Saturday, September 19, 2015

Celebrating the Fail or Those Disney Princesses Need Therapy

What a week. I missed the gym too many times. I got chewed out by a student at work. I had 4 instances of missed communication at home. I ate a cupcake which put me way off my healthy eating plan. I still have yet to find the time and energy to paint the small bathroom. I was on Facebook too much and when I wasn’t, I bought another dress on Zulily. The clean sheets still haven’t been put on the beds. I honestly have no idea what my new middle schooler has in terms of tests or homework. I forgot to turn in the Squirrel’s paperwork at before/after school care. Overall it was a typical week full of small failures and while moments sucked, it was still a good week. And let’s be honest, most of these failures were things that only I was keeping track of – nothing of true significance that raised alarm. And as it turns out, that is an issue.

See during one of these moments of failure, I learned that my dear Moose thinks that he has to be perfect. And that is a problem. While I have been walking around blissfully unaware of tests and homework in sixth grade, some of my mom friends have been more successful in getting information from this new tribe of secretive moody pre-teens. And one of those mom friends alerted me that there was a Math Quiz and that it was Bad. Hmm I think. That’s funny because I have asked Moose how things are going and he’s always said they are fine. Lesson learned. Preteen “fine” means ask again.

So over dinner I ask, “I heard there was a tough math quiz. How did it go?” And that’s when things got real. Tears erupted and my brain started sounding one of those alarms that are on submarines that signal that water is onboard and everyone is going down. Turns out math is in another language this year, we don’t know what’s going on, we are flunking, we are stupid. Whoa. Where did all this come from? I thought everything was “fine.” Nope. Things are decidedly not fine. Things suck. Moose cries as he explains that he flunked the test and everyone else didn’t. He is a Failure.

And that’s when it occurred to me that while I have learned that I experience failures, I know they aren’t typically Failures. And even if they are, I regroup and ask for help. But Moose doesn’t know that. He doesn’t see that I fail epically on a daily basis. He somehow thinks that the rest of us are getting things right all the time and that we know everything (insert laugh track here.) Turns out looking like I have my shit together is a failure – did not see that plot twist coming.

“Moose, did you ask questions in class if you don’t understand the math?” A look of horror crosses his face – of course he didn’t; everyone would KNOW that he was stupid then. Someone cue the Full House music, we are about to have a moment. And I start to explain the following:

1. You have to ask questions. Your teacher’s job is to explain things in a way that you understand. If he isn’t doing that, he isn’t doing his job, but he doesn’t know until you ask. I ask questions all the time. People who know everything are boring. Curious people are interesting to be around.

2. We all need help. I ask for help every day. Whether you need to stay after school for study hour or need a study buddy, there are people here to help you. I am here to help you. Needing help is not a sign of weakness.

3. Failing now is fantastic! I’m glad it feels terrible – it means you will fight hard not to feel like this again. And flunking a test in sixth grade is perfect because doing it early means you will learn how to study differently and ask for help before it really matters like in late high school and college. Please. Fail now. I’d much rather we get this out of the way in sixth grade than have you fail out of college because you didn’t know how to ask questions. Now is the time to learn how to make good habits.

4. We will always be on Team Max. We will always be proud of you and love you. Follow the Four Golden Rules* and we will always be fine. A sixth grade math quiz is not one of the Four Golden Rules. We will get upset when it matters but not before then.

Where did this tendency to be perfect come from?  Meh, I can answer that since I struggle with it too. But I can break this cycle of perfect. I can be more transparent about my failures. I can show that you can brush them off or that they are not the end of the world – that eventually the sun rises the next day and that things will smooth over. You can ask for help and you will find people who care – and if they don’t care, they are assholes and don’t deserve to be in your circle of trust. As we see babies fall into holes so deep and dark that they think the only way out is to end it all, believing that high school drama is forever and that Facebook is for real, we need to start celebrating failures for what they are - opportunities to learn and grow. Do you really think all those Disney princesses really rode off with the princes happily ever after? No. You know that Cinderella has an obsessive compulsive cleaning disorder driven by her need for acceptance from a hostile step parent – that shit isn’t going to change just because she lives in a castle. She’s going to need some serious therapy.  I’ve got the name of a great therapist -you just have to book her early because she is so fabulous.

Hopefully next time the Moose feels alone and lost he knows to come to his parents. As his parents, we will try to high five the failure and come up with a game plan so it doesn’t happen again. And if it does again – big deal - we learn to regroup and brainstorm other solutions. I am prepared for the fail to not be as simple as a math quiz too; eventually this will get more complicated so I’m glad we had this test run. As Mom, maybe I’ll use this experience to highlight my epic failures to show that we all struggle and aren’t perfect. Perfect people are boring anyway - at least that's what my therapist says.

*The Four Golden Rules
1. Don’t smoke.
2. Don’t do drugs.
3. Always respect women.
4. Always practice safe sex.

Monday, September 7, 2015

The Second Class Second Born or Why Is Mom Crazy

“Crap. Library was today wasn’t it? Looks like you’ll have to take your book back next week,” I tell my youngest. Here it was, only the second week of school and I had blown the first library due date. It’s not like I hadn’t had fair warning – I got the newsletter AND the email that clearly stated that library books were due back on Friday. And still I forgot to stick the book in my kindergartener’s school bag. Nothing like setting low expectations with the kindergarten teacher early. Unfortunately this was not the first time it was evident that my Squirrel was a second born. 

See, I never would have dropped a library book due date with my first born, the Moose. Heavens no! And if I had come down with a severe case of food poisoning and was physically unable to lift the book and place it in his book bag, I would have sent a long apologetic email to his teacher, promising that he (and I) were responsible human beings. With my second born, I simply shrugged and figured library day would come around again next week. 

Thus is the fate of the second born. While the first born received books from every book order form that darkened our kitchen counter, the second born is directed to the bookshelf in our house which holds all the previously purchased book order form books and his order form is quietly “filed.” The first born had Friend Birthday Parties beginning at the age of four, complete with themes, goodie bags and treasure hunts. The second born is getting his first this year when he turns six. Instead of a whimsical party at home, I am looking at prefab parties at the Science Center or Skyzone. 

Maybe I’m just getting senile or maybe I just am constantly dropping the ball. But the second kiddo is definitely getting the shaft. I am up to my arms in washing football pants and soccer socks now, which was never a distraction when I was bringing up the first born. While my first born has every second of his life documented in photos, my youngest will have to settle for Facebook posts instead. 

Do I love these babies differently? No and yes. I love them both the same – so much that my heart literally bursts when I think about them. But with my first born, everything was a first and we were EXCITED and ANXIOUS for each new milestone, pushing him through them and forgetting to enjoy the moment, always reading what was supposed to happen next week. I have deleted every single one of those weekly emails with my second born. With my second born, everything is a last – the last time I will experience first steps, the last time I will hear a first word. I rejoiced the day I stopped nursing my oldest. I sobbed for two days when I stopped nursing my second, and still now it tugs a little at my heartstrings when I think of it. With my first born, everything is new – we are starting to experience hormones and I’m already looking forward for that newness to pass. With my second, he will catch me just staring at him and will smile at me, probably wondering what happened to the mom who ha her game together. All I’m doing is soaking in these moments of his age, wishing they would never end – because I know what happens next. Not that the future is bad, but there is nothing like whatever age he is at the moment. I know now not to speed it up.

Maybe if I am still long enough, time will stop and I can revel in it a little bit longer. In the meantime, I am begging forgiveness on library fines and promise to hit the bookfair at conferences. Ask my first born, he’ll vouch for me.