My beautiful friend T Rex Mom gave me one of my favourite compliments a few posts ago. She said: I am still trying to figure out how you write about your tough childhood and yet it does not come off sounding like a "poor me" attitude or ever complaining. You do a beautiful job…
Good lord! I’m so grateful that people take the time to read what I have to say but to get me on this level, well that speaks to my writery soul.
The thing is I could sit here and tell you about the magical moments till the cows come home, I’m a bit on the poetic side in case you hadn’t noticed; I can spin most things into a Hallmark moment if I put my mind to it. But that doesn’t always feed us as humans, does it? I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that some days I don’t see the beauty. Some days I feel sorry for myself even though I know I have it better than so many people in this world. Some days I can’t crawl out of the pit I’ve fallen into without some major help.
This weekend I was knocked off my well-adjusted high horse. I was sitting there feeling all self-sufficient, like finally I’d gotten my hands on the reigns and had figured out how to drive this old gal called My Life when Deaglan’s report card threw me into a ditch full of quick sand.
Our four-year old is enrolled in all day kindergarten, a test program for our province where kids his age go to school the full day everyday just like first graders. I’ll be honest, before we even read about the curriculum, when we found out that our daycare bill would be cut by five hundred bucks a month, we were all sign us up yo!
But little things keep creeping up, making me question the value of the program. Like the five pages of homework our small boy is required to complete each weekend, the pressure we feel to get him reading ASAP, and the thing that set me loose in CrazyTown a few days ago - the early identification form they sent with his report card listing two areas they’d identified as problematic, an implication that our recently turned four year-old is not meeting their development schedule.
I don’t want to spell it out for you, I’m sure you get it but I.WENT.NUTS.
And it was the weekend so there was nobody to strangle. Only Shaune and me plotting those teachers’ demises for making this first year of school stressful, for introducing the notion that there might me something not absolutely perfect about our child, for daring to suggest that we could be doing something wrong.
I spoke to the principal yesterday and she was able to sedate me. She apologized on behalf of his teachers, felt strongly that they should have explained what this form was ahead of time but that’s not the point I’m trying to make. The point is, I realized how fleeting my sense of security sometimes is. That being human isn’t about reaching a stage of actualized growth and staying there in a bliss of constant.
Nope. It's getting somewhere and accepting that you might not be staying long.
An old picture of Deaglan but in my heart this is how he still looks.