Graduation. Whew. So glad that I am no longer required to make my best faces at public school events. Pressure is off! I no longer have to pretend that I care about the pretentious Moms and their darling little offspring. I can merely observe from my “Bitch Cave” while sipping on delicious adult drinks in my comfy clothes. It’s a much better view.
I will never forget those times that I was subjected to the Mean Girl Squad’s many accomplishments at an award’s banquet. After about the third or fourth slide of this particular kid performing the same cheer stunt, and maybe one or two of my child in group shots only, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I let out a really loud exhale, followed by an equally loud exclamation of “REALLY?” Mean Girl Mama Bear whipped her head around and glared at me. Believe me, I knew she was there – the back of her head was my intended target. I’m pretty sure my eyes rolled (as they so often do), but I was quickly jerked back to the real world by my husband. Party pooper. I would have continued but his attitude was really putting a damper on my display and besides, I still had to live with him.
That type of behavior was not isolated. Earlier that same school year, after it was apparent that they weren’t going to be rid of me and would have to at least tolerate me because my daughter had made the 7th grade cheerleader squad, I had to endure countless parent/sponsor meetings. Their two sponsors were a couple of young teachers, one of whom I had lived across the street from when she was a mere toddler, and I mistakenly thought that would be a help in this case. The other was new to the district and so after appealing to the one I knew with no luck, I tried to befriend the other. Wouldn’t you know, those bitchy Mean Girl Moms had already greased the wheels in their favor? It was one miserable thing after another the entire year. What was awful was watching my daughter, who really did enjoy cheering and wanted to participate, gradually be pushed further and further back in the ranks until she was merely a warm body. She was never allowed to participate in the stunts as anything more than the asinine position of “Back Spotter”. That is the spotter to the spotter. Stupid. She had taken dance and gymnastics for 10 years by this time, and could perform really well. Bitches…
Anyway, the other disappointing thing was the Captain was a girl who attended the same church as us. You would think that would have also been a favorable scenario, right? WRONG. Did not matter one iota if she was nice to her or not on Sunday, by Monday she never acknowledged my daughter’s existence. To make matters worse, she had a bad habit of “forgetting” to text my daughter to let her know important changes that had been decided, such as which uniform they were to wear to school that day for the pep rally that afternoon. She showed up with the wrong uniform on and of course they were so nice and helpful…WTF? Hell no they weren’t! They made fun of her!! When I complained to the sponsor I got *crickets*. I even used my best grammar and was NICE, merely stating facts. My daughter called me at work, trying so hard not to cry, and when I rushed the correct uniform over for her to change, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. I let her cry in that bathroom because I knew how she felt and I knew she needed to get that out of her system. I personally wanted to beat that little bitch’s ass…along with her momma AND the two sponsors. I look back at pictures I took of her cheering and there is such a heartbreaking divide between she and the other girls. Such as shame and especially that the adults didn’t discourage this behavior, but participated in it as well.
Against my better judgement, I let her try out the next year. Everyone else made it but her. On the one hand I was relieved, on another I was so sad for her, but on the other I was PISSED. Oh well, at least she had the experience to look back on, and can say she did it.
She’s had such a good experience in college, and I’m thankful for that. I hate that her high school years had so many Mean Girls moments. Funny how a lot of them were “like mother, like daughter”. #nogoodhometraining #littlebitches #meangirls