Harsh Realities

Janet has been struggling with the impact of relational aggression or, as it is known in layman's terms, mean girls.  I was really hoping that maybe things had changed since I was five, or that perhaps it wouldn't happen quite so early, but that was not to be.  Meanness amongst girls is alive and well and thriving in kindergarten classes all across this great nation.

It's not that she is friendless or picked on by others, and she claims that she feels comfortable amongst her classmates and at school generally.  She's a pretty happy kid.  Yet, like most of us, her joy can be turned into anguish with a single glaring look, a turned back or, most hurtful of all, exclusion from a birthday party.

One day a couple of months ago, Janet became agitated before bed.  I asked her what was wrong and she told me that one of her classmates, to whom I will refer as Birthday Girl, was having a party.  Janet hadn't been invited.  I felt bad, but calmly set about explaining that not everyone gets invited to every party, because there is only so much room and there is only so much cake, and so on.   

"But she told me I was invited," Janet lamented.  "We're friends".  

Not wanting to get her hopes up, but thinking that perhaps there had been a mistake, I suggested that maybe Birthday Girl had forgotten to give Janet her invitation.  After all, it was only mid-week and the party would likely be on a Saturday.  

Janet didn't buy it.  "She handed out all the invitations today.  I asked her where mine was, and she said I couldn't come."  She broke into tears, and then fell asleep.  

The next day, Janet seemed fine and bounced into school, seemingly oblivious to the whole incident.  I went to pick her up that afternoon, and was met with a dejected little girl.  She burst into tears when we got into the van, and told me, breathlessly, about all the talk of the upcoming birthday party.  She had taken the chance to ask again if she was invited, if there had been some mixup in the invitations that Birthday Girl had handed out.  Unfortunately, she was assured, rather pointedly, the way she told it, that there was no mistake.  She just wasn't on the list.  And, once again, I tried to explain that sometimes life just sucks, and that even though Birthday Girl was perhaps not the most gracious creature to walk the Earth, there was probably a valid reason (like space, pizza or cake limitations) that she and a handful of others were not invited.

The party came and went.  I was relieved to see the date pass, so that Janet could just move forward, having learned, hopefully, not to take it personally.  The Birthday Girl had other plans, however.  Weeks after the party, Birthday Girl continues to raise it and to point out to Janet that she wasn't invited and she wasn't there.  Janet told me she asked Birthday Girl not to talk about it, because it hurt her feelings, but Birthday Girl persisted, until Janet just walked away with, as she puts it, "hot cheeks".  It was with dread that I noted Janet began to question herself, and to wonder if perhaps she alone was to blame for the exclusion.

Each time Janet sadly told me of another comment or jab related to the party, I thought about all of the ways I could handle this.  I could tell her, again, that it was probably a space issue.  I could encourage her not to take it personally, and I could try and tell her that perhaps Birthday Girl was trying to compensate for some kind of inner inadequacy.  I could assure Janet that it wasn't anything she herself had done, and hope that she would actually believe that instead of wondering if she had done something to deserve it.  I guess I could say as well that Birthday Girl was not being very nice.  Of course, I could just change the subject until the hurt feelings passed.  These are the things that a good mommy would do.  

But, I'm a Failed Mommy, and I don't have time to fart around trying to explain relational aggression to a six-year-old.  There was one clear and succinct explanation that I could offer Janet.

"Janet", I said.  "Birthday Girl is a BITCH".

She brightened when I said that.  She watches enough Family Guy and other semi-inappropriate television to know what it means.  I told her not to repeat it at school, and she agreed.  Happily, though, whenever Birthday Girl does something mean to Janet or someone else now, Janet tells me what happened, but then notes that Birthday Girl can't help it. Birthday Girl  is,  after all, a bitch.