Thursday, February 21, 2013

Ok, Let's Dance.

Dear Mrs. Big-Dude's-Teacher,

I'm not sure if you remember me, as we have only met that one time at the scheduled Parent-Teacher Conference in October. I'm Big Dude's Mom, the straight A student you said was a "really good kid" but who had a bad habit of talking too much in class after his own work was completed. And I'm his Mom, the one who said that we supported the school and did not condone misbehavior in school in any manner, the Mom who sat with you and discussed different behavior modification techniques that you could use with Big Dude to help discourage this overly social behavior. You might also make note of the fact that you haven't heard much from me since that conference. I haven't been barraging you with emails or special requests for my kid. I haven't been bypassing the normally acceptable "chain of command" by contacting the principal before discussing matters with you. 

We are not tigers, or helicopters, or snow plows, or any other wacky parenting-label phrase that is currently popular. Rather than try to shield our children from adversity, heartbreak, or obstacles, we are trying to prepare our children to deal with them. It starts with setting a solid example for them, letting them see what a mature adult does in certain situations when things don't go as planned. That is followed by discussing with them how to do this for themselves and even walking them through things that they encounter, holding their hands and helping them along the way. The end goal is to sit back and maybe with some verbal encouragement, watch our children deal with adverse circumstances independently and successfully. 

Sometimes, however, as a parent, there comes a time when its important to demonstrate to our children just how important they are to us and just how far we are willing to go for them. Cuz they are right now just children. And if they were capable of handling everything on their own at this age, they'd have their own apartments and jobs, and I wouldn't have to break up fights over whose turn it is to pet the dog, or who should have to put the milk away when Big Dude got it out but Little Dude touched it last. But they aren't. So they don't. And its up to us to help them sort through the batshit crazy that crosses their paths. And this, my dear, is where you come in.

Because you certainly are. Batshit crazy, I mean. Am I right, or am I right?

Okay, maybe batshit crazy seems a bit harsh. How does "power-hungry bully who is completely inconsistent and unpredictable while remaining hyper-focused on minutiae inconsequential to learning" sound? Yeah, batshit crazy does sound better.

But I know batshit crazy. I come from a long and distinguished line of batshit crazy. Not only am I an expert in recognizing batshit crazy, I have honed my skills in playing with batshit crazy. I guarantee that I can out-play, out-wit, and out-last your batshit crazy any day of the week. So, you wanna dance? Let's dance. 

Your move: Big Dude finishes his work, and pulls a book out of his desk to read (as per your plan concocted during previously mentioned conference). He finishes this book before everyone is done with his work, asks you if he can get another book from his locker, and you make him "pull a card" because he should have planned ahead and had a book already in his desk if he was almost done with the other one.

Counter move: Really?? He should be psychic and be able to predict how long its going to take the other students to finish their work, as correlated against how fast he's going to read the remainder of the book in his desk (because as a psychic, he would know how many words are left in the book as well as his average words per minute reading speed)?? Ok. When you come to school and find a pile of 26 books stacked around his desk, I'm sure you will ask him what they are doing there and I have instructed him to assure you that he is doing exactly as you wished. Planning ahead. So that he is NEVER caught without proper reading material at his desk again.

Your move: You tell the Big Dude and the other students that they aren't allowed to have books in their desk to read because they should be "using their time more wisely" by finishing homework or doing other school work, even when they are done with their other work.

Counter move: You know what? Fuck it. Go ahead and chat it right up. 

Your move: You hold Big Dude's lunchbox hostage, telling him you will return it to him when he writes a paper about how you are his favorite teacher and submits this paper to the "voluntary participation" PTA Favorite Teacher contest where the teacher who gets the most submissions wins something from the PTA.

Counter move: Write that paper. Write away. But since honesty is very important to us in this family, make sure you tell the truth. Somehow I don't think the content of this paper is going to be what you are hoping for. Because the first line of this paper will be "I am being forced to write this paper about a teacher who is, in fact, NOT my favorite teacher because its the only way I can get her to return my personal property to me." This will be followed by a lengthy Anti-Bullying PSA diatribe.

Your move: While serving the punishment of classroom lunch for a previous offense, Big Dude witnessed a co-serving peer spill at his desk, and receive permission to get a paper towel to clean it up. When Big Dude spilled some water on his desk and raised his hand to ask for permission to get a paper towel, you instructed him to "Put your hand down and sit down. This is my lunch too, you know."

Counter move: Really? Really?!? Ok. Next time you spill something or there is a mess to clean up, say out loud in a voice that is crystal clear, "Excuse me Dude Who Happens To Be Class Pet Through No Fault Of His Own, would you please ask Mrs. Big-Dude's-Teacher if you can get a paper towel for me, since she will allow you to do things that I am not allowed to do?" See, batshit crazy also has a healthy dose of experience with fucked up passive aggressive. Boo-yah!

Your move: You decide that one of Big Dude's infractions is significant enough to notify me about, but apparently not until the next day, when Big Dude arrives in the classroom in the morning to find an index card with the supposed infraction written in clear bold letters taped face up in the middle of his desk, for the entire classroom to see as they enter the class. Big Dude is supposed to bring this card home to me and have me sign it as proof that he has made his parents aware of his egregious behavior.

Counter move: I am pre-signing an entire package of blank index cards and sending them in to school with Big Dude tomorrow. From now on when there is an infraction that is "parent sign the card" worthy, just write it on the back of one of the pre-signed cards and place it directly in your "Big Dude Bad Behavior" file. Because like the boy who cried wolf, you have seriously over-played your hand. I no longer care when Big Dude has to "pull a card" because when you decide that a kid who trips over another student's chair and accidentally spills something deserves to pull a card for this clear violation of appropriate classroom behavior, I can not take you or your behavioral expectations and standards seriously.

When I was a child my son's age, my father taught me a lesson that I have never forgotten. This lesson has served me well throughout my life and I am optimistic that it can do the same for Big Dude. It is this. "You are going to encounter assholes your whole life. The earlier you learn how to deal with them the better off you will be." What I learned from my father is that sometimes you have to counter batshit crazy with batshit crazy. And a healthy dose of passive aggressive with a side dose of cynical sarcasm can give you just the edge you need to come out on top. 

Sincerely,
Big Dude's passive aggressive batshit crazy cynically sarcastic mother who LOOOOVES to dance 

Sunday, February 10, 2013

I Love My Friends!!

I have the best friends! I really do. I have friends I have known since I was 2 years old, and friends I have only known for 6 months, and I must say I feel really blessed to have so many wonderful people to call "friends". As with most people, my friends tend to fall into categories. There's the old friends, like from childhood. There's the good friends, from a particular period or experience. There's the close friends, like a friendship safety net. There's the new friends, with new experiences (and debauchery) to be shared. And there's the family/friends, who just like family, will always be there (whether you want them to or not, because they know too much and most likely can't be trusted to use that information for good and not evil)

The old friends I knew as a kid are the ones I may not have seen in decades. The ones who were there with me when I did all those stupid and embarrassing things that I pray to God don't show up in pictures on Facebook, and yet are the ones who will inevitably post all the pictures on Facebook. They are the ones who were right beside me wearing those awful 70's outfits that our parents put us in. The ones who knew me during my "wonder years" of bad perms, thick Coke-bottle glasses, braces, and teenage acne. These are the friends who might have a preconceived notion of who I am now as an adult based on all the annoying things I may have done as a young kid. Some of these friends may have seen me getting dragged up the T bar lift by my dangling ski because obviously sitting is the logical thing to do on a T shaped piece of wood nestled against my butt! Some of these friends might have been with me when my boat ran out of gas in the faaaaaaarthest corner of the lake from home. These friends might even have been good enough friends to listen to me when I said "Hey, you jump in and push - kick really hard -  while I get in and pull it with the ski tow rope, and you two just paddle like hell!" You just can't buy that kind of loyalty. Really. Sometimes these friends won't let you live down a foolish childhood mistake. Like hypothetically taking a vocabulary test you haven't studied for and upon seeing the word "satire" you, hypothetically, write down "a large mythical beast with a bad temper" because you are assuming its a typo and the teacher really meant to write "satyr". Hypothetically.

Then there are the good friends I have met along the way, the ones I have picked up in my many, MANY travels - I've had 17 addresses since college! These are the friends that I might lose touch with but carry so many wonderful memories of, the friends who bring me back to a specific time in my life. They probably haven't met my husband or kids, and I probably haven't seen them in years. I'm sure if I happened to get together with any of them, it would be just like old times but there would also be a learning curve.  Because these friends knew me during a certain period in my life, and only for a small fraction of time, and people change and grow up and mature. So getting to know these friends all over again would be one of the most awesomest things I can imagine. But I think at this age I would hope that these friends would not necessarily be running naked through car washes any more. Or sneaking through the back woods of North Carolina trying to find a double wide trailer that sells mason jars of moonshine in 26 flavors. Hypothetically speaking. Or the ones who become your saving grace when you are living somewhere akin to "the worst place EVER", because they can make you spew Diet coke out of your nose by casually discussing smegma over lunch. These are the friends I am probably thinking about when I randomly burst out laughing at things that remind me of them, like references to the office copy machine guy on SNL played by Rob Schneider (Steve-o, The Steve-inator, Baron Von Steve-ster), or when someone tells me a story about trying to set up 2 friends and I instantly think about deaf mutes. It's these shared experiences that connect me to these friends in ways that cannot be undone, regardless of the passage of time, and for that I am so grateful.

There are also the close friends I have met along the way, who I have remained in close and fairly regular contact with, whose kids are friends with my kids long distance, the ones who invite me to their kids' weddings, birthdays, graduations, etc. and even if I haven't seen them in a year or more, it's like putting on a comfortable pair of slippers. These friends understand how tough it can be to relocate every few years, and they know how to make the most of 4 years of friendship. They can make that 4 years stretch out into a lifetime, and even if I never see them in person again, the phone calls, Christmas cards, and Facebook messages somehow manage to sustain that friendship just like I was still living down the street. These are the friends that I can go years without seeing but who can easily make me laugh until I cry, or hypothetically pee myself, in a phone conversation that can often go on for 2+ hours. They may not be able to "be there for me" in person now, but there isn't anything we wouldn't have done for each other when geography wasn't in the way. These are the friends who will drive over at 10:30 pm to help you out when you have fallen down a flight of stairs, because your other friend (who, hypothetically, lives only 2 houses away) has ignored your desperate phone call for help (you know who you are!!!).  These are the ones who won't "judge" if your kid, hypothetically, takes a dump on the side of the road while visiting their house because the walk across the yard back to the house and inside to the bathroom was "too long". And this is the friend who jumps in the car on a moments notice to come and sit through the night with you for 6 hours to cry with you and hold your hand during a family emergency. The one that you would do the exact same thing for even if it's been more than 2 years since you've seen each other. 

I am also lucky enough to have new friends, friends I am still getting to know and who are still getting to know me, but who already know me well enough to know about my inherent shyness, introversion, abhorrence of sarcasm, and fear of confrontation, and STILL want to be my friend anyway. The people I look forward to creating memories with and hopefully someday soon, being able to call my close friends. These are the friends who will do anything they can to help out when you are living in a hotel for 6 weeks with 3 kids and a dog in a brand new city in a brand new state. The ones who are willing to invite you over and introduce you to their circle of friends, who make you feel "part" of something for the first time in a new place. Its their faces you look for in a crowd because its always reassuring to know at least ONE person when you are walking into a new and unknown situation. They don't realize it, but something as simple as saying hello and chatting at a kid's football game, or asking how a parent/teacher conference went can mean the world when you are the new family in town, especially if said parent/teacher conference didn't exactly go "as planned" and you now have to prepare to kick some major ass when you get home. These are the people who have all the good inside information (which teachers to avoid, which sports team parents are the drama stir-ers, which pediatrician/dentist/ER/urgent care clinic/salon/etc is the best or worst, where to get the best pizza/mexican/italian/chinese/etc food in town....) and are willing to share it! Every friend starts out as a new friend and it is my every hope that they will become my close friends as time goes by.

With family/friends, the line between "family" and "friend" becomes hazy or non-existent. The bond that is shared between these friends is as strong as any family bond I have ever seen. These friends know me better than I know myself. They can tell me what I don't want to hear and know that I'm gonna be pissed as hell at them for calling me out on my shit, but that I'll be over it soon and will eventually thank them for it. These are the friends I can share my deepest secrets, fears, insecurities, failures, anxieties, and sadness with. And these are the people I call first to share in my joys, victories, successes, happiness, and laughter with. These are the people I can just share a "look" with, and they know to go along with me as I tell all the kids about the ever elusive goat-salmon hybrid fish - called the salmoat, but pronounced "smote" - that I'm pretty sure just washed up on the shore of the lake. They just know not to question, to go along with it, and if possible to offer their own bizarre contributions. These are the people who know without a doubt, no matter how pissed off I get at them, they should NOT under any circumstances EVER let me start a bonfire when I have been drinking. Again. Because I like my eyebrows just the way they have grown back in. These are the ones who will go to bat for you, even when they know they are on the losing side. Its these friends who will circle the wagons around you and protect you like a mama grizzly against anyone who hurts you. And its these friends whose new spouses are informed in no uncertain terms that you better treat my friend well because if you ever hurt her you will have to deal with me. Its not like I have ever whispered those exact same words to one (or several) of them as I hugged them in the receiving line at their wedding. Because that might be crossing the line. So I definitely didn't do that. 

Regardless of what category a friend might fall into, I am very grateful for all of my friends. I am lucky that I get to make new memories with so many old friends who have chosen to stay in touch and maintain an active friendship. I am lucky to live someplace where people are so open and welcoming to new friends. We don't often take the time to tell everyone how important they are to us, or how much we appreciate them. This is more true with people or friends from the past. There are a lot of people who have touched my life in a very real and significant way but maybe for only a short period of time. Regardless of the length of time or the category of friendship, I want to thank everyone who has touched my life with their friendship. I really do have the best friends.