Loose reins

I seem to only talk about my house and parenting around here anymore. Perhaps that's because I'm bored with my health/weight/nostalgia issues (as I'm sure you are). Or maybe, it's because that's my life - parenting and house stuff. I'm not complaining. In fact, I'm rather surprised at how fulfilling the day to day minutia actually are.

Today the little barn and shed are getting painted "Crabby Apple" red. It's a perfect barn red, plenty red with just enough of a touch of brown to make it kind to early-morning eyes. I love it so much I want to paint my whole house, inside and out, that color. I will refrain, of course, because I know I would grow tired of it and chances are, we'd find out that nothing says "pee on me" to our psycho cat, Mulder, quite like Crabby Apple red paint.

I'm not going to promise that whatever the next iteration of the exterior of this house turns out to be won't include several buckets of Crabby Apple. Luckily, the dog and I are sick of random people going in and out of the yard and I can't see either of us taking on a massive DIY siding project, so I think our bank account (and my husband's general aversion to change) are in the clear.

Oh yeah... loose reins! This is the part of the post where I say something about how my kids are smarter/cooler/awesomer/talented-er than I am. Because it's true. And isn't that kind of the goal? I hope so, or I'm screwed. Mr. K and I both agree that we were far too overbearing (although our intentions were good, we swear!) in our early parenting with C. While we were trying to support her, nurture her, help her, and set her up for success I think much of the result of our overwhelming focus has been to leave her feeling like she can't trust only her judgment - like she needs our approval before she can feel like a success. The other nasty realization we (especially I) had to come to was that more of my need for her succeed had to do with my own feelings of success than I care to admit to AND by over-involving ourselves in her success, we contributed to a less-than-helpful perfectionist tendency.

That's why it's so great (and undoubtedly, THE REASON) that music has become her great passion. She knows Mom and Dad are both pretty worthless at music (although I fancy myself a closet singing sensation because this one time when I was a teenager I was good at singing until that bitch Andrea Whitlock messed it up for me - but enough about my own failings...) and that she's definitely driving this bus (well, actually, the only thing I really do contribute is a butt numbing amount of bus driving but that's beside the point). Plus, music (at least orchestral music) is all about perfection... 90% "right" sounds like far less than 90% but even moments of 100% are transcendent.

This week was parent-teacher conference week for R and A, the week that always tests my resolve in our "loosening of the reins" view of parenting with those two. I have to steel myself for the inevitable "he needs to work on organization and his math facts are slow" or "she takes her time... sometimes too much time and her brain works always seems to be a few steps ahead of her writing and verbal ability" and what I perceive as a look of "so what are you going to do it about it, Mom" I get from the teachers. My canned response is to acknowledge the observed behavior, briefly discuss whether or not I have observed the same thing, and say something along the lines of "please continue to reinforce him/her the appropriate consequence in your classroom, give him/her the grade he/she truly deserves, and don't hesitate to contact me if he/she becomes disruptive or is in danger of falling seriously behind." They're always a little taken aback - it must be strange to have this parent of relatively high achieving (and you know... GIFTED) kids say "good luck with that, and please don't give him/her an A if it isn't deserved" instead of begging for a workbook recommendation or a second chance or a chance to retake test A or resubmit project B. It's elementary school, y'all... and if el kiddo gets a high enough score on the ubersmart ID test, he/she will forever be labeled as "kid who may be too smart for your own good, Ms./Mr. Teacher" so when the time comes when he/she may be ready to take advantage of enrichment opportunities or when he/she may show signs of trouble in school he/she will be eligible for additional resources, I see no reason to involve myself in his/her academic aspirations. Before you decide that my view is based solely on laziness (there's definitely an aspect of that because holy hell, am I ever tired of middle school math homework... been there, done that, no need to rinse and repeat), know that Mr. K and I make ourselves infinitely available to answer specific questions about homework, projects, and assignments and that Mr. K is a champion bedtime story reader (and all 3 kids have the vocabulary to prove it). The result? R and A don't always get as high grades/scores as C did in elementary school - and every last dotted (or undotted) i, timed math test, and writing assignment is the result of the work they chose to put into it.

Before you worry too much about C, though, understand that we are doing what we can to right our wrongs with C. She's becoming progressively more independent and has certainly taken the music thing by the horns. It's clear, however, that lumping a childhood's worth of opportunities for independent success and failure on top of the already gut-wrenching challenges of middle school is probably not the easiest path to take.

This picture is kind of an unrelated afterthought but oh my, I do love that tree!