Wasabi with that?

It's a well known fact to those close to me (and, most people who just met me) that I am a chocolate lover. I started out in my childhood eating all the sweet combinations of milk chocolate found in most grocery stores. As I've matured, so has my taste in chocolate. I prefer it dark these days. I always check the ingredient list. And, I love trying new flavors. So, when I glanced down the chocolate aisle of the grocery store this morning and saw wasabi infused dark chocolate . . . it became an essential need for the day.

Of course, my well-known household rule of 'Never waste chocolate' doesn't necessarily mean that all chocolate must 'go directly to my waist', either. So, I took my new found chocolate to my kids' school for the parent teacher conferences that were scheduled to be last week, but had to happen this week instead. (a little chocolate bribe never hurts)

The first conference, I have to fully admit . . . I was late to on purpose. I wanted to speak to the Resource teacher, and avoid the Regular Ed teacher (she's grumpy). And, what luck, the Reg. Ed. teacher was gone for the day by the time I got there. So, it was just me and the awesome Resource teacher. :)

I went in, went over the new I.E.P. (that's Individualized Education Plan, for those who don't speak Spec. Ed), signed my name of approval on the line, and offered chocolate and abundant "thank-you's" to the woman who inspires my son to call himself a 'nerd' because of how much he loves school. Truly, I wish all teachers had the time and talents to help each child on an individualized basis, like good Special Ed teachers do- it makes such a difference!

Next was my baby's P/T conference. Ok, ok, he just turned 8 . . . but, he's still my baby. Apparently, his teacher forgot about it and went home to check on her dogs, so I wasn't technically late to that one. I was able to help staple homework packets with the T.A. while we waited for the teacher's return.

Now, I have to admit before revealing what went down, that I really like this teacher. She is a good teacher for my son, and he really likes her, too.



"Oh, I forgot we scheduled it for today!" she says as she walks in the door.

"That's ok, I've been able to help do a little T.A. work while we waited."

(She grabs her paperwork.)

"How is his personality in the classroom?"

(awkward smile from her)

I continue- "I know he likes to be a jokester at home. Is it a distraction at school?"

"He is funny." (awkward smile/pause) "It's good to have a sense of humor." (awkward smile/pause) "It can be a bit distracting."




** [A quick discussion of what J has been working on at school, homework, what's coming up next, some samples of previous work, upcoming field trips, etc.]**

Everything is going rather well, so far. Then . . . it hits.




"Now, he really needs help getting his homework packet back to school every day."

"I know. He does all of his work at after-school and he keeps it here. I've been reminding him not to forget to turn it back in, so he can get credit for all his good work. But, I can help remind him more often."

(awkward smile/pause)

"It's really important that he does turn it back in . . . But, it's really your responsibility . . . you should be the one doing his homework with him, not anyone else . . . other people can help you, but ultimately you're responsible . . . he tells me that you don't do anything . . . I just feel like you need to be doing more as the parent."

(I just stare back at her. Shocked. Annoyed. I chew my gum a little as I mentally chew over what was just thrown at me.)

"Ha!", I finally say. (deciding to take this one as a joke.)

(She looks confused. Obviously wondering if her message got through to me.)

(I give her back one of her awkward smile/pauses)

(It seems for a few seconds that we are locked into an awkward stare- off with each other)

(She breaks first) "Well, I guess that's all."





Just to be nice, I share my wasabi chocolate along with a genuine smile before walking away.

(A little peace- offering chocolate never hurts, right?)


---

I guess I shouldn't have such a chip on my shoulder, but P/T conferences always annoy me. I don't need the teacher to tell me what my kid is capable of doing. We live together- I already know what he can do -duh! And, I have no inner burning desire to get off work and school, to willingly sign up for lectures about my personality defects as a parent.

And, even when there is no lecture involved, as a whole, P/T conferences are all just fluff to me. All the sweet and innocent fluff of how "special and wonderful" my child is (Oh, but, don't ask for specifics on how they are special and wonderful; there might not be an answer prepared for that).

And then, BAM! the lecture about how I "should be doing more as a parent" seems to sneak it's way into the conversation.


(Which always makes me wonder - who exactly wrote this book about what I 'should be' doing . . . and, shouldn't I have read it before coming to this meeting, so that we can at least all be on the same page?)



Just like my first bite of wasabi infused chocolate today, I knew the heat was probably coming at some point, but I still wasn't ready for it, when it hit me.


---

Honestly . . . I'm not sure I'll ever feel 'ready' for the heat that I always seem to get at these conferences since my divorce.

Like I said . . . I like this teacher. In fact, if I were my cute little stay at home mommy-self of 5 years ago, I'm pretty sure she'd really like me, too! I would be coming to the classroom to help out on a weekly basis, and going on all the field trips. And, I don't even blame her entirely for giving me the age-old "As a parent, you really should be (fill in the blank)" lecture.

Most experienced mom's and teachers can't seem to help slipping out of compassionate mode and into lecture mode (I should know. Oh, did I mention I am also a teacher?) ;)



But, really, if I've gained one major plus in my post-divorce life, it's that I have a new perspective on the important things. If I'd had this P/T conf. 5 years ago, I probably would have gone home crying about what a failure I am as a mom.

As it is . . . I'm not stressing myself out over this one (even if I might honestly be a failure according to many). I don't care to compare myself to all the other moms in the world, anymore. I'm ok with comparing myself to how I was doing 6 months ago, or a year ago. And, I still see improvements in my capacities, so I feel fine about how things are still far from perfect at this point.

I get the final say on what I 'should be' doing at this point. I decide what my priorities are. And, I decide if I'm living up to them, or not. Some things could definitely improve, that's for sure! But, at least I'm still trying.

So . . .

(awkward smile)

I'm sorry if I don't feel like accelerating my household stress levels by trying to squish another 2 hours of homework time into the 3 hours we get together before bedtime in the evenings. I'm sorry if I think it's a complete WIN for my kids to simply enjoy reading whatever they like on a daily basis, rather than saying to them "Oh, you can't read that, because it's not on the approved list!" And, I'm sorry if I don't seem to give a crap about how my kids compare to other kid's their age. All I care about is how they are doing now compared to how they were 6 months ago, or a year ago.


And, as long as I still see improvement, a general ability to complete grade level work, and a continued love of learning in my kids . . . then, triple checking homework packets at the end of every day is my last priority in life.

(awkward smile)


And, who knows, maybe by next year I'll be swept off my feet by some gallant, rich, handsome dude who's always wanted to live his life supporting me and my kids . . . and, I'll go right back to my perfect little stay at home mommy world of baking cookies and perfecting my scrapbooking skills, devoting all my time and efforts to helping my little one's turn out the most perfect looking homework packets you've ever seen.

(awkward smile)

But, don't hold your breath.

(awkward smile)

(pause)

(eats another bite of wasabi chocolate)



. . . And, don't even get me started on my lack of care or concern for if my kids know how to fill in the correct bubble on Standardized Testing Day- rolling my eyes.

What's the Difference?

Last summer, I played outside with my boys a lot. They're getting bigger and need a lot more aggressive play time, these days. So, I kicked the soccer ball, tossed the football around, pretended to tackle them, and played catch with baseballs and mitts. Pretty good, I thought, for a known girly- girl. And, what was even better, I actually had a lot of fun doing it all.

It's not that I'm trying to be their dad. Even if their dad isn't the kind who you'd likely find outside playing catch (he's way more into video games). I'm still the mom. I know that. They know that. But, it doesn't mean we can't spend some good mother-son time of our own, playing catch in the yard.

And, as I found out last year, these times are also good opportunities to discuss the differences between boys and girls.

On one day, last summer, I was outside playing catch with my 9 year old. He threw the baseball a little too low, and too fast for me to catch it in time, and it hit me smack dab in my crotch. Luckily, he's 9, so even his fast ball didn't really hurt me.

But, I reacted in my girly-girl 'I felt a slight pain for a slight second' way, anyway.

"Oops!", he shouted out at me "Sorry." (looking a little embarrassed about where it'd hit me.)

"It's ok.", I said.

"What happened?", asked my 7 year old (Who had been playing elsewhere in the yard, but stopped when he thought his brother might be getting into trouble for something.)

"I hit mom in the balls."

(. . . uhhhh, I thought, did I hear that right?)


"I'm a girl", I replied. "I don't have balls."

"Oh.", he said. "Then, I just hit you in the wiener."

"No. . . . I don't have one of those, either."

He looked at me as if he was trying to decide if this was like one of those things that girls say when they don't want to admit the truth (like when girls say they don't fart.)
But, then I asked if he wanted to talk about the differences between boys and girls [again], and he said "Oh. Um, ok."




I keep thinking they get it every time I talk about the physical differences between boys and girls. But, then, something like this will happen, and we have to discuss it again.

I guess it's normal (if normal is ever a word that can be used to describe any aspect of parenting) to have to explain the physical differences to them over and over again. After all, they only have brothers, and it's not like I'm showing them naked pictures to really illustrate the solid differences (I wouldn't do that).

I did draw some crazy looking stick figures after that day last summer, to try to show them what I was talking about. And, they laughed hysterically, and talked about how 'mom drew inappropriate pictures' for days afterwards.

But, even if it's all funny and embarrassing to my boys now, I think it's good that we're having these talks when they are little. I'm realizing that it takes time to talk about things openly, and for them to really remember what it is I've told them. And, that's ok, because by starting now, we have time. And, eventually, I'm guessing they'll get it.

I just don't want them to end up like me, and get to 7th grade, not even knowing what the word virgin means.

I'm not saying my parents never had 'the talk' with me. I'm sure they did. I actually remember how upsetting it was for me when my mom explained that the period I just got wasn't just some teenager thing that I'd soon grow out of(something I was truly hoping was the case). When my mom told me that she, in fact, was still getting her period, I thought to myself "Oh no! She's old and she's still getting this? When does it ever end?!" (Funny how I still wonder that at times)

But, I'm starting to realize that just hurdling the initial fears of having 'the talk', and then doing it all in one big shot, isn't good enough. Truthfully, it takes many, MANY 'talks' before kids really understand things so foreign to them as the biological differences of the sexes, puberty, and then sex itself. And, I'm sure my boys won't really get any of it until they experience it, and our talks suddenly become relevant to them. But, I want my boys to at least be somewhat prepared with accurate information, before biology kicks in and takes them out of their innocent childhood.

So, I asked them again tonight. "What's the difference between boys and girls?"

The responses:

"Oh! Boys have pockets and Girls have purses."
"No. Girls have long hair and Boys have short hair."
"No, ummm, they have different (pointing to his crotch, then whispering) . . . wieners."
"Boys have muscles, and Girls wear dresses?"

(Then, they both look at me like puppy dogs waiting to see who got the 'right' answer.)

"Ok, I said, I was just checking what you thought. Girls don't have wieners, by the way. They have vaginas."

"Oh yeah!", they both say as I walked down the hall to finally let out the laughter that I'd suppressed so expertly while they were talking.



"We just forgot the word for it."



". . . And, that's how babies come out, right?"



Hmmmm . . . improvement, I think to myself.



"Yes, I say. That's where the babies come out."


Good enough for tonight, I think, as I look at the clock and see it is now past their bedtime anyway.

And, I'm sure we'll talk about it again soon. Like, perhaps this summer, when we're playing catch again.