Gimme an epiphany

When I was in my twenties and single, I had a lot of epiphanies. Mostly they had to do with how not to be single any more.

I liked life on my own. Somewhat. I loved living in an apartment that was all mine–-no one to make a mess but me or my cat. No guilt if I wasn't doing something productive like cleaning. Not a soul breathing in my space.

But, without a doubt, I wanted to meet Mr. Amazing. He didn't seem to exist in Lansing, Michigan, where I lived for a good chunk of my young life. Seattle was better, but still full of guys who were full of themselves.

Then I met J. and in pretty quick order we had two kids.

I don't have epiphanies any more...the lovely dawning of existential understanding that comes over a person. For one thing, I don't sit around thinking about life as much as I used to. I mean, I guess I do. But it's more about balance and identity and parenting and less about how do I live as a single person while being okay with it or how do I meet that special someone who will complete me???

No longer do I spend Saturday mornings sprawled across my bed talking to other single girlfriends on the phone about who we met the night before, who we hope to meet, the world and our place in it.

***

Claire is six-and-a-half. Going on 15. She has inherited a pair of patent leather boots that are two sizes too big. She wears them anyway, almost everyday. She loves them. Style over function. That's my girl.

I decide to make cookies with her one day after school. She puts on a frilly apron I gave her the Christmas before. She is all little girl, rolling her dough balls in sprinkles and licking the beaters. She's receptive when I show her how to level off the flour and use a rubber spatula. She's adorable.

At breakfast that morning Max reads descriptions to her out of one of the gajillion toy catalogues we get (despite having flagged them all here). "The cheeky new monkey chatimal  (approx. 9"H) loves to repeat what you say, but in his own funny voice. Simply squeeze his left paw and then record a short message..." It is childhood and siblinghood embodied. Another moment I want to hold in my hands like a clutch of brightly colored crayons.

But there are bad days, too. So many times when I think I'll go lock myself in the car if I have to hear them fighting or talking over each other to tell me some dumb story I don't give a shit about.

***

This morning I am walking Claire across the playground to where her class lines up. A special ed teacher approaches me and asks if I'm Max's mom.

She then, essentially, wonders aloud if I teach him any manners.

Ok, let me put that in context. Apparently she's been saying hello to Max for years with no response from my less than social son. Yesterday, she finally called him on it. She inquired why he never says hello back. "Because I don't want to," was his reply.

So the teacher said something along the lines of, "I'm sure your mom teaches you manners at home, right?"

He said, "Not really."

This upsets me because 1. I do try to teach my kids manners. Of course I do. J. and I both talk to Max constantly about responding when someone greets him. About how it feels to be met with silence when you make the effort to say hi. And, 2. I thought we'd made more progress than that.

It is a rainy, windy morning. Weather than causes my eyes to water incessantly. As the teacher talks, tears course down my face. She thinks I'm crying. "No!" I yelp. "It's the wind." But I don't think she believes me.

***

A couple hours later, I chaperone a field trip to the zoo that Claire has been excited about. And, I dunno, can I say this about my kid? She is obnoxious.

Claire is all kinds of brightness and lightness and empathetic and caring. But today she does not shine. She is a know-it-all, announcing that she already understands every single thing the docent teaches, because she'd been to zoo camp once two years before. She goes up to kids who brought a lunch box and admonishes them for not having brought a sack, as instructed. She makes it her personal mission to enforce the rule of "no picking things up from the ground". And at the end of it all? She tells me it has been the most boring field trip ever.

I'm not sure how much you'd have to pay me to chaperone the next one.

I feel like a big parenting fail right now.

Despite the games of Battleship across the coffee table, the hours of homework help, the baking together and tucking in at night, I'm wondering if I'm doing it wrong. Are my kids just immature, or do I really suck? Am I too distracted? Too uninterested? Can they read on my face that I truly am not fascinated when they put noodles down their pants?

I need an epiphany.

Comments

[Paul]

My wife and I raised four kids to be high-achieving, productive adults. Trust me when I say that you are doing absolutely nothing wrong! Children aren't products, after all, but individuals, and the best we can do is sort of "nudge" them along their way in sensible directions.

[Jennifer Jo]

You're doing FINE. They're KIDS. And kids do the rudest things sometime. The best we can do is talk, talk, talk. Many times I do role plays to drive the point home.

[Chris]

I don't know why we're so hard on ourselves. I relate to your feelings and the situations you described. If you're doing it wrong (or failing), so am I, and so are the majority of my friends. You're doing great. I appreciate your honesty.

[slouchy]

oh, sweetie.

i understand this post, so well.

this was one day during which your kids were not at their best. use a wide-angle lens to see them as they really are, and suddenly everything will seem fine. pinkie swear.

xox

[M]

You and J have produced two individual beings that will perceive the world in their own unique way..just like we did. I think your only hope can be that they end up reasonably happy occasionally. : )

[V-Grrrl @ Compost Studios]

You know how financial planners talk all the time about how investing is done over the long haul and you don't make long-term investment decisions based on how the stock market has done in a day or a week or God help us, many months? That's parenting. My two are teens now. It's mostly good, but when it's not, oh man, it keeps me awake at night. Setting boundaries and fostering independence, the same issues you deal with when they're small are the same ones you wrestle with when they're older...

[Kristy]

I think that all of us are fairly obnoxious as children. Some of us grow up to be obnoxious, or strange, or shy, or loud, or whatever. I think as parents we do what we can, but ultimately we have to remember that our kids are people in a way that is completely separate from anything we do or don't do. It's not like a recipe where you put in X and Y and get Z, you know? A lot of that stuff they will grow out of, some of it will just hopefully at least mellow.

[Averil Dean]

Kids are kids. Sometimes they truly don't understand the point of those social niceties we take for granted. I think the best thing you can do is teach them humor. Humor, always. It's the no-fail, works-every-time solution and it's gotten me through more parenting challenges than any Dr. Phil nonsense I ever attempted.

Hang in there, mama.

[Karen (formerly kcinnova)]

My 19yo still barely acknowledges other life forms, but he did learn his roommates names. And now that I understand that the know-it-all is sometimes bossy because s/he is bored, the chaperoning will be easier.

I'm actually more concerned with the teacher who didn't bother to find out about an introvert before attacking his mother!

Hang in there.