A funny thing happened this weekend.
The competition cheer squad (which, for the record, does NOT include Roo's mean girl) had practice all weekend and finished up with a surprise team builder: a whiffle ball game, cheerleaders against the parents.
Now, first of all, that's hilarious from the get-go because I am NOT the athlete. My kid did NOT get her abilities from me, that's for sure.
So -- heh heh heh -- I called the role of "official photographer" for the team. The other parents went for that as far as fielding was concerned, but when it came to taking a turn at the plate, there was no escaping it.
"Come on, Janet, DO IT!" they all called to me.
And I immediately shot back in time to elementary school -- and being picked last for any and EVERY team.
Yes, I had my own versions of mean girls, 1950s and '60s style.
In fact, when my incredibly gorgeous daughter started on the high school cheer team, I had a visceral response that I chronicled here, which I called the Sally Smith effect -- the ability for a certain type of girl/woman to make me feel instantly inferior.
My first at-bat was less than stellar, but the second? I swung, made contact, raced to first base (SAFE!!!!) and even scored on a series of parent hits that followed.
But here's the funny thing. You see, we have a little high school reunion coming up this fall. It's a big, scary number. I graduated from high school in 1970, so you can do the math.
Facebook has been an amazing tool to make this reunion happen. I have friended and been friended by people who I haven't heard from or thought about in -- ahem -- a lot of years. People who I was actually friends with, and people who were, well, um, not on my hit parade.
I guess the years fuzz out the memories some, huh?
So because I am a big girl now, I posted my photo of a-swing-and-a-miss on my Facebook account, followed by the declaration that I also got a hit and scored a run ... "so take THAT, elementary school mean girls who always picked me last for the team!"
I was unprepared for the comments that followed -- from friends who I know were in the same boat as I was ... and from schoolmates who clearly weren't.
In fact, here is the comment that rocked me on my foundation:
"I was there... I remember those awful feelings and how mean some of the girls were... I hope you didn't think I was a mean girl. That's so long ago, see you at the reunion?"
Um. Yes, my dear, you WERE a mean girl. Don't you remember?
This reunion is going to be VERY interesting ...
Crossposted at Mid-Century Modern Moms