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One morning a few weeks ago, I walked into my daughter’s grade two classroom at lunch to bring her the pair of rain boots she had accidentally forgotten at home. When I peered in the doorway, I could see her sitting at her desk, her long, straight brown hair falling across her face, opening her lunch box. I walked quietly and gave her my million-dollar smile and leaned over to give her a kiss when the boy beside her says, “Awkward.”
But it’s not just the word, it’s the way he said it that made me want to slap him across the face. I would never do that, of course, and I tend to love all children but the word awkward and its new pervasive use in our culture is driving me mad. I hear it all the time when my kids watch those horrible shows like Suite Life on Deck and Shake it Up! There’s a whine associated with the word in its popular usage, an emphasis on the first syllable that grates at the ear.
What was really infuriating - beyond the interruption of a beautiful moment – was that it wasn’t awkward. I was a mom visiting her 7-year-old daughter at lunch. Seven-year-olds kiss their moms. They’re still small and cute. It would be awkward if I walked the same way into my son’s Grade 5 classroom. That would have been more than awkward. It would have been mortifying. But this innocent trip? Nothing awkward about it.
And yet, the result of his inane comment was that my daughter was embarrassed to see me. She kissed me shyly, not enthusiastically. She looked around at her friends and I could see that she was gauging their reaction. I think they all saw the daggers in my eyes and didn’t say anything. I hope they understood how rude it was and how inappropriate.
My daughter is at that age when our culture starts to push hard for independence. She’s at that poignant crossroads, preparing for the time when I let her go to the park alone or to the store. But not yet. She’s not ready to push me away. Not because she’s 7, but because of who she is. She can clean her room, get herself a snack, play on her own in her room, but she still likes it when I’m there to pick her up from school at the end of the day. And she likes it when I surprise her in the middle of the day with a surprise visit. Not anymore. One word ruined has ruined that possibility forever.
My seven-year-old is not a teenager. She doesn’t need to feel embarrassed when her mom pops into her classroom. She should feel honored that I took time out of my busy day to make sure she had her boots, to give her a midday kiss. She doesn’t need the word awkward in her life. And neither do I.
Cori Howard is the founder of The Momoir Project, www.themomoirproject.com, a series of writing classes for moms around the world.
