Seven-Year-Old Issues

Sometimes this job of mothering is difficult.

That is all I can remember of the beautiful, well-written, deeply thought out blog entry that was lost because of a pop-up blocker when I tried to perform a spell check. I shall try again, but I know it won't be half as beautiful. Oh, the pain.

Anyway, I'll go on now.

As soccer practice ended and we all walked toward our cars, my daughter comes behind me crying and saying that she wants to quit soccer. I don't understand this because she loves soccer. She is always ready for practice early, even lets me put a pony tail in her hair for the games, and really gives the games her best.

When pressed for further information she tells me that no one on the team likes her except for one girl, that another girl, whom I've nicknamed Chicklet, says things about BD1, saying that she's a bad soccer player, and the other girls say she's the worst player on their team. Chicklet, BD1 says, whispers things about her to the other girls, and the other girls believe her and taunt BD1 with the information. BD1 has complained about this girl to me before. Chicklet has called her a cry-baby, and a few other names. Chicklet's mother evidently called all the girls "stupid" when they out-voted Chicklet for the team name (she wanted "Hot Chicks" and they voted for "Striking Vikings").

I don't get this kind of behavior. I didn't get it when I was 7 years old, either. Of course, it brings back my own unresolved issues from school, church, work and family. I try, though, to not let those interfere with my reasoning with BD1 about her issues. Why do parents allow, encourage even, this behavior in children? Why do some parents not grow up themselves, and continue to behave this way themselves?

The little girl rarely looks happy. I have no idea why.

What would a normal parent tell her child in a situation like this? My own demons scream too loudly at me to say things about Chicklet to BD1, and be just as nasty as her mother evidently is, and scream at me that BD1 is treated this way because I am socially inept, physically unacceptable by society's standards, not the richest, most influential person in the community (or one of the top 20), whatever inadequacy can be filled in for my screaming demons. I try so hard to not project my issues upon my daughter, but then maybe she has just inherited this backward social gene from me. I don't know.

I never played on teams in school, more my parents' doing than the schools,' and really wanted BD1 to learn about cooperation, teamwork, all that, through soccer. Therefore, I feel that I don't have the tools to help my daughter through this successfully.

What would you, any one of my 7 readers do?

I know I have catching up to write, the Reno Trip, the other issues, and some political commentary of my own, but not tonight. Perhaps next time.

Thanks for "listening"