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| Boy enjoying Millie's ice cream! #ParentingLessons |
Greetings from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania! Things have been busy. I am still a working mom of three, working full time who is trying to make a difference. I do a lot of things and try to be present so that I can learn from them. I share them on this blog so that we can learn together.
Below are some thoughts, hacks, and/or lessons that I have learned from navigating my world.
We have had quite a few two hour weather delays this school year. Generally, they are standard--albeit inconvenient. However, one stands out because it taught me an important lesson, "Trust but verify".
The morning started with a built in inconvenience. The temperature was low, the roads were iced over and school was on a two-hour delay. Despite the inconvenience, we enjoyed the extra time. I worked and cleaned up and the kids watched TV and played. Everyone was dressed and ready to go, early because of the delay. However, when it was time to leave, my second grader froze.
While I was trying to walk out of the door, he announced, “It’s pajama day.” Because he had the confidence of someone who had received a laminated memo or a text directly from the headmaster, I listened. Because I often don't keep track of those details, I was not surprised that I was in the dark. That said, I was suspicious.
So, I paused. Mid-sip of my tea. I commented, “I don't think so."
“Yes, it is!” he said, even more confident, refusing to move.
The secret to life may be learning how to overcome mistakes.
I did what any annoyed mom does when confronted with obvious nonsense: I doubled down. I did a cursory check of the school calendar, my emails, and texts from other parents. No pajama emails. No pajama texts. No pajama calls. I didn't even see anything about a "spirit week" or a made-up holiday.
“It’s not pajama day,” I said again. My sixth grader said, with the ever-present middle school sensitivity said, "What are you talking about?! It is not pajama day!" ("Idiot" was implied even though not articulated.)
That’s when the visible anguish started--tears welling up, squirming, raised voice declaring, "My class won pajama day in a contest!". Then, my empathy started to overrule my sense. He was so sincere and I know that my schedule interferes with my ability to review all the emails, app communications and papers that come from the school. Also, I recognized that the sixth grader did not have "class specific knowledge".
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I did not want responsibility for the "social ruin" that would ensue if he showed up wearing his uniform while the rest of the class was in pajamas.
After 10 minutes of negotiation (which included me saying “we have to leave NOW” no fewer than twelve times), I tried reaching a compromise, he could go to school in normal clothes and bring pajamas in his backpack "just in case".
That was a mistake. He went upstairs supposedly to grab his pajamas. When it took too long, I went up after him and found him in his underwear. When asked what he was doing his said, "putting on my pajamas because it is pajama day!"
I was hot under the collar and beyond frustrated. We had a deal--one that was mutually negotiated and agreed upon--so I thought. At this point, I just wanted to leave and so, in response to the increasing the ticking clock of reality and the decrease in my giving a damn… I caved and became invested.
I rejected the first set of unmatching pajamas, I rejected the next set because they were too small. I even rejected another because they were inappropriate for a frigid day. We settled on a sweatshirt and pajama pants. With my second grader wearing pajamas and my sixth grader wearing a huge smirk, we finally left the house.
We finally arrived at school and I walked him to his class. When the doors opened, the truth revealed itself.
Every other child was wearing a uniform. Not a one kid in pajamas.
Not. One.
My son peaked around the corner, checked out the scene and began backing up in embarrassment. With his eyes the size of saucers, he says, “I guess it’s not pajama day”.
I whispered the story to the teacher. She said, "At least he's comfortable!"
Interestingly, despite the mistake and embarassment, it was all good.
After school, despite the mistake, it was all good...
He skipped into the house talking about what a good day he had, and I was oddly proud.
He was able to shed his embarrassment and enjoy his day. Instead of allowing his mistake define his day, he defined it for himself--like a boss.
There is a lesson here. I realized that I could learn from him. For too long I allowed my mistakes to make me feel like a bad person instead of accepting what they truly are, expressions of humanity. Sometimes, we all make mistakes. When we do, we should own it and move on.
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