An F In Parenting

 

 

Children begin by loving their parents; 

as they grow older they judge them; 

sometimes they forgive them.  

~Oscar Wilde

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He-eeee-llll-oooo!  Whew, it has been way too long!  I took a bit of some "time off" you could say.  Not time off from good blogging, but time to devote solely to work.  The rest of it to screw up my kids just a bit more.  The rest of it to whine and complain.  And a few leftover minutes to love my husband.  Have I mentioned how much I hate the month of August?

Well, you've all asked about it, and I teased you a bit on Facebook, so...it's time to talk about parent teacher conferences.  I know what most of you are thinking, it's barely September.  Our school district does a mini-conference very early on to discuss any potential issues but also to give you a chance to tell your child's teacher things about them they may not have figured out in two days.  In two days, I'd say Madison's second grade teacher got to know about us a little too much.  Perhaps I should have brought a disclaimer that I'm on an endless pursuit to mom of the year.  

First, a little background information.  When Madison and I went for orientation to drop off her supplies and meet her teacher, daddy was out of state for a conference.  We did take a picture of them together to send daddy as I didn't want him to feel he was missing anything.  Then, I scheduled the conference for a time when Aaron would be out of town for a meeting.  If you aren't following me, the most important piece of information you need to know is that daddy has not been present yet, at least not for the second grade teacher to see for herself.  

Off I went, after what I would opt to call a "doozie" of a week, to parent-teacher conferences.  I filled out my letter size sheet ahead of time packed with information about Maddie.  Why do I feel like next year the teacher will have a small questionnaire about mom and dad too?  Madison's teacher is a lovely woman who reminds me greatly of her first grade teacher.  As I entered the room for conferences, I was ushered to a stool at a small table.  We spent time talking about Madison and how she approaches learning and her personality in general.  Have you ever had a conversation with someone where you can tell from the look in their eyes, there is more they are not telling you?  Yep, I sensed it right away.  The conversation began a little something like this....

"I've really struggled with telling you this as we don't really know each other, but now that we've talked, I feel like I've just got to tell you," she said.  Honestly, the first things that flashed through my mind were, had my driving been bad recently?  Had I said something silly?  Had I burped wildly and she told her teacher?  I braced myself, she continued.

"Madison came to school the other morning and I could tell she was upset.  So, I asked her about it and she took me aside and we sat in the bathtub..."  Yep, this is the point where I nearly burst into laughter.  Madison's teacher has an old claw foot tub in her room that the side has been cut off and there are cushions inside making it a marvelous couch.  Seriously, it's amazing.  But never did I think I would have a conversation with her teacher with the words, "so we sat in the bathtub and we talked."  Let's move along.  

"I'm not sure what went on but she told me she's afraid that her daddy is going to send her mommy away and you are never coming home."  You could have knocked me completely out of that little chair elementary teachers make you sit in with one tap.  

I knew exactly what she was referencing.  I've never claimed to be a perfect parent, and this was one of my less than stellar moments.  The first full week that Madison is in school is also what we loving refer to in my industry as rush!  It's awful to say the least.  I happened to come home the first day of that week in quite a funk.  I then proceeded to pick up Malea who felt the best treat she could give mommy that day is to scream at the top of her lungs all the way home.  The kind of scream that makes your own throat hurt because it's so hideous.  

I know somewhere between 13th Street and Roosevelt Avenue, I lost any last bit of sanity I had.  I tried to remain calm, but was quickly losing it.  When we got home, daddy could tell immediately my day had not been good.  Daddy doesn't deal with the huge amount of estrogen in our home very well.  So, he in turn also exploded.  While trying to explain to him that I tried to remain calm but it was not pleasant, he said these words to me.

"Why don't you just go away and calm down?"

My response?  "After today, it would be tempting not to come back."

Now, I didn't say that because I meant it.  It's things over worked, over tired, and over stressed parents say but never really mean.  I had no idea Maddie was standing behind him.  So, in her 2nd grade brain, she stewed, she tossed and she turned, and she worried herself to death that daddy was sending me away and I was never coming back.  

I began explaining the situation very honestly to her teacher, shrugging it off as a bad day and a bad moment of parenting at best.  Then, she says to me. 

"Well, I wasn't sure what home was like for Madison.  You know, daddy wasn't at orientation and now he's not here today.  I wasn't sure if daddy was in the picture."

Oh no!  Aaron's not being there had created this image for her teacher of feuding parents, on the verge of divorce, losing control, pitting our child right in the middle.  I began explaining again, all the while looking at that bathtub.  Would it all sound believable if I were telling it in the tub, my mind wondered?    Oh what she must think of us.  

In the end, she encouraged us to talk to Madison and reaffirm everything was OK but not to make her think she couldn't talk to her teacher.  Yep, it was proud parenting moment #215 for sure!  The entire incident was really not of the level it was blown into, but I still felt like a pretty horrible parent.  I called Aaron on my cell phone while leaving the school to share this wonderful information.  I had to work late that night and needed him to talk to Madison.  

The next morning, I took time to talk to Maddie myself.  I was met with, "I know, I know mom, about my teacher."  

I took several minutes to explain to her that she could tell her teacher anything and that I was very sorry for what had happened.  No one was being sent away.  No one was leaving.  I apologized at least 10 more times to make sure she knew how sorry I really was.  We hugged.  It was all good.  

"What did your teacher tell you when you talked, Maddie?"  I asked.  

"She told me to go to my room when daddy uses words like that," she replied.  I was slightly confused.  Daddy was really just asking me to take a few minutes to calm down, minus an appropriate tone of voice to go with it.  And then it dawned on me.  Proud parenting moment #216.  Daddy had thrown a swear word into that conversation when telling me to go away and calm down.  I won't repeat the word but it was a big one!  I guess we ran out of time to discuss daddy's swearing problem at conferences.  Or, perhaps that is being saved for when this mysterious daddy figure makes an appearance. 

Well, we definitely left our mark this year, and only 5 days into the school year.  I think in November, we'll come to conferences in custom t-shirts.  Mine will say, "I suck at being a parent."  Aaron's will say, "I suck at being a parent, too."  

At least I can say the only way from here is up!