As I mentioned before, I think parenting is hard. My oldest son is now in grade 3 and sometimes he proves to be very challenging as he likes to fib and procrastinate. He'll say and do anything to try to get out of his responsibilities. He likes being the martyr. I find myself thinking "where does this come from?." I found my answer after digging deep in my memory vaults.
When I was about 4 (I think?), I talked nastily back to my mother. Her friend said to me "Don't talk to your mother like that." I was pissed. How dare YOU tell ME how to talk to MY mother?? The bitch. She was leaving and I knew she'd be back later. I went outside, turned on the garden hose and proceeded to wet down the sidewalk. My mom stuck her head out the door and asked what I was doing. I simply stated "Wetting the sidewalk so when Mrs. Long comes back she'll slip and break her leg." Vindictive? Who me? My mom gave me a tea towel and told me to clean it up. I remember crying while sopping up the unaffected sidewalk. I don't remember what exactly I did after that, but I do remember explaining to my mom when asked that I got the idea from Sesame Street. I know, you're like - WHAT?!? Sesame Street had a character much like Mr. Noodle that I remember would be trying to use a garden hose and would be spraying water everywhere and then of course he would slip in it and break his leg. When Mrs. Long came back and was told the drama, my mom told me she said, "I guess I deserved that!" She also told me years later that while I was mopping up the sidewalk, she was in her room with the door closed laughing her head off.
In grade 1, I didn't like school. I found it boring, full of rules and generally no fun. I hated it so much! So, at the end of recess one day, I decided that if I got 'hurt' I would get out of class for the rest of the day. I DID get out of class, but only after I placed my left pointer finger against the brick wall and opened the heavy outer door hard enough to hit it. My plan worked so well, I actually damaged my finger enough to lose my whole finger nail. Damn! Why did I do that again? Oh yeah, I wanted out of class for the day. Do my parents know? I told them years later.
The more and more I think about my early childhood, the more I realize I was bossy, vindictive and oh-so dramatic. Lucky for me, I ran into a teacher in grade 5 who I was sure hated me. She was sarcastic - something I had never run into before - and would make fun of me and others in the class. SHE WAS OUT TO GET ME. I lost a lot of self-confidence that school year. My grades suffered. It was so bad, the minute I would wake up, I'd start crying that I had to go to school. My parents would mention it in parent/teacher interviews and get the response - "I have no problems with her." I got through the school year, but my self-image was beaten down. The start of the next school year, I was excited until I discovered that teacher had moved up a grade and I was in her class again that year. I came home bawling and my parents moved me to another teachers class. I thank them everyday for doing that. I also thank my grade 5 teacher. In destroying my hubristic tendencies, she took part in creating the person I am today.
What have I learned from this trip to the deep, dank places of my memory? My son has a long way to go to compete with me. I was way more creative, crafty and reckless in my attempts to get out of things I didn't want to do than he has presented thus far.
I also have 2 other mini-mes who may out-do me.
Now, where did I place that tried and true parenting book again? Oh, right. There isn't one.
No comments:
Post a Comment