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The Misadventures of Mrs. B: This One Time, In The School Yard...

Cook. Writer. Wife. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Klutz.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

This One Time, In The School Yard...

I've never participated in Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop before, but as soon as I saw prompt #5, A Fist Fight, a special memory popped up and I knew I had to share a warm, fuzzy story...

When I was 8 years old, my family moved from a tiny 2-bedroom house to a slightly larger 3-bedroom house in the same neighborhood.  I can see why my parents decided to make the move - not only was the first house the size of a postage stamp, but it existed on a street full of certifiably insane neighbors.  That's a story for another time.

The biggest perk of moving? Living directly across the street from school.  Talk about being the envy of the rest of the kids!  If you played your cards right you could be out of bed and in the school yard in 10 minutes or less.  Plus, our church was right there as well, which was a total bonus on sleepy Sunday mornings.

The second biggest perk to moving was that I was finally living around other kids.  I was thrilled to pieces to find out that just two doors down would be a family with a little girl exactly my age, who I'd known since 1st grade.  And I wasn't even half as thrilled as she was...I guess that should have been my first clue that there was something amiss.  She had all these kids living so close by but was still in need of a friend.  Turns out it was because she was insane.

Okay.  In hindsight she wasn't any more insane than the average little girl.  But she was a "type", and I know you've all experienced her.  The needy, overly-fussy, everything-has-to-be-my-way, I-hate-you-today-but-will-be-your-best-friend-tomorrow-but-only-until-someone-better-comes-along-and-then-I'll-pretend-I-have-to-go-home-but-will-really-hang-out-with-that-other-person type.

And she was my best friend.  Lucky me.  Maybe I was the insane one.

Naturally, because my best friend was batsh*t crazy, I experienced my share of drama in the years that followed our move.  And I got into my fair share of girlfights.  But nothing as dramatic as the time we fist-fought in the school yard before the bell rang.

I don't remember what started us off, but the situation devolved into the two of us standing nose-to-nose, shouting insults at each other.  And of course, the insults revolved around our families because, hey, that's the easiest spot to pick at if you really wanna hurt someone.

Me: At least MY Dad doesn't make me go in and fix drinks for him when he's outside with the neighbors! (referring to the fact that she had preparing her father's mixed drinks for him for years)
Her: At least I have a Dad I can look UP to! (referring to my father's 5'2" stature)
Me: At least MY parents don't send me outside to knock for my friends in bad weather because THEY DON'T LIKE ME AND WANT ME OUT OF THE HOUSE! (I think this one is pretty much self-explanatory)

That was it.  The tipping point.  Her eyes widened for a split second - I had hit my mark.  And then she hit me.  This devolved into a hair-pulling, blind-punching match, with the other girls cheering us on from the circle which had formed around us.  After no more than 15 seconds or so (though it seemed like an eternity), we were pulled apart by two older girls and - gulp! - sent to the Principal's office.

This was new territory for me.  I was a Good Girl.  I had never so much as been reprimanded and here I was, being sent to the Principal's office.  Where I got a demerit.  And...an invitation to detention.

WHOA.  This rocked my world.  It was unthinkable.  So unthinkable, in fact, that I ran back across the street to tell my mom that I (I!) had gotten detention for fighting.  This was world-ending for me.  I was in a panic. 

But Mom was not as ruffled as I.  I guess she wasn't all that surprised, since this was just one of so many fights I'd gotten into with this girl.  So she told me to calm down, that I wasn't in any trouble with her, and to go back across the street before I was late for school.

So I did.  And we both sat in detention later that week.  Where we passed notes and made up, after our mothers had forced us to stand face-to-face and apologize for everything we said.

Oh, did I mention that things I said were only things I had heard my parents discuss in the past? And that my Mom had to stand there and listen to me repeat them in front of HER mother? And probably cringe?

Sorry, Mom.

Mama's Losin' It

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5 Comments:

Blogger Rocky Mountain Woman said...

What a great story. I had a similar experience and remembering feeling the same way. I'm the good girl! I don't get into fights!

Merry Christmas,

RMW

December 16, 2010 at 2:02 PM

 
Blogger JustMom420zaks said...

EEK.
I think the worst part was the moms finding out what you said.
What kind of dad drinks mixed drinks anyways?

December 16, 2010 at 3:56 PM

 
Blogger paulakiger said...

I hope this isn't your last Mama Kat's - I really enjoyed it! What a story. Thank you, too, for stopping by my blog - I really appreciate your visit and comment.

December 16, 2010 at 10:06 PM

 
Blogger FiddlersBride said...

Loved this story. I also wrote about the fist fight prompt and our stories have a few things in common - including that trip to the principal's office and being the 'good girl'. I hope you'll come by and give it a read!
Stopping by from Mama Kat's. This is my second time participating in the workshop. Hope to do more! As a new blogger I'm enjoying these writing exercises!

December 16, 2010 at 11:52 PM

 
Blogger jackie said...

I never got into a fight growing up. I was the good girl and too scared actually. Great story! I have to say though, it must've been embarrassing for your mom to hear what was said.

Thanks for stopping by. Have a wonderful week!

December 20, 2010 at 10:32 PM

 

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