Model Moms

No, this post is not about Heidi Klum or Gisele Bundchen or even Kate Moss. I'm talking about a different kind of modeling. I'm talking about modeling the best behavior for our daughters. 


It is something we are advised to do from the time they are tiny — but oh-so-watchful — tykes. At that point, we were showing as well as telling our young ones to fasten seatbelts, look both ways at an intersection, eat vegetables. "Do as we say and as we do," we demonstrated. And, in all honesty, it was pretty cut and dry back then. "Cross at the green. Not in between." Get it? Got it. Good.


Now, there's a whole lot of grey area. And, as my daughter and her friends negotiate the treacherous waters of teenhood, I see moms modeling some very poor behavior. I'm not talking about drugs or alcohol (although there's plenty of that). I'm talking about how people treat each other.


The stakes are higher and too many mothers (in my tidy little town at least) seem to be pulled into situations that would be better left to the younger generation. Yes of course, I want my daughter to be popular. But, I'm not going to undo all of the insight, maturity and compassion I've picked up since I was fourteen myself. Alas, some moms seem to regress pretty quickly right back to their own junior high days.


For example, at my daughter's recent middle school graduation, I overheard a disturbing conversation. Two mothers sat above me in the bleachers. They were both slim and tan, nicely pressed and dressed. Here's what they said. (The names have been changed to protect ... well, whomever.)


Mom 1: "So are you all set for Katelyn's graduation party this weekend?"


Mom 2: "Almost. But, can you believe it? The other night, she gets a call from Molly." 


Mom 1: "No!"


Mom 2: "Yes! So, she says ..." (Here, her voice gets a little higher, as though she's imitating the unfortunate Molly.) "Oh, you didn't invite me to your party. Is it okay if I come?"


Mom 1: (laughing) "No!"


Mom 2: (laughing) "Yes! Can you believe it?"


Mom 1: "What nerve! I hope she said 'No.'"


Mom 2: "Well, duh!"


Moms 1 and 2: (laughing in unison)


At this point, I think they realized that I was listening, so they continued their discussion more softly. Also, one of them had to text her husband. And,the processional was starting. Probably a good thing, because I was finding it very difficult to keep my mouth shut.


Now, obviously I don't have the backstory. Katelyn may be a perfectly lovely young lady. Molly may be a terrible little bee-yotch. But, let me tell you ...


That's not the impression I got.


Talk about a teachable moment. If Molly was willing to swallow her pride and ask to be included, good for her. If my daughter was having a party and someone felt left out, I would use the situation to help her practice empathy. Not only would we include Molly, but we would make sure that she had a great time and was included ever after. 


Instead, here were two (allegedly grownup) queen bees who were very satisfied, delighted even, that their daughters were also queen bees. What I heard were two prideful mothers who were relishing their daughters' popularity and making fun of someone less fortunate. Their laughter was tinged with cruelty, and the underlying message was "How could that loser think she could come to the party?"


Y'know, for Molly's sake (and Katelyn's too), I hope I'm wrong. 


But, I was there. I really think I'm right.

Popular Mechanics

My best friend's son was a savvy young man. He once told her, "Mom, I'm not popular." Before she had a chance to object (as any good mother would), he added, "I don't want to be popular. It's too much pressure."

In middle school, it's all about being popular. And, unfortunately, there's no magic pill, no silver bullet, that you can rely on. Two girls can be equally pretty, equally bright, equally athletic. They can both wear the de rigueur uniform of the trendy tween: Ugg boots, North Face "Denali" jacket, Hollister skinny jeans, Abercrombie logo tee. On paper or in a class photo, these girls are identical. And yet, one will get a seat at the popular table and the other?

Not so much.

I wonder, at times, if there's some unspoken, invisible charisma that floats around the really popular kids. In some cases, it seems to be a sense of entitlement and arrogance that gets them what they want. I'm usually pretty amazed to meet the stars of the school. They never seem like "all that" to me.

Regardless, the kids (and it seems like girls are more aware of this pecking order than boys are) understand the social strata and know exactly where they belong. Any common sense a concerned mother tries to talk into her allegedly "un-popular" daughter falls on deaf ears.

"Why would you want to hang out with cheerleaders?" I ask, wrinkling my nose.

"You don't get it," is the answer. The answer, I should mention, is the answer per usual.

No, I don't get it. Are we in the movie Grease? Is this 1958? Why would smart, talented young women want to dress up like Barbie dolls and cheer for anyone other than themselves? Cheer for boys?!?! I do not get it.

"You've known so-and-so and whats-her-name since preschool," I continue. "Why don't you just go and sit with them next time?"

Her answer? You guessed it. "You don't get it."

"Honey," I take a last stab at this, "If whosit doesn't know enough to think you're cool and treat you nicely, why would you even want to hang out with her?"

And, yes, consistency is a wondrous thing ... "You don't get it."

The thing is, my daughter isn't sitting alone at lunch with a sad little tuna sandwich and a nerdy book. She has a table full of friends, boys and girls, who seem to have a grand time together every day. She has people to go to Starbucks with, girlfriends who sleep over, chums at the stable, buddies from camp. In fact, if her texting, IM'ing and Facebook messaging were used as a measure, my daughter's popularity would be off the charts.

And yet, she'll insist that she is "not popular." (And, right afterwards, she'll insist "You don't get it.")

It's hard sometimes to take her woes seriously. But, all I have to do is remember my own junior high melodramas and I can relate at least a little bit. I keep telling her that high school will be better. I hope I'm right.

One of our favorite songs from one of our favorite musicals is "Popular," performed by Kristin Chenoweth in the original cast of Stephen Schwartz's Wicked. When we saw the show together, about seven years ago, my daughter and I thought the song was hilarious. In fact, we bought a tee shirt that said "Popular" on it at intermission and she used to perform the entire number for us. Now, though, I think the lyrics are a lot smarter than I originally gave them credit for:

Popular!

You're gonna be popular!

I'll teach you the proper poise

When you talk to boys

Little ways to flirt and flounce (Ooh!)

I'll show you what shoes to wear

How to fix your hair

Everything that really counts

To be popular

I'll help you be popular!

You'll hang with the right cohorts

You'll be good at sports

Know the slang you've got to know

So let's start

'Cause you've got an awfully long way to go.

And, the "good witch" continues (she's making over the "wicked witch") ...

It's all about popular!

It's not about aptitude

It's the way you're viewed

So it's very shrewd to be

Very very popular

Like me!(Ahh!)

Stephen Schwartz may be a man in his 60s, but he must've spent some time in a middle school cafeteria. He has definitely tapped into the inner angst of an eighth grade girl.

And, I'm looking forward to laughing at those lyrics with my daughter again. Someday.