, unhealthy treats. I walked in and headed to the cafeteria. I am still not down with the middle school protocol. I would have lunch with both kids once a semester at the elementary school, but I haven't been to have lunch at the middle school. It's not a thing that you do when your kids get to that age.
On a side note, I never remembered parents coming to school to have lunch with their kids when I was in school. NEVER. Is it a new thing? A southern thing?
Anyway, I played out a few scenarios of how this would go in my head. She would be embarrassed and shun me, she would be shy about it and give me a wave and take the food, or she would be excited to see me. The third scenario didn't seem likely so I tried not to get my hopes up.
I stood in the corner and waited for a few minutes. I came at the end of 8th grade lunch. Whoa. Those are huge kids. I was a little afraid. I stared at the floor and felt awkward and out of place. Basically, how I felt the whole time I actually was in 8th grade. haha. Then they got up and left and it was 5th grade lunch time. I was trying to be incognito. I saw my daughter walk in and her teacher leaned in and pointed out to her that I was there. She looked up at me with big eyes and shouted, "Mom" and then she ran over and hugged me. In front of groups of her peers. A lingering hug. I was very excited about it. Being a mom - I'm winning at it.
I asked if she wanted me to stay and she said, "Yes!" I was happy. I asked her teacher if we could sit at a special table and she was like, "Come sit with me and my friends." This was going to be an adventure. She led me to her table and I sat at the end. We unpacked our Moes and the kids started to fill in. It was interesting because all the girls sat on one side of the table and all the boys sat on the opposite side. I leaned into my daughter and whispered, "Do they make you do that?" She shook her head. "No." That's weird. I observed some more. The boy in front of me ate his food in silence, while leaning his head on his hand. He looked really sad. I leaned in again, "Does that kid ever smile? Is he sad or something?" She shrugged, " He is always that way." Well, okay. Then this other kid was talking about Spanish class. "But what I really want is to learn German." He motioned to the kid next to him, "Because this guy reminds me of Adolf Hilter." The kid looked up. A tiny, little blue eyed child. I leaned into my daughter again, "Why did he say that kid reminds him of Hilter?" "Because he wants to take over the world." "How do you know that?" She whispered back, "Because he always talks about how he wants to take over the world." Fair enough. I was very entertained. Get these kids a TV show. I began to pack up the trash and the security officer came up to me and told me he thought I was a 5th grader for a minute. Yes, it's my anti-aging cream. I'm going for 11. I thought 11 might be a good look for me. Maybe it was my One Direction T-shirt. I laughed and then hugged my daughter and went on my merry way.
Alas, she was back to her normal self this week. It has been cold as hell this week. Yesterday there was frost on the ground. I heated up the car before we headed to school. I pulled out our coats and scarves. It was 40 degrees. That's like sub zero temps down here in the deep south. The girls bundled up and off we went. I dropped my youngest off first. She walked in looking so cute with her little pea coat, scarf and hat. As we drove to the middle school, my oldest daughter began to remove her scarf and coat. "What are you doing? You have to get out of the car in a few minutes and will have to put all that back on." "No, I don't." "Ummm....yes you do. It's freezing outside." She shrugged. "It's not that cold. I have a sweater." She didn't have a sweater. She had a cotton zip up hoodie. Not her fleece Columbia jacket or wool sweater. A wanna-be tee shirt that just happens to have sleeves. We had an argument about it. Then I said, "I bet all the other kids will be wearing coats." I pulled up behind the line of cars and watched the kids get out of the cars. I was going to show her. I saw not one coat. Not one. I did see a kid in shorts and another in flip flops. I saw a few sweatshirts. Not a scarf, not a hat. I was like:
I there some tween/teen conspiracy about coats and dressing weather appropriately? Do they just like to be cold? Do their raging hormones act like a personal internal heater? I didn't understand. I was confused. My daughter gave me a look that said, "I win." I watched her walk up to the school shivering. It made me crazy.
My mother is reading this with a smug look on her face right now, because I remember this fight. I never wanted to wear my coat. I used to walk home from school, in New Jersey. In snow. I was 80 pounds, in a short skirt and heels with a 50 pound book bag on my back, not wearing a coat. Shaking like a chihuahua that just got out of a bath. I'd be like, I'm not cold. Wearing coats - Uncool since 1994. I wish I could go back in time and talk to myself. I'd say. "Listen up! First of all, put on some pants before you show your hoo-ha to the neighborhood. Have some self-respect for God's sake. Secondly, maybe the heels aren't a good idea. You are walking home in ice. Trust me, it's not going to be sexy when you are 19 in a podiatrists office getting cortizone shots in between your toes because you caused nerve damage in your feet. Also, what's with the book bag? Stop killing yourself with the homework. You aren't going to go to Harvard. C's get degrees. Eat a hamburger once in a while, you are too thin. Oh, and wear a coat, because believe it or not, you are going to have a daughter one day who will refuse to wear a coat and scarf and watching her shiver in the cold will kill your soul. Wear a coat so your adult-mom self won't feel like a hypocrite." That's what I would say. I don't think my tween self would listen to my adult self though. She would go home and weep while listening to a Tori Amos cassette and write angst-y poems about how grown ups don't "understand." They say you get it back 3 times. I'm in for it and this is just the beginning.
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