Thanksgiving Friday hike in Franks Valley
This photo pretty much represents my view of the world when out and about with English hubby and Sweetpea. Being outdoors is joy and I am a fast hiker, but with a six year old whose normal operating speed is pedal to the medal and a hubby who likes to run, I've had to resign myself to the fact that I'm usually bringing up the rear. I don't mind. As anyone with children knows, you take moments of solitude when you can get them, even if it's just when you're trailing behind.
A few months ago while out on a neighbourhood walk, during which I happened to be under a dark cloud and skulking behind my two much more cheerful family members, I had one of those strange déjà vu experiences that threw me straight back to being ten years old.
I had lagged quite a way behind the two of them and finally started trying to catch up. I saw Sweetpea look back toward me, laugh and then she and her Daddy started running out of sight. It happened two or three more times, each as I got within 100 yards or so. I started feeling emotional as if they were doing it deliberately to hurt my feelings, even though my logical grown-up self knew this wasn't the case. It catapulted me back to fifth grade when the girls that I most wanted to impress would pretend to be my friend and then run away or laugh and point or do all those things that mean girls do to flex their juvenile power. It put me in a weird headspace.
Which makes me all the more grateful that I'm not ten years old. But which makes me feel the inner cringe for my daughter and my two nieces who are already in or approaching that stage in their childhoods where it could happen to them. All three are smart, self-confident girls but it takes just the once or twice that someone in their world stomps them down to shake their sense of self. It makes me want to surround them in bubble wrap.
I'm feeling the twinges of melancholy that sometimes hit me when the weather starts to turn or the Holidays approach or a shift occurs. But as so often has happened when I start writing stream of consciously, I've already turned the corner. At least for the moment. I made the choice that the video I shot on our hike the other day is a babbling brook rather than the sound of chill and damp winter looming.
And I am 42, not ten. And I know from long experience that tides turn and valleys turn to hills and mean girls aren't worth knowing. And I can help Sweetpea know it too.
That was nice. Thank you ;) I'm glad I'm not 10 anymore.
ReplyDeleteFunny how a blog post set in the forest can send you sliding back into a childhood school memory.
ReplyDeleteWhen I was 12, I remember wearing a dress my grandmother made me to school - I liked it, and thinking back to the tall, thin girl I was at the time, I probably looked okay. But on that particular day, the mean girls made fun of the outfit and at lunch I went home and changed. I'm not sure if I ever wore it again.
Here is to providing a safe haven for our children at home, and teaching respect and thoughtfulness...hopefully that helps them climbs out of the valleys more quickly.
I am glad I am not 13 anymore. I think about how to guide my kids through their teens a lot. I hope it is not like living the teens again.
ReplyDeleteI am the "skulker" in our little family too, sometimes joy and relaxation is an effortful decision. My kids are infatuated my their papi (as they should be) but sometimes I get the little twinge of rejection too.
As long as you know you are well loved here!
Lianne, that story kills me. Do you have a picture of that dress? I'm sure you looked resplendent.
ReplyDeleteI would kill for that view. Mine is always looking back at the whiny kid demanding to be carried, or sitting on the trail refusing to take another step. I was not blessed with a good hiker. Oh and mean girls (and boys). Can't bear to think of my daughter going through that. My worst moment was probably when the boy I loved made fun of my "unibrow." Awful.
ReplyDeleteNot sure if there was a picture..it was red, long-sleeved and close fitting. It had a long line of navy blew flowers stiched to the front from collar to hem. I'm sure it did not fit the fashion styles of the day!
ReplyDeleteNice typo, Lianne. Blue, not blew.
ReplyDeleteMy thin skin can't take it.
ReplyDeleteI would like some emotional bubble wrap.....
Thanks for sharing.
Ugh. To be 12 years old again with my first pair of glasses: I handed them off to a friend who wanted to "try them on", and she proceeded to parade around in them mimicking my mannerisms in the.worst.possible.way.
ReplyDeleteLove this post, thanks for sharing it!
Oh, those mean girls. They got us all one way or another. Wonder what they are doing now?
ReplyDeleteI worry all the time about when my little ones will face this pain - or worst yet if they will ever inflict it.