Lucy Reflects

Can life possibly get any more awkward than the middle school years? I’m reliving those times vicariously through my son, who started sixth grade this year.

Many of those memories like social anxiety, embarrassment and indescribable emotions came rushing back. Sixth grade for me was carrying a Trapper Keeper, clarinet, book bag and gym clothes all while trying to keep my Fashion Bug jeans pegged. I wanted so bad for my bangs to stand as high as the other girls, but they practically ruined my social life by being stupidly straight and downright disappointing, no matter the amount of Aqua Net I used. Don’t even get me started on the “Circle YES/NO” notes, because I can’t even.

A lot of firsts happen in sixth grade – first dance, first crush, first breakups. And kids often try to navigate those feelings by themselves because it’s just too devastating to bring it up to your parents. Not with me though, because I was going to be the super-cool, go-to parent for all things middle school.

I tried to approach the teen years with Max this way and make sure he knew he could talk to me about anything. It doesn’t work that way though. You’re not cool, no matter what you tell yourself.

He recently approached me about attending his first dance and here’s how it went:

“Hey mom, can I hang out with my friends tonight?”

“Sure, whose house are you going to?”

“We’re meeting at the school I guess. There’s a bunch of people hanging out there, at a … dance I guess,” his voice trails off and he walks away, hoping I didn’t notice this rite of passage that I was most likely going to make a HUGE deal of no matter what advice my husband gave me.

“Right. Cool. Whatevs,” I say as I try to conceal my excitement and maybe some tears.

EEEEK! It’s Max’s first dance! I need to pick out an outfit for him and teach him the running man. “Alexa, play Boyz II Men’s Motownphilly.”

MY GOD! I need to teach him to slow dance! “Alexa, play Bryan Adams’ I Do It For You.”

Then I reel in my excitement a little and remind myself, I’m not as cool as I may think. But I’m determined to casually teach him dance etiquette.

“Hey Max, can you come here?” I decide I’m going take a risk and bring up dancing with girls. “Mom, I’m not going to dance with any girls.”

“But what if a girl walks up to you and asks you to dance?”

“I’m going to say no,” he answers in a matter-of-fact voice.

“OK. YOU CAN’T DO THAT,” I tell him sternly, as I relive the devastation of being turned down and not recovering through the rest of my middle school career.

“Let me teach you how to slow dance. Alexa, play Whitney Houston’s I Will Always Love You. Beatrix, go get your Barbie and Ken.” After a dramatic dance scene with dolls, I realize I’m sitting on the floor by myself and both children are nowhere to be found.

So, I didn’t nail it when it came to Max’s first dance. I’m trying to find the balance, where he wants to talk to me, but I don’t push it. It’s time for me to back off a little and let him figure things out. It’s just the beginning for us and years of experiences, good and bad. But by the time prom comes, you better believe that boy will dance with his mom. And let me take a million pictures.

We’d like to hear from you. Do you have a child in middle school? How’s is going so far?