p                                                                                             She was going into seventh grade.   Her first year at middle school. 

                                                                                                     "Mom, I'm scared.  I don't know anyone."

                                                                                                        "You know Ann (not her real name).  One friend, you'll be fine.  Just get through it". 


      "Just get through it".  

That was my advice to my middle child on her new adventure.    It was the advice given to me by my parents, I'll assume given to them from their wise parents.  But as a modern mother, I took this advice to the next logical level.   I,  In fact,  likened her new adventure to a video game her older siblings played.  My middle child had been exposed to a variety of video games a first born and new Mom would NEVER have allowed.  But she was middle so... In my motherly way, my wise I-know-exactly-what-to-say here moments, I knelt down to my middle child and said,

"Middle School is like  Left 4 Dead."  Yup, a brain-eating zombie game where you, the hero, rid the zombies before they eat your brain, save yourself and ... well, continue to fight the zombies the next day.  

"It's like Left 4 Dead, honey.  There are zombies that will try to eat your brain, don't let them.  RUN!  GET THROUGH IT!  oh and here's your peanut butter & jelly. Now off you go!" {kiss on the forehead].  

Yeah, that's what how I explained middle school to my very nervous, shy, 11 year old.  

"... and Mother of the Year Award goes to..." 

Was she terrified? Nah.  I had just given her the map. Duh.  pat myself on the back for creativity. 

Oooooor  slap myself for insensitivity.   Which I wouldn't wake up to for a few weeks after school had started. It was when I noticed  my little nervous girl turned into a very angry lion.   We would hide behind the couch, steering clear of the rage or wicked eye rolling, and ask "are you okay?"   ... sure, poke the Lion, that's great. And what I've learned about Lions is... poke them.  Yes, that's it.  Poke them and often. 

Dinner always felt like the poking was the perfect time.  Sister would poke sister,  so why not?  Ready?!  While witness to a sister/sister poke fest, I jumped in the pen with:

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"   (because my parenting skills are on point)

She had been poked enough. 

She stood up.  We went silent.  She whipped her mane back, slammed her paws.. er, hands on the table and roared.  


Still silent, I whispered in my head "No. Nope. No I don't.  Just want to finish my spaghetti and go to bed with the covers over my head thankyouverymuch."

"My one "friend" left me for the popular group.  SHE sits at the popular table at lunch and I EAT ALONE.  I walk the halls alone.  I am ALONE!  I HATE THAT PLACE!!!"  and she stormed off.   I sat with her sister, our mouths hitting the floor, no words.   I did, just so you know, try to hug her.  Which sounded like a good idea until I realized I was hugging a VERY ANGRY LION.  Have you ever... no, because you are smart.  Carry on... 

That night I went to bed feeling a bit of panic. When your heart breaks, it's so hard.  It feels hopeless and grey.  When your child heart breaks... it is a pain like no other pain.  It not only feels hopeless and grey, but you feel helpless.     This was a MOMent, a hard one.  I prayed.  I fell asleep.  

When I woke up, I was gifted an idea.  I went to the computer and starting typing an email to her principal.  Then again and for 5 days straight.  Obsessed with the download I was given.  I stalked (legally, yes, I checked) him until I finally made my way up to him, ya know, as he was directing the parent traffic.  Perfect timing, boom.  That following week, a yoga-based program for middle school girls was approved for all of Jeffco County.

I had been teaching yoga for over 10 years and this.. I didn't want to be alone.  I knew my daughter didn't want me yapping away every week in class so ... I invited the community.  Journalist, Artist, Fire Fighters, Hula Hoopers, they all said yes, to brining the village to our girls.  I reflected on what connected us, listening to their stories and they listened while I told mine.  We all felt we needed a place to belong and in middle school it starts to feel very far away.  Occasionally, throughout life, we've all felt it.  Alone.  Like we didn't belong.  Like a misfit. 

What I wanted was to fit.  I wanted to feel like I fit in my own skin.  I thought of all the things I wanted for my daughter.  I wanted her to accept who she was, to connect with her breath, her dreams, her thoughts.  I wanted her to feel celebrated and to celebrate herself.  I wanted her to feel she could encourage and lift herself as well as others.  I wanted her to feel and know she was strong.  I wanted her to ACCES all of who she is and all of who she can become.   I wanted her to be a Miss Fit Girl.   

Our first class, 11 girls walked in and stepped on the mat.  Eleven.  I knew in that moment this was something special, unique, loving and safe.  My daughter has never had to eat lunch alone since that day.   Accept, Connect, Celebrate, Encourage, Strengthen.  Together on and off the mat. 

When your childs heart breaks... it is a pain like no other pain.

 It not only feels hopeless and grey but you feel helpless. 

Miss Fit Girls® & MFG Yoga


How MFG came to be.