I remember those days. And not because they were wonderful. Mostly, I remember them as being awkward and difficult.
Getting braces. Wearing a bra for the first time and hoping no one would notice or try to flick my bra strap. Fighting with my parents about wearing make up. Figuring out how to actually "do" my hair. And the worst of all- fearing every day that I would start my period for the first time and it would leak through to my pants.
On the positive side, I remember that suddenly boys were not so disgusting. In fact, one or two of them were even cute- we discussed this in detail within small groups of girls, huddled in hallways and outside of the school. Boy's names were doodled in notebooks, and written on hands with pen or magic marker.
Middle school also allowed me to find more friendships, and solidify old ones even more. No longer was I stuck in one class all day with the same group- I got to move around every hour and see all sorts of people. well, except for George. George was a constant throughout my entire school career. We literally had the same teacher from third grade (when I moved here) to the end of elementary, and always had at least one or two classes together throughout junior and high school. It was a bit of a joke between the two of us, and to make things even funnier, we wound up working at the same movie theater for years, and even went to the same college...
Last night we went to the high school football game. The 11-year old took a friend with him, and it was amazing how non-existent my husband and I became the closer we got to the ticket stand. Until they needed money of course...
We gave them a time to check in with us, then allowed them to wander off towards the area where kids their age were hanging out. As my husband and I walked behind the bleachers towards our usual sitting area, we smiled knowingly at each other as we watched teenagers huddle in packs and the occasional couple make out. Some had their Halloween costumes on, while others had painted their school colors all over their faces, bodies, and clothes. "Did we look and act this silly and stupid?", he asked me.
"We grew up in the 80's honey. So I'm sure we looked even more silly and stupid...".
We sat in the bleachers where I could still have a visual on the 11-year old, without him feeling like I was "watching". By the third quarter, we were unfortunately getting beat pretty bad, so we decided to go ahead and leave early. My husband and I waded through the crowd of teenagers to get to our boys, and I swear you could cut the hormones with a knife! It was probably a full 10 degrees warmer over there!
On the walk home, the two boys now walked behind us, and I could catch snippets of their conversation- mostly about who kissed who. The 11-year old declared that he now had a girlfriend, puffing his chest out and walking with a little strut and head bob. God help me.
Tonight's pic represents the pre-teen years, when parents are no longer cool to be seen with, and "going out" starts to mean more than just going out in the yard to throw a football. Good luck to us all- may we all come out on the other end without our children hating us or having a venereal disease...
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