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I Read A Lot of Internets

maybe it was utah

Arbol de familia

So, it’s been a few days, eh? I had to hunker down and freak out and get over it and move on and take whatever steps that I could. We’ll be okay. I don’t know when and I don’t know exactly how, but we’ll be okay.

The latest thing that had me freaking out was my kid’s performance in school. Perhaps my already keyed-up self was having some perspective trouble, because now that I think about it, a few crummy test scores and shitty attitude toward homework isn’t really all that alarming. But we were REALLY worried/pissed that he kept screwing up basic addition problems and was not able to memorize a list of six Spanish words for the life of him.

I began to think that, on top of everything else that this year had thrown at us, problems with our kid and his learning were really uncalled for.

So I braced myself when we went in for a parent-teacher conference today, only to hear things like, “Outstanding…advanced…gifted.” (I feel the need to stress that I am so NOT a status whore when it comes to things like gifted programs for kids. If the baby can do some extra stuff that interests him, I am happy. I do not think that he is now pre-disposed for “success” and/or better than any other kid.)

Of COURSE he doesn’t always want to do homework or put any serious effort into it. Of COURSE he’s cranky about getting up early. Of COURSE he would rather play than work on arithmetic. He’s a kid. He’s a good kid. And our only mistake as parents was not giving him enough credit.

I know what it is. I know why he doesn’t want to work on homework (besides the fact that homework universally sucks) and why he seems all gibberish and wiggles when we’re home. This morning as we were getting ready, he wanted me to play trains with him and when I said no, we needed to be leaving soon, he asked his dad if he wanted to look at his Egypt book with him. Why does he ask to do these things at 8 a.m? Is he doing that on purpose so that he can say that, technically, his parents never did anything fun with him, even though he timed his requests with the morning rush? Because the morning rush to him is just the start of another long day. Another day where the only time that we see him is when we’re tired from work and worrying about our future. We’re his favorite people and we’re no longer any fun to be around so he tries to push those days away.

I can’t not work and I don’t feel guilty about working (at least not all the time). I enjoy having a career. And the kid still needs to go to school and do homework. These aren’t negotiable. But I guess I need to remind myself to stop waiting for life to get easier because all signs point to “not gonna happen.”

We watched Raising Arizona the other night, just because I had a craving for it and I think my subconscious was trying to tell me something. I always forget about how lovely the end of that movie is and I really needed to hear this:

All parents are strong and wise and capable and all children are happy and beloved.

2 comments to maybe it was utah

  • I don’t know if this will horrify or help, but I still can’t do math and I have a graduate degree. I was a classic “underachiever” who “did not apply” myself. My highschool guidance counselor initiallly refused to send out my transcripts to the list of colleges I provided her. She told me “you would be better off at a two year business school.” My mother had to call her and say “Lady, if you don’t mail my daughter’s transcripts to the college of her choosing, you would be better off in a court of law.” Eventually I figured out how to achieve and apply myself.

    I also was over the moon the day my son crawled out of our laundry room and I was able to say, “Son, you got a panty on your head.”

  • I just realized that I never commented on your last post like I meant to. I am a jackass.

    Although my only exposure to your kid is what I read from your blog, my impression of him is that he’s a caring and bright and funny little guy. And damn, I’d rather look at my Egypt book than get ready for work in the morning. But unfortunately, sometimes life is one vile fucking task after another, to quote one of my favorite shows (Deadwood).

    And I love the end of that movie. It never used to make me cry, but hoo boy, now it sure does.

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