Life Lessons

Yesterday, Sofia came home from preschool and told me that one of her best little girl pals said she was no longer her friend and uninvited her to her house.

And, though she was perfectly serene when she told me this tidbit, my heart stopped pumping. Then it shattered into tiny lifeless pieces of mush.

I can remember that feeling, all too well. Kids - girls especially - have such rabid mean streaks. A few sick days from school often meant coming back to a friendless recess or two. Wearing something, doing something, saying something out of the ordinary was a huge risk: it could either shoot you straight up to Leader of the Pack or could condemn you to four highschool years of ridicule.

I've been on all sides of it. The bully and the bullied. I've also been the Defender and the Wet Noodle/Coward who conveniently opted to - suddenly - mind my own business. I've been befriended, regaled with "BFF" stickers, and I've been coldly unfriended (was that a word before facebook?). I've been both backstabber and backstabbed, I've had a broken heart and given one.

All of this? Has made me a better person, I can say in all seriousness. Time, Age and, yes, Motherhood, have all made me acutely aware of the douche I've been in the past, and have allowed me to forgive my past aggressors without so much as a second thought.

But now. This, though, is too much. My baby girl, alone out there in the wild. Deciding on her own whether to turn the other cheek or growl back. Having to figure out for herself that it will all, in the end, be ok.

I didn't think about this when I decided to become a Mom. I thought/think about alcohol or drug abuse, about when she'll start driving, about the first time she'll get home after curfew and scare the living daylights out of us. But not this. I have to admit I, very naively, never thought of her battling her way through school and that big B word: Bullying.

Will she be strong enough to handle it? There are plenty of stories going around about girls who can't. Whose shame and embarassment and pain are too much for them to bear, who take their lives because they can't see the forest through the trees. Will my Sofia - sensitive, observant, curious soul that she is - have enough chutzpah to shove her way through it til she gets to the other side? Will she be able to figure out who her Real friends are and stick to them like glue? Will she find Real friends who will stand up for her and talk her down from that precarious ledge?

Will she recognize her worth?

Now, though, she is only 3 years old and, thank goodness, I still make the rules and set the tone around here. So, for the moment, my answer was "We'll call her mom and meet up with them for ice cream one of these days, ok? I know she will be happy to see you."

And, as I said it, I wished with all my being that that would always be enough. Unfortunately, though, I know it won't.