Rejection-once-removed

I can remember as a kid having a conflict with a friend or group of friends from time to time.  It wasn't very often and it was never anything too serious.  I think I always assumed my mom never had a clue as to what was going on.  She’d ask from time to time if I had seen or talked to so-and-so lately and I’d give her a vague response, hoping she wouldn't press for more dirt, not wanting her to know I was feeling sad or rejected by kids I was friends with, or thought I was.  And when the friends started popping up in my tales of school again, or I'd start asking to have them over to our house or go to theirs, she never made a big deal of it.  As the mama of an almost four-year-old that attends pre-school two days a week, I am learning this acquired art form of dealing with rejection-once-removed  and, trust me, it is not nearly easy as she made it look.

Back before our preschool days, Kennedy’s friends consisted of my friends children.  We knew almost everything about them, and their parents, and generally how they are being raised.  They were the kids she spent time with, but it was always with us.

Kennedy is a talker.  She started talking late but once she started, she's never stopped.  She’ll talk to anyone; during hockey practice, in the grocery store, in the dentist’s chair, Target, anywhere. So, when she started school and came home the very first day talking all about the kids and her new friends, we laughed and imagined her bossing everyone around in her helpful little way.  When I’d call on my way home from work so see how school was each Tuesday and Thursday, she’d always talk about the same little girl, how they played together, and ate snack together and played on the seahorse outside (don’t ask me what that is-I have zero clue). “She’s my best friend,” Kennedy would tell anyone that asked.  I loved that; that she, so early, could distinguish a closeness with one person over others.

And then, one afternoon about two weeks ago, she told me she felt sad.  I asked why and she said, “I wasn’t allowed to play with so-and-so because she has a new friend and they told me I couldn't play with them.”  It crushed me, breaking my already fragile heart a little more.  How could they say that to her, to my little girl, who at almost-four is clearly as loyal as they come to her people? Who the f#&! did these little brats think they were?! I was livid, but my mama instincts kicked in and I didn’t tip my hand to Kennedy.  Instead, I calmly said, “I’m sorry baby, why don't you ask them if you can play with them on Thursday?”  She told me it was ok because a little boy in the class asked her to play with him and the new girl and they had fun.  But when I got home Thursday and asked how things went, she told me her friend wouldn't let her talk to her, that she kept running away. 

I was beside myself, thinking that I couldn't believe this kind of shit happens this young-I mean they are practically still babies for goodness-sake.  I asked Sean what we should do, should I call the school?  He, as he always does, calmed me down and told me we couldn't be sure that Kennedy was interpreting what was happening the right way.  It went on like this for another week and I tried to keep reinforcing that it was so nice that she was playing with new friends and that she could tell her teacher if she was feeling sad in school and they would help her.  But would they?  Could I be sure of that?

This past Tuesday, I’d convinced myself that, if she came home from school that day and said it was still going on, I would call and ask what was going on.  It was Pajama Day and she wore her new jammies and armed herself with a big smile.  I worried all day at work how she did, knowing full well (being that I work in a middle school as a counselor) this is how so many kids go through their days at school.  I wondered how their parents feel when I call to let them know that their child is struggling socially.  I dreaded even asking how the day went as I came in the door; I couldn’t bear to see her look anything but happy.  I didn't have to ask though because she came flying at me, yelling, “Mommy they played with me today! We’re friends again!”

You know what I thought: Well the hell with both of them! You don't need a friend that is such a follower; that would treat her friend badly just because someone else tells her to! But instead, swallowing my rejection-once-removed, I said, “Oh lovey, that's such good news! How was pajama day?”

That's the thing about being a parent, you have this crazed urge to slap the face of anyone that wrongs your baby, but you don't.  You model for your kids how to absorb a little disappointment and teach them how to ask for help.  You don't push too hard, and you don't solve every problem for them.  And after all, it could be awkward when the kid whose face you slapped just a week before shows up to play at your house with their best friend!