Do you remember in school that combination of nervousness and excitement of conferences? Maybe not the later years, but in elementary school, it’s exciting to see your mom and dad proud of you, yet nerve racking that maybe you weren’t nearly as great as you thought. Well, for my non parent friends, I would like you to know that it’s the same feeling when your kids have conferences. I am not sure of how they are now versus 20 years ago, but my experiences is full of anxiety. Don’t get me wrong, I know that my kids are amazing, so I most likely will get to hear about how wonderful they are, but I know any negatives will most definitely be my fault.
My oldest daughter, Audrey, is a very smart, funny, shy, contemplative child. Full of curiosity and a great comprehension of anything taught, I know that she is doing well academically. So I sit and listen to the teacher rave about her. How well she does on tests, how advanced she is in subjects, and how great it is to have her in her class. Then the pause….BUT…. I knew it was coming. One issue I needed to resolve was tardiness. Yuck. I knew this would be brought up. Why is she always late? You are the mother, and it IS your responsibility to get your children to the school on time. She does so much better when she’s here early. etc. I, of course, heard all these things and became very emotional about the subject because all I heard while she said these things was, “You’re failing motherhood! You’re not doing your job! Your child is lacking because you’re so flipping incompetent!” This teacher did not say these things, but definitely perceived her criticism as a personal attack on my ability as a mother.
I tried to explain myself, but within a couple min of talking, I realized I sounded like the biggest excuse maker in the world. A “the dog ate my homework” excuse would have been better received than my reasons. After we addressed other issues, I left and proceeded to sit in my car having myself a good ugly cry. After thoroughly wiping the fluids from every hole in my face with some left over McDonald’s napkins, I went on my way.
Why the heck did this affect me so strongly? I’m sure there are parents in there that have to hear about what a little shit Tommy is, or how far behind academically Sally is. My child is doing awesome. I should be leaving with a sense of pride and happiness. Not snot and Alice Cooper eye makeup.
The reason is because this is a subject I kind of feel helpless on. When people ask why we late,are I always want to reply the same way. Which reason would you like? The time that Genevieve decided she had to poop before we left? Or maybe the time I leaned over and spilled my coffee all over the kitchen floor. Or we could go with the time that the girls decided to use one of there shoes to tie up a fort they made, so I had to spend 10 min untying knots. Or our most common occurrence, bus #12. Yes. There is actually one bus that has made us late numerous occasions. If, in the last 3 min of our drive to school we get behind this particular bus, it takes us an additional 5-10 min. And these are just normal days. I won’t even begin to give examples of what the winter months in Michigan hold for my family. Which reason is your favorite?
Today, like a super mom, I managed to have everyone ready to go out the door EARLY. Then it happened. That moment the universe realizes it was not paying nearly enough attention, and forgot to throw some crap your way. My 4 year old was upset because she wanted to wear a very wrinkly blue and white dress. With black pants under. And she no longer liked her sparkly shoes. They were “too sparkly”. In the mean time, my 7 and 9 year old were “getting in the car”, which really means, we’re going to run around outside and hopefully find some puddles to jump in. And while we’re at it, maybe we can find a way to get a bit of dirt on various places of our body. So, I told my very upset 4 year old that the blue dress is beautiful, and pants are a great idea, and I understand that sparkly shoes were so “last week” but she’s stuck with them. And no you can’t have candy with your breakfast. Finally, which feels like an eternity, I load all the kids in the car. Ok. We wont be early, but we can still make it on time. Until about 10 min into our 35 min drive. “Oh no! I forgot my swim stuff!” My brain quickly reasons out the proper response. I really want to say, “Well, that’s unfortunate for you. I guess when you said you were ready and had everything for school, you didn’t really check. Guess you won’t be swimming today.” Then I realize that it would most definitely result in a talk with me about how I’m the parent, and thus, responsible to make sure my child has what she needs for school. I weigh out which scolding I would prefer, that, or the “late again?” one. I turn around and head back to the house to retrieve the forgotten bag. Following 2 buses, and having to wait for traffic to be guided around an accident were just the frosting on “C’mon!” cake we had this morning. My kids were 20 min late.
So dear friends, when I say I’m sorry for being late, I am sincere. When I don’t feel the need to explain, making myself seem indifferent, I am not. Just know, that the reason for my “whatever” approach to our tardiness isn’t because I don’t care about punctuality, it’s because the reasons are usually so absurd, and happen so often, I just have to let it go.
thatbethy 