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Thursday, October 9, 2008

Mommy Wars

It is a Monday evening and I am sitting in the lobby of the local dance studio. Our darling princess, Paige, is behind closed doors learning first position and piroutte, her giggling rising above all the other ballerinas. Because Scott has to work late, I sit alone with my nose buried in Sandra Lee’s autobiography (highly recommend), pretending to read as I secretly eavesdrop on the surrounding moms and their conversations. They are engaging in what Scott and I call the “Mommy Wars”. If you have ever sat at a PTA event or been on the sidelines of a third grade soccer match you know exactly what I am talking about. Each mother tries to outdo the next…”We feel so sorry for our Claire’s teacher - she is at the next reading level and Mrs. Smith has no choice but to teach her the first grade book” [read: my kid is smarter than your dyslexic moron] or “Little Dalton is just exhausted because just every single weekend on of his little Cub Scout pals is asking for another sleepover” [read: my angel is super popular compared to your buck-toothed little monster] or “We just call her Skinny Minny - all she want to eat is veggies these days” [read: listen, tubby, keep your pork rind eating plus sized six year old away from my supermodel-in-training]. As I listen to them pile on the crap, I wonder if they know how they sound. They don’t sound proud -- they sound pathetic. The image the project is one where they have to explain away their kids with some positive spinning explanation. Just like in a job interview…”What is your biggest fault?”, they ask. “Well,” as you pause for dramatic effect, “I guess I am just something of a perfectionist”. These same moms that spend an hour convincing you how accomplished and valued their kid is can be seen twenty minutes later admonishing them to the point of tears for not hugging little Madison bye-bye. God forbid our kids don’t live up to our own Freud inspired crazy expectations of them. All these kids ever really learn is that they can never please mommy & daddy unless they act as their own personal mini-me robot. Then they wonder why kids rebel 5 or 6 years down the line? Not me.

When I enrolled Bradley in Middle School the nice cardigan enrobed woman at the first table told me that he had been selected for “Challenge English” and “Challenge Science”. Wow, I thought, that sucks but at least he will get the extra helps he needs. It was truly not really upsetting to me. I moved on to the rest of the registration process, saddened but not disappointed…paying for school lunches, picking up the gym uniform, getting the locker combination and at the last table that we parents were herded to, they had to do a final review of the kids class schedule before we could leave. They looked up and down intently at the class schedule I had thrust towards them and I muttered, “Yeah, ‘challenge’ classes”. She looked up at me, broadly smiled and said, “You do know that Challenge Classes are part of the honors and gifted program…right?”. Hell no, I didn’t know that! I get it now -- ‘challenge’ because they are harder than the rest of the classes. DUH! Until that moment I did not really know that this mop haired kid was gifted. I had just allowed Bradley to be Bradley, and look what happened. He is now an amazing 15 year old and still in Honors and AP level classes at the local high school. Not because I engaged in the mommy wars - not because I held out huge expectations for him - not because he was pushed and prodded. But just because this kid is organically intelligent. Be clear, though - I support him, I encourage him, I provide academic oversight but not direction, we expose him to challenging concepts (get it…“Challenge“!) So, I bury my head back in the Sandra Lee biography (did I mention what a fab book this is??) and let the warring continue around me. When my little Paige comes flying out of the studio, her hair a mess and too busy jabbering to her mommy to hug her ballerina friends goodbye -- I don’t fix her hair, I don’t force her to hug a friend goodbye and I don’t make her stop talking. Paige will just be Paige and she will always know that her parents love her no matter what.