You Talkin' To Me?

last week my 6 year old got off the bus in a very sad, somber mood and i asked her what was wrong. her response: nobody wants to sit next to her on the bus. i try to explain that most of the kids are older and have been riding the bus for a long time and have made their friends. i promise that next year will be different. i try to explain that it's not that big of a deal and to not let it get to her. i can't help but feel a twinge of sadness that my daughter has to feel alone, upset, or insecure.

a few days later, on my first day back at the gym (after oh 3 months), i took dina to the gym childcare center while i worked out. she made fast friends with another girl there, but once again she wasn't her usually chipper, talkative self when i picked her up. on the car ride home, she said a boy at the gym told her that he hated her. oh god! seriously?! i told her that usually that means that they like you but are confused about their emotions. i explained, how could he possibly hate you, if he doesn't even know you? don't even sweat it, D. i immediately call her dad for some fatherly advice and over the speaker phone he tells D, that if he ever bothers her again, she should use some of her tae kwon do moves on him. (not exactly the kind of reassurance i was looking for - but it did make D smile, so i let it slide. )

these incidents have brought back a memory from my own childhood. i lived at my aunt's house for a while in elementary school and i would dread the bus stop every morning. there was a boy, a year older, but 2 feet taller, who made my life a living hell. he called me every name in the book and threatened physical harm on me on a daily basis. i never said a word, which i think made him angrier and fueled his desire to get a reaction out of me. one day, i had just had it. i wanted to put this bully in his place and stop the agonizing misery i felt. so i turned on the water works (this was the day i realized that i could one day win an oscar) and walked through the door of my aunt's house. my favorite cousin, who had started his first year of college was sitting at the breakfast table and rushed over to me. are you ok? are you hurt? what is going on? i explained the daily torture i was going through. and he assured me that he would take care of it.

the next morning, he walked me to the bus stop and asked, is this the kid who keeps bothering you? i looked down at my feet and nodded my head. the next minute plays out like a scene out of the godfather or scarface. my hero of a cousin, in essence, told that boy if he ever talks to me or even looks at me again, he will either kill him or beat the shit out of him. i can't remember which. such colorful words were used that morning, that were not yet part of my vocabulary. the kids eyes starting tearing up, he went pale and from that day on, never spoke to me again...until years later. i wonder - maybe this blue-eyed monster had a crush on me? maybe he was intrigued by the shy, ridiculously cute - unibrowed persian girl - who kept to herself and never uttered a word to him...(side note: he ended up dating one of my best friends in high school and i never let him forget what an asshole he was to me. thankfully, my friend came to her senses and dumped him.)

i'm thankful that i had my cousin serve as my pseudo-bodyguard that day. but looking back, i kinda wish i had the balls to stand up for myself. i should have bombarded him with a wave of persian insults - *khak-to-saret chaghaloo, boro gom sho kesafat, bemeer pedar-sag, khar-jendeh...what's the worse that would have happened? he would have hit me? that's when i would have brought my cousin over to break his legs. oh well...

i wish i could protect my little girls from all the name-calling, teasing, hurtful incidents that are sure to come their way. (at least they don't have a name like "taraneh," which would have made life 10X harder for them.) but i do want them to be strong and able to handle these predicaments on their own. how do you raise confident, secure girls when there are so many biatches and bullies in the world? who knows, maybe one answer is martial arts. i just had a scary thought. peer. pressure. gulp. i can already foresee the wrinkles, grey hair, and sleepless nights. 10pm curfew makes perfect sense now.

translation:

*dirt on your head fatso, get lost dirtbag, die - your father is a dog, your sister is a slut. when telling someone off in farsi, it is very common to insult one's relatives. check out D's killer moves in tae kwon do. she done make mama proud.