Mean girls are simply bullies with lip gloss

No mother likes to see her child in pain – either physically or emotionally. I always thought the physical blows to my daughters were the most painful to endure – for me, that is. I’ll never forget when my youngest daughter broke her pinkie finger trying to field a ball during 5^th grade recess. She was fascinated that her little finger was pointing in the other direction. I was queasy.

          The E.R. doctor injected her finger with something that was supposed to numb the pain. The shot alone was knee-buckling to watch. But then the doctor placed a pencil under my sweet girl’s finger and in one swift motion, snapped her bone back into place.

It was stereophonic horror: My daughter screamed in agony and I wailed hysterically. It PAINED me to see her in so much distress. The receptionist told us that our gruesome screams scared a family in the waiting room so much, that they packed up and left in a big hurry.

            Medical torture aside, in all my years as a mother, nothing has been more painful than watching the fallout from my 16-year-old daughter being bullied by a mean girl at school. Not physical bullying, like boys tend to do. But rather, the emotional kind -- subtle, subversive, calculating slashes into her self-esteem, invisible to everyone – even me.

            My daughter has had a core group of friends for three years. She is (was) especially close to one girl, who lives right across from us and works at the same retail store as my daughter. They live together, work together, play together. It is (was) a tight bond. After Christmas break, things changed dramatically. This so-called “close” friend stopped talking to my daughter and began hanging out with a girl who drinks and smokes pot.

This bad influence has been spreading unkind rumors about my daughter and telling everyone that she hates her. And instead of standing up for my daughter, her so-called “friend” has teamed up with the bully.

My daughter is dumbfounded!  She has never done anything mean to these girls, nor said anything about them that would merit such an attack against her. One day they are friends; the next day she is a pariah.

            Sounds like petty teenager stuff, I know. But emotional bullying is the kind of behavior that drives some teenagers with weaker backbones than my daughter to commit suicide. It is a real problem in high schools, and I am certain in many cases, goes unnoticed and unreported because the wounds are invisible.

According to statistics from Family First Aid, about 30 percent of teenagers in the U.S. have been involved in bullying, either as a bully or as a victim of teenage bullying. This organization claims that teenage girls often favor verbal or emotional bullying, which “aims at getting someone else to feel isolated and alone … and is designed to get others to ostracize the person being bullied.”

That’s EXACTLY what is happening to my daughter.

The American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry warns that emotional bullying can lead to depression, drug use, a drop in grades, an increase in anxiety, a loss of social life and yes, even suicide. In fact, a 2011 study showed that bullying “has emerged as a contributing factor to the sharp rise in the American Indian and Alaskan Native youth suicide rate.”

I’ve seen a marked change in my daughter. She is moody, defiant and non-communicative. I can barely get her to say hello to me. If a parent isn’t paying attention, you could easily pass it off as “typical teenage behavior.” But you need to look closer, and dig deeper. Create a non-threatening environment in which to talk to her. If you’re lucky, your teen will open up to you, like mine did.

If you discover that your teenager is being bullied, adolescent psychiatrists recommend that you take the following actions:

• Assure your teen that he or she is not to blame.
• Don't encourage bullying victims to fight back physically; instead suggest that they walk away to avoid the bully, pair up with a buddy, or that they seek help from an adult.
• Help your teen practice how to react the next time he or she is bullied.

As for my daughter, she showed tremendous courage by confronting the bully and her so-called “friend” head-on last week. She demanded to know why they were gossiping about her. Of course, as cowards usually do, the bully denied everything.

I, too, was a victim of bullying – twice in my life. When I was in 3^rd grade, two older girls at school stole my lunch money nearly every day while I waited in line at the cafeteria. And many years later, I was also bullied by a co-worker, a female broadcaster at a radio station who yelled at me every chance she could, berating me in front of the entire newsroom. She was 54 years old and should have known better -- a mean girl all grown up.

This April 30^th marks the 10th anniversary of the movie “Mean Girls,” starring Lindsay Lohan. I’m sure there will be much fanfare leading up to this “celebration.” But let’s not forget that there are countless girls and boys in this country for whom bullying is a daily torment -- not something that ends happily after two hours in a dark theater and a tasty tub of popcorn.

WHAT Global Warming??

I know for sure that the scientists really did fudge all that data in the global warming study, because when my daughters and I woke up this morning, we got a wonderful surprise. Overnight it had snowed! I know this is no big deal to many of you who live in snow country, but you have to understand that it NEVER snows in this part of Northern California.

Well, not NEVER. But RARELY. In fact, the last time it ever snowed here was back in 1976, when I was in high school. And the time before that was way back in 1888. So, yeah, snow on the ground here is a total fluke.

We were so excited! We made hot chocolate and pulled back the curtains looking out into our backyard so that we could look at the white grass while sucking on our morning cereal. Pretty thrilling for a few transplants from Southern California!

Last week, I dragged my boxed Christmas tree to the backyard to fumigate it. I found a Black Widow spider in it and was worried that she had laid eggs inside some of the branches. This was one blessed birth that I didn't want to celebrate on Christmas morning, especially right there in my living room, so upon the advice of my exterminator, I threw a flea bomb in the box and let it air out for a few days. Then a few more days passed, and then a couple more because I was too lazy to bring the tree in and decorate it. Last night, it snowed on top of the box, so now I have a fake tree with real snow on it, which is usually the opposite of what most people get -- a real tree flocked with that fake, clumpy, sticky white stuff.

This white stuff, my friends, is the REAL thing!

She's Got Mail!

When my teenager walks into her room tonight, she's going to see a stack of unopened envelopes on her bed that have been piling up for the last week while she's been down in Southern California visiting her dad for Thanksgiving break. She is being courted by a number of our country's finest colleges and universities with the fervency of a horny suitor. First they send the letters, then they follow those up with a flood of e-mails. Gosh, she sure is popular. Imagine if they really knew her -- I'd have a damn riot on my hands!

I'm excited for my daughter and this college shopping spree she gets to go on. I've been telling her all along that the world is her oyster, she can be all that she can be and to shoot for the stars. (You'd be surprised at how many cliches actually apply toward raising teenagers.) While her grades aren't impressive enough to get her into Harvard, Stanford or Yale (which she has no interest in, anyway), they are good enough to get her into a decent liberal arts college or university.

I will continue to encourage her to get good grades and to set her sights high, but secretly, I'm panicking. I'm not sure I can afford to send her off to the college of her dreams! The ex and I started her life with good intentions and had some sort of college fund set up that was tied in with our life insurance or something and such, but I was a new mom and wasn't really paying attention. How could I be thinking of college for my baby daughter when I was just happy to get through to the next feeding? Add a new sister into the mix, a divorce, a complete restructuring of the family nest, my nip-and-tuck years as a single mom and suddenly we've come screeching up to this junction in our lives: my baby daughter is now a junior in high school, poised to go off to college in two years, and I have no idea how I'm going to afford it.

Of course the ex-husband and I will split the cost, so that helps. But still, it makes me wonder how many parents really save for their children's college educations. It's something you hear you're supposed to do the minute they cut the umbilical cord, so say all the best financial advisors. But I think many of us parents think there's plenty of time, don't we? "Why not start saving for college tomorrow? Or maybe a few years from now? There's no rush. Besides, we need that money NOW!"

Well, folks, I'm running out of time. How about you? I don't have the heart to tell my teenager that she may not be able to go to the college of her choice. Too risky this close to finals, with SATS right around the corner. Besides, I'm still optimistic. I believe it will all work out for her, somehow. Life always seems to go that way.

I have to remember that I went to the college of my dreams on sheer determination and resourcefulness alone. My parents didn't help with my out-of-state tuition, but I somehow pulled it together through grants, loans, various scholarships, work-study programs and two years as a resident assistant, which covered my room and board.

I have faith in my daughter that in the 11th hour, she, too, will be able to piece it all together and not let ANYTHING deter her from pursuing her chosen education. That attitude seemed to work well for her mom.

But just in case, I'll be buying a lottery ticket tomorrow.

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Our First Big Storm!

Ever since we moved up to Northern California, my daughters and I have been looking forward to the first rainstorm. When you live in the land of perpetual sun, as we did in The OC, a little bad weather is like a holiday.

The first few months that we were here, it was VERY hot. Like 100-degrees-plus hot, with no rain in sight. But the locals kept telling us how awesome it would be when the seasons change.

Today, the weather definitely changed . . . for the worst. The good news is, we experienced our first rainstorm. The bad news is, it was a MONSTER of a storm. Heavy rains, the slanty kind, and hurricane-force winds, about 55 mph. I tried to get out of the car to retrieve my mail, but the wind blew me back in. No lie.

To give you an idea of how strong the winds were, look what they did to this tree:





My 12-year-old loved every minute of it. The first thing she did when she got home was put on her PJs (at 3:00 in the afternoon!) and make herself some hot chocolate. (That's my girl!)

That's about the same time that I realized my teenager was supposed to be at cross-country practice. Nah, she wouldn't have practice today, I thought. There's no way any coach in his right mind would let kids run in this weather. Sure, he had sent an e-mail early this morning to let parents know that if it was raining, they would still run. But this wasn't rain. This was practically a typhoon! Nah, she wouldn't be running today.

So I hopped in my car, braving the winds and rain, to go get her at the high school. She didn't have her phone. A punishment for a small infraction last night. I figured she'd just be waiting for me, since she couldn't call me, hopefully taking shelter somewhere. A few other cross-country parents were there to get their kids early, too, certain, like me, that practice had been cancelled.

But guess what? That damn coach made those kids run four miles in the pounding rain and hurricane-force winds! One of my daughters' friends, who was recovering from the flu (possibly of the Swine variety), was running in shorts and a tank top. Her mom was having a cow right there on the curb.

My teen ran by me in a soaked sweatshirt, her hoodie pulled way over her head. I gave her the most sympathetic look of concern I could muster. What agony, what torture she must be enduring! And then she smiled at me. Really smiled.

It was her first big rainstorm, and as she would tell me later, running in the rain is her new favorite thing.

What a WOMAN!

The older my teenager gets, the more convinced I am that she is not my daughter. Case in point: She runs cross-country. I run errands, and on some occasions, my mouth. I am in no way interested in running or jogging, nor have I ever been. I am an athlete, don't get me wrong. Or at least I used to be. But I always engaged in a fun sport. Softball, football, tennis, bowling. That kind of thing. Running along the road in the hot sun, feet pounding on the unforgiving concrete, wishing instead that I was inside my air-conditioned house sitting on the couch watching "Oprah," is not my idea of a good time.

But it's how my teenager likes to spend her free time. She's on her high school's cross-country team and it's paid off nicely for her, too. She is in the best shape of her life, physically. And after a grueling meet this week, I can proudly say that she is in fine mental condition, too.

It was 102 degrees that day, and surely, I thought, they would cancel the meet. I mean, it's just cruel to make young kids run 3.5 miles in blistering temps like that . . . isn't it?? Shouldn't we be taking them out for ice cream, instead? I'm a whimp, it turns out, because the meet started right on time, as scheduled, and no other parents except me seemed fazed by it.

After the first mile, my teenager looked in good form. By mile No. 2, I was getting worried. Her face was very red and she was dripping in sweat. And I have to say, that if this is what she called recreation, it did not look like she was having much fun at all. On her last lap, she limped by me with tears in her eyes. My mothering instincts wanted to rescue her, to pull her out of the race and go get a double-scoop of Rocky Road. But then, those same instincts told me that something important was happening here.

Character was being built.

My tough little bunny fought off her genetic impulse to stop running and she finished the race. Afterward, she cried her eyes out and confided in me that she thought about quitting a zillion times during the race, that she even hatched an elaborate scheme as she was running to fall down and fake an injury, that's how miserable she was. And she was even seeing black spots at one point. But she pushed on.

She berated herself for finishing in the back of the pack, but I kept telling her, "Honey, what's important is that you finished! You didn't give up!"

Not only do I love my teenager to the moon and back. But after witnessing the strength of her character that day and her determination not to fail, I have the utmost respect and admiration for her.

Happy, happy trails to her.

A New Life Up North

Oh, God, it's been a long time since I blogged! I'm not even sure I remember how. I feel like a virgin on her wedding night, all nervous and unsure. When you stop blogging, it becomes easier and easier not to dedicate yourself to it every day. Life takes over. Priorities become more clear. THINGS GET DONE! I didn't realize how much time I was wasting sitting on my ass in front of the computer until I stopped blogging.

But I had to kick the habit for a while because my daughters and I moved up north to a smaller town and a simpler life. After living in The O.C. for 23 years, I had had enough of Paradise and the pursuit of perfection, and decided what really mattered was being around my family. It's funny. I left this area so many years ago to get away from my family, and they are the reason I have returned -- with a family of my own to add to the mix!

I felt guilty at first, dragging my daughters away from a place where they were born and raised, away from friends they have known for practically all their lives. But that little voice inside me, the one that is always right, kept assuring me that something much better awaited them up here. And darnit if that know-it-all voice wasn't right again! We were immediately embraced by a very large circle of sisters and brothers and cousins and aunts and uncles and dogs and cats and babies yet unborn. They didn't care that we had been gone so long. They were just glad we had found our way home. We are now A-Listers at all the family BBQs and get-togethers. We are like the new toy at Christmas that everyone wants to play with. My children and I are where we belong, surrounded by love and lasting connection. And the sense of peace is indescribable.

They do things differently up here. For one, my daughters already started school, while SoCal kids are still enjoying a lazy summer at the beach. I was worried about their first day of school. Would they meet new friends right away? Or would they be sitting alone at lunch, which is always the kiss of death for any new kid. I was especially concerned about my teenager, who is a junior now. Starting over midway through high school is a real challenge, but she was up for it. She told me before we moved that she was ready for a change, too.

Five minutes after I dropped her off at school that first day, I get a text message from her that said, "I feel like I'm going to throw up!" (Oh, no, now I really felt guilty!) She met a few people that day, but she still felt like an outsider. We had a long talk that night, about birds of a feather flocking together or something and such. I told her to be patient, that she would eventually find her flock.

As it turned out, her flock found her. She has been at this new high school for only three days, and today in homeroom, the entire class "interviewed" her. They asked her all sorts of questions about herself and where she came from. The question that was on everyone's mind was, "You lived in Orange County and moved HERE? Why??" (That's the question I get from everyone, too.) So when she walked into the lunch area, about 4-5 people from her homeroom were shouting at her to come sit with them. One guy yelled, "Hey, there's the OC girl!" She was at the center of a bidding war.

On the way home she said, "I really love my new school!"

Boxes are unpacked, kids are settled into school, new friendships are being forged. Operation Relocation is complete.

And we're going to be just fine.

Who Lies More? Parents or Teens?

I have three teens living in my house right now so I think this makes me imminently qualified to share the results of an unscientific study I've been conducting for several years.

The burning question for me through these tumultuous teenage times is why this is the season of parenting when parents start lying.

Mostly to each other.

During the infant and toddler years, we helped each other. We swapped babysitting and recipes. We gave each other tips on the best pediatrician and how much pudding you can legally feed a 3-year-old. We exchanged funny stories about what our darling children said. We celebrated not just birthdays, but milestones, too -- when Johnny slept through the night in his big boy bed, when Susie was potty-trained and what special toy we bribed them with.

Then something changed.

Johnny and Susie weren't so cute anymore. The milestones became scary.

Middle school peer pressure. Study habits changed. Johnny got a D in math. Susie wore too much makeup and was "in love" with a boy you didn't like.

High school brought more milestones. The dreaded driver's license that meant freedom for them and more responsibility -- rather, liability -- for you. And more peer pressure. The dreaded 4 D's…dating, driving, drinking, and drugs.

The playgroups stopped. Healthy snack choices became the least of our worries. And we started retreating and lying to each other.

"Johnny is doing great."

"Susie is so busy at school!"

Lying by omission is still lying -- or that's what I've been trying to teach my kids for all these years.

Sure, there is a privacy issue. Keeping things private in your family and respecting your kids' privacy are important considerations … especially if it puts you, your teen or your family at risk.

But when we lie to each other, we're lying to ourselves.

When we internalize our fears about parenting this next generation and don't share what's going wrong and how to deal with it, we're doing each other a grave disservice.

You know the family who all appear perfect in public. I'm always a little relieved when I find out Ward and June's kids were caught __________ (you fill in the blank).

Well, at least it makes me feel a little better.

It's not a reflection of parenting. It really does take a village.

I absolutely believe we help each other so much by telling each other the truth rather than when we pretend everything is perfect. I'm not perfect. My kids aren't perfect. This parenting gig is the hardest job on the planet and I need all the help I can get.

Let's stop judging each other and start helping each other during this season of parenting teenagers.

Am I the only one who needs to hear the truth?


A BIG thank you goes out to Sherra Humphreys, our guest blogger. Sherra is the mom of four, a speaker and a writer in her "spare" time when she's not keeping track of where the three teenagers are, who is in what car, driver and passenger names, location, departure and arrival time and other annoying details she asks her children daily. You can read more about her trials and joys of being a stupid mother, tried-and-tested teen dating tips and how proud she is of her twin daughters' recent decision at SherraLifeLesson.com.You can also find her at iLashGirls.com

a stupid mother
http://sherralifelesson.com/stupid-mothers-teenagers-country-music
Teen dating tips
http://sherralifelesson.com/little-lesson-7-teenager-dating-tips/
twin daughters recent decision
http://sherralifelesson.com/new-soldier-etiquette/
SherraLifeLessom.com
http://sherralifelesson.com/
iLashGirls.com
http://ilashgirls.com/

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Promises, Promises

Moms make lots of promises. We promise to save for our child’s college education while they’re young, and never miss a school play. We even make promises that are impossible to keep, like the time I promised my daughter she could kiss Joe Jonas on the cheek. But a promise I made recently feels real.

I promised to be present to my two oldest children for the next four years. They started high school last week. High School! I’m still having a problem even saying the word. It was OK to be a parent of teens when they were in middle school, but now they’re in high school. A place where kids are driving cars, having sex (even if their parents refuse to believe it) and planning for college.

In just four short years, my first two children will be gone. It’s a scary reality, particularly when I think about how fast the last 12 years passed. Four years is nothing. It’s a presidential term, the time between Olympic ceremonies. Jeez, by the time the Olympic torch is lit in London, my children won’t be on the couch watching the opening ceremonies with me. They might not even be in the same state if my son and daughter get into their first-choice colleges. So I want to spend the next four years relishing in every bit of physical and emotional growing they’ll experience. I want to understand their challenges as they study for exams, support them when they’re heartbroken, fell their fear when they drive for the first time, (I can definitely do this one!) and share in their happiness when they get a fat envelope from a college. (Fat envelopes signify a student has been accepted to a college.)

Sooner, rather than later, my children will leave home and take the journey that I’ve worked so hard to prepare them for. Then it will be their turn to deliver on the most important promise I made many years ago and prove to me that they have grown into healthy, happy and confident adults.

By Maria Bailey