I read an article today on Mean Mom’s. Mean girls grow up. Needless to say, it struck a cord. It brought up a situation from years ago, that I rarely talk or think about. I refer to it as the “Daisy Intervention.” I know… huh? Well let me take you back…

It was 2001. I was a fresh, newly single mom. (By my choice.) I chose to leave my ex for numerous reasons that shall remain private. It was hard. Hurting another person is never easy. My girls were very young…Kindergarten and preschooler young. I was working full time, keeping a roof over their heads, putting food on the table, and struggling to keep them in their very expensive Catholic school. The work schedule and race to daycare pickup in time before they would require an organ per minute  for being late was struggle enough. Then one day it happened, my oldest daughter comes home from school elated that she wants to join the school “Daisy” troop! I sighed and smiled, long deep full body sigh after she left the room! But shared in her enthusiasm on the front. Cause that’s what a good parent would do. Needless to say, I agreed! Another girl in her class would be joining also, who’s mom I had become friendly with, not like besties, but enough for her to know my situation. 

Little did I know at the time, Daisy meetings were right after school for 3:45. Yes 3:45. What sadist comes up with these schedules? Did I mention I was a single struggling, full time working mom. Anywho, I explained the situation to the troop dictator, I mean leader in the beginning and explained I wouldn’t be able to make every meeting, but would do my best and would take extra snack, supply duty to make up for it, whatever I needed to do! She smugly agreed. (Insert red flag here.) The first few weeks went fine. But then my daughter would start making comments when I picked her up about my absence, and there were more and more unexplained tears at home. (I now suspect years later she was being bullied by dictators kid) My “friend” even pulled me aside and asked if there was anyway I could make a few more meetings. I told her I would try. So after lots of favors and juggling schedules, I made the next few meetings. My daughters face would light up. But keep in mind, all of the other moms were stay at home moms and were at every single meeting. My daughter being as young as she was, understood Mommy has to work, and will do her best to be at everything she can, but sometimes I couldn’t be. It was on the third meeting in a row that I juggled my ass off to be at, it happened…The Intervention.

I call it an intervention, because that’s what it was, but looking back, it was more like an ambush. As the girls busied themselves, 7 grown ass, including my “friend” women pulled me to the side, circled me, and proceeded to question my “commitment” and “engagement” my parenting skills, and questioned if this was the “right place” for my daughter. My 5 year old, popsicle project, glitter and glue covered daughter! Most of the talking was done by the dictator, one minion agreed with her, the “friend” couldn’t make eye contact, and the rest were split with the smug chin in the air, arms folded posture and the “I’m so sorry, I don’t agree with this” Look. Needless to say, I snapped! Not the “whatever” hair flip snap, it was the full on, brought out the Chalmette (where I’m from) mama bear, how dare you, you overbearing, no life, helicopter parent bitch snap! You would have to insert several bleep, bleep, you Bleep, bleeping, bleeps in my response to them. I walked into the other room, gathered my daughter and left. I was shaken up for a few days, a little because of the shock that it happened, a little because they included my daughter in the attack, but mostly because I had never been bullied! I mean this only happened in like middle and high school right? Nope, it doesn’t end, those mean girls and bullies in school turn into mean girls and bullies as adults. And what makes them worse, is they evolve with extra years of judgment hidden under their belts. It was a hard pill of a life lesson to swallow. 

But I have to say, that flipped a switch in me that day. It definitely made me a stronger parent, it made me impervious to people’s opinions of me, and it made me make it a point to always instill in my girls to take up for the little guy.  And to embrace independence full heartedly. I told my daughter about the “Daisy Intervention”  years later when she was old enough to appreciate it, we laughed and still laugh about it, because they know I was never PTA material. They could care less that I didn’t volunteer at school, or go have lunch with them a bunch, they are grateful for the other strengths I instilled in them. They are both in college and are smart, beautiful, wise beyond their years, independent, successful women. 

I wish I could remember Daisy dictator Mom’s name, my brain has filed it under useless information, so I have no clue. I bet her little angels are living on her sofa from all that coddling. I would love to send her my daughters college graduation announcement since she questioned my ability as a parent. But I won’t, instead I will hope she’s grown as a person and hope she’s had a nice life. 

As for my girls and I, we had a great life, it was hard at times, it was never without adventure. But I don’t think I would do any damn thing different. I wouldn’t change the bond it gave us for anything in the world…

But they never became Brownies. (Wink, wink!) 

Love and safe parenting.

M