Proud Moments in Parenting II

Last night was back to school curriculum night in Weaselville.  You know, the night that parents get to go school, sans kids.  The teachers go over the class syllabus and talk about how their individual classrooms run.  It's all very nice, friendly and informative and I hate it!

Yes, I like the Weasels school.  Some of the teachers we met with have been working with Weasels for years and some are having their first experiences in getting to know the Weasels.  They all are wonderful, loving and caring teachers dedicated to their students.

"Well then WeaselMomma, what's the problem?  This sounds like a positive experience.  Why on earth would you hate it so much?", I can hear your gears grinding now.

My problem is that this night is too informative.  It's not that I get information that I shouldn't  know, it's that I get information that I didn't want to know.

Case in point; File # W752.4-S

The first grade teacher, who is quickly becoming familiar with the Weasels via a school supply list flub of not having school supplies labeled and thus causing confusion in a room of 20+ six year old wild natives, told a story regarding snack time to the parents sitting at miniature desks around the classroom.

"There was one child who appeared to be eating chocolate cake.  The sweet lovely little child informed me that it was not actually chocolate cake, but 'a look alike' when I questioned the snack choice and reminded them that snack time is for a healthy snack only.  'See those chocolate chips?  Those are healthy.  My Mom would never send me to school with anything that wasn't healthy".  I gave the student the benefit of he doubt, but it sure did look pretty moist".

I bowed my head to allow my hair to cover the combination of shame and amusement that were broadcasting across my features.  I instinctively knew who that student was as I collapsed my face into my hands and shook my head.  I did not want that information.

Now that I had that information, I had to address it.  I don't need this kind of nonsense cluttering up my brain.  It's already a mess in there.  After the talk/presentation I now had the honor of introducing myself to the teacher in person, meeting for the first time the woman who I have consistently sent in late paperwork, unlabeled supplies and now, unwittingly, chocolate cake.

"Umm, hi.   It's nice to meet you" flashing my pearly whites in stark contrast to my blushing cheeks.  "I'm Smallest Weasel's Mom and yes, that was indeed chocolate cake".  I went on to explain that the cake was for her lunch dessert and that she always has an appropriate healthy snack in her lunch box for snack time.  The teacher smiled, chuckled and was very kind and I assured her that I would bust Smallest Weasel when I returned home and to feel free to call SW out on any snack that seems as questionable and moist as chocolate cake.

She explained that it was not her intention to get the child in trouble, just to share a funny ice breaking story with the parents.  I told her, "Welcome to Weaselville".

Mr. Weasel had been covering the 7th and 8th grade presentations while 1st and 5th grade had been my conquests.  He heartily laughed as I related the story to him as we exchanged mental notes in the car.  "It's a look alike?, that's awesome!", but soon we had to put on our game faces to enter back into the house.

"Oh, Smallest Weeeeassseelll.............come tell mom and Dad about snack time".  She tried to talk her way out of things, but we let her know that wouldn't fly and I asked about healthy chocolate chips and how to go about getting some.  Tears started to flow with an immediate request of, "I'm tired and want to go to bed".  Her passion, inflection and mini meltdown sent Mr. W and I into an uncontrollable  laughing fit.  We kissed her and sent her off to slumber, where she had a fitful night of bad dreams that for the first time in her six years she didn't want to talk about.  I'm sure that they all involved getting in trouble at school.

Yes, I acquired much good information last, but I also managed to bring home with me shame embarrassment and laughter.


Now do you get why I hate actually talking to teachers?

Book Ends

I have come to the conclusion that parenting is a huge waste of my time.  Not entirely, of course and I do mean this in the most positive of ways. 

Let me explain.

Eldest Weasel is 16.  She is a talented athlete, a gifted scholar, sharp witted and self challenging.  She spoke in full sentences by the time her 1st birthday rolled around and was running circles around the neighborhood by 10 months of age.  She would engage me in logical debate by the age of 3 and all to often win the argument.  She learned to ride a two wheeler within 15 minutes of her first attempt and taught herself to read at age 4.  She was reading at a high school level in the first grade.

I was Mom extraordinaire!  All of her meals were well balanced and her schedule was very disciplined.  I would read to her constantly and we made regular treks to the park.  PBS was the only television that she was exposed to.   I went out of my way to do everything right and my return on investment was my just desserts.  I could hold my head high with a superior pride in my parenting skills.

I had my own hobbies, that led to having five more Weasels.  Of course this led to much less one on one time with individual Weasels and I started loosening my tight grip on the bubble world that I raised them in.  Priorities change, time constraints change and eventually the kids break you much like a wild horse.  You burn out on some things and toss others into the 'whatever' pile, meh.  In the 16 years that I have been parenting, to a degree I have stopped parenting.

I now proudly wear the moniker of Slacker Mom.

I do not check backpacks.  I do not get involved with homework unless specific assistance is required.  The Weasels spend unconscionable amounts of time online and in front of the television.  I let them eat hot dogs for breakfast if they like.  Bedtimes are only strictly enforced on school nights.  I let them play Rock Band and Halo.

Of course I am always here for them emotionally.  I help to guide them through life and give them rules and responsibilities that they are held accountable for like chores and schoolwork.  I am always around for them to hang out, joke around or prepare a meal together once their responsibilities are fulfilled, but other than that I have burned out taken a more hands off approach and refuse to micromanage anything.  I just allow them to be themselves and they thrive.

Smallest Weasel is 6 years old.  She is a talented athlete, a gifted scholar, sharp witted and self challenging.  She rides a two wheeler, has a vocabulary that blows her teachers away and reads well above her grade level.  She can do more chin ups a day then most gown men I know.  She never had much time for Barney but loves Jaws and Mythbusters.  She has a sense of humor that is so sharp and dry that the jokes go flying past most adults because they can't grasp onto such a young child having the complexity of thought and to make references with speed and timing that most adults don't have.  I love having adults look at me quizzically and ask "Did she just say what I think she said?".   

So much for my superior parenting skills having anything to do with her accomplishments.  I have now learned that I can't take the credit for return on investment.  All credit goes directly to them for just being who they are naturally.

This works to my benefit too, you see.  If I can't take credit for my two books ends, neither can I take blame for having screwed up the Weasels that came in between them!