I always loved summer when I was a kid. Summer vacation gave me the freedom to be rid of responsibility for two and a half glorious months.
I grew up in the late ’80s and early ’90s in Colma, California—otherwise known as the “City of the Dead.” The town is a densely populated necropolis, so there was hardly any fear of being kidnapped by its eternally rested inhabitants. The “live” population was relatively small, with the primary residential area taking up only six streets. It was a very safe neighborhood for kids to gallivant by their lonesome. During the summer, it wasn’t unusual for us kids to be home alone or playing outside all day long. Times were different back then, and I firmly believe it was a lot safer to be a kid in those days.
I like to think my family was lower-middle class instead of being higher-low class. I was raised in a single-parent household, so cable was a luxury we couldn’t afford. Television didn’t take over my life. Instead, my sister and I would meet up with our friends and ride bikes all day throughout the neighborhood. I wasn’t a girly-girl. I would perch precariously on fences surrounding vacant lots to pick sweet, wild blackberries. My best friend and I would roll them in cocoa powder and munch on them before they were even washed. Summer was absolutely wonderful.
The Dreaded School Year
Anxiety welled up inside of me as the beginning of the school year drew closer. I knew my carefree summer would soon turn into a fretful fall. You see, I was a very awkward child during the school year. Despite being somewhat of a tomboy, I still had tons of girlfriends, so I wasn’t exactly a loner.
However, I was transformed into an introvert on school grounds because I was teased mercilessly by some older boys. I was a skinny little thing, and I had eczema, so some of the boys would run away from me and tell me I had AIDS. Oh, boys are cruel at that age! I had no idea what AIDS was at the time, but I knew it meant I wouldn’t be having any cross-gender friendships for a while. Instead, I turned to books for a sense of solace and male camaraderie. Authors like R.L. Stine and Roald Dahl became my male friends. And they never made fun of me.
I had such a negative experience in elementary school that I often worry about what will happen to Niki when she starts school. To this day, I harbor fear of rejection because my self-esteem was so deeply wounded by the “mean boys.” I’ve tried my best to avoid being a helicopter parent, but I still want to be mentally prepared to protect Niki from the emotional wounds life can inflict. It is in every mother’s genetic makeup to protect her young, and I know firsthand it really sucks to see your kid with an “emotional owie.”
When my eldest son, Kevin, had his first experience with bullies, I had to fight every temptation to give those boys a piece of my mind. How dare they mess with my baby! Thankfully, I was able to coach Kevin and give him advice using my personal experience. John and I gave Kevin the traditional “just ignore them and play with people who are cool like you” advice. We even reminded him it was OK to stick up himself. Kevin responded very well to our pep talk and eventually became friends with his bully.
But what on earth am I supposed to tell my daughter if kids ostracize her because of her factor VII deficiency?
I wish I had a bleeding disorder so I could tell her, “I’ve been there, and you’ll survive.” Alas, I have no idea what it feels like to grow up with a bleeding disorder. Even though I know Niki’s “special blood” doesn’t define who she is, I know she still has unique challenges she’ll face because of her condition. Kids can be cruel if you’re different. And although I hope she won’t ever have to face any teasing related to her bleeding disorder, only time will tell. Either way, I’m confident she’ll heal from her “emotional owies” and become an extraordinary woman. The most amazing women I’ve ever met have been women with bleeding disorders.
Read more about Tiffany's life at The Art of Lion Taming.