Our contribution to society
I wonder. Are we making a positive contribution to society by raising kids? After another bedtime meltdown, I despair of them ever making it out there on their own. How will they find a fulltime job, performing complex duties and requiring critical thinking skills, when they can't even remember to throw their clothes in the laundry after a shower? Or find their shoes in the morning for school? Or clean off the table after a meal? It boggles the mind.
I think they have possibilities; I can see they're special and unique, but then, I'm their mother. I'm not sure what other adults are thinking, especially after getting yet another email from Sport's teacher. "I have to ask ... Did Sport live in Germany, go to school on a bus, get involved in a roll-over bus accident?" I assured her that we'd never been to Germany and he'd never been involved in a roll-over accident, although there are times he distracts me with his endless questions and I want to crash the van to stop him from talking.
Sport's latest obsession is favorites. He could go on for hours, asking: What is your favorite _______? (color, animal, professional football team, planet, food, number, teacher, president, drink, restaurant, book, fish, car dealership, insult, knock-knock joke, movie). The list goes on and on.
When I've finally had enough, cranking up the radio to drown him out, it's LegoGuy's turn.
"On this episode of the Simpson's, Bart did this thing, and Homer ate something, and Lisa was involved in saving this whatever, and..." You get the picture. I usually zone out as he rambles on, reciting the storyline in a monotone, interspersed with "likes" and "uhhs." All the while, I'm panicking at some deeper level because I know there are kids out there like SGK who are delving into the geography of Africa or learning the causes of WWII, while my children are studying the plots of a subversive cartoon sitcom in which the main character is a sarcastic, disrespectful brat.
Not that I was any kind of superstar as a child. I swore off Saturday morning cartoons when I turned 12, but I didn't do it because they bored me. I did it out of some misguided belief that I was superior to my brother and sisters and watching cartoons was beneath me. I used to doodle in class, ignoring the teacher, sketching out my dream for the future: a cat ranch. Yes, since there are so few cats in the world, I figured I'd be the owner of a ranch full of cats, breeding and selling them to an enthusiastic public. As I got older, and realized that cats might not sell so well, and changed my goal slightly. I would have a horse ranch, raising thoroughbreds in the Kentucky hills.
I'd read a book during math, hiding it behind my thick textbook. Mr. Cuellar, my 4th grade teacher, caught me and slammed his paddle onto the desk. (I'm not kidding. He carried a paddle around to traumatize the class, bringing it down on the lower back of a doozing child in the most painful of wake-up calls.)
"What do you think you are doing?"
"Reading," I whispered.
"Well, you just keep right on reading, little missy." His eyes were narrow. Beady. The paddle was poised for punishment in his beefy hand."It's obvious that math isn't your thing."
I suppose he had doubts I'd add much to society.
SO and I have doubts about our two boys, but we have lots of hope as well. Hope that they'll always try to do the right thing, no matter how difficult. Hope that they'll do no harm. Hope that they'll walk through their lives focusing on what really matters, rather than focusing on what is the most fun. Hope that we can communicate to them the message Eeyore is trying to communicate to his girls:
"We weren't put on this earth to be happy. We were put here to do great things."
-- Boris Pasternak
Sport's latest obsession is favorites. He could go on for hours, asking: What is your favorite _______? (color, animal, professional football team, planet, food, number, teacher, president, drink, restaurant, book, fish, car dealership, insult, knock-knock joke, movie). The list goes on and on.
When I've finally had enough, cranking up the radio to drown him out, it's LegoGuy's turn.
"On this episode of the Simpson's, Bart did this thing, and Homer ate something, and Lisa was involved in saving this whatever, and..." You get the picture. I usually zone out as he rambles on, reciting the storyline in a monotone, interspersed with "likes" and "uhhs." All the while, I'm panicking at some deeper level because I know there are kids out there like SGK who are delving into the geography of Africa or learning the causes of WWII, while my children are studying the plots of a subversive cartoon sitcom in which the main character is a sarcastic, disrespectful brat.
Not that I was any kind of superstar as a child. I swore off Saturday morning cartoons when I turned 12, but I didn't do it because they bored me. I did it out of some misguided belief that I was superior to my brother and sisters and watching cartoons was beneath me. I used to doodle in class, ignoring the teacher, sketching out my dream for the future: a cat ranch. Yes, since there are so few cats in the world, I figured I'd be the owner of a ranch full of cats, breeding and selling them to an enthusiastic public. As I got older, and realized that cats might not sell so well, and changed my goal slightly. I would have a horse ranch, raising thoroughbreds in the Kentucky hills.
I'd read a book during math, hiding it behind my thick textbook. Mr. Cuellar, my 4th grade teacher, caught me and slammed his paddle onto the desk. (I'm not kidding. He carried a paddle around to traumatize the class, bringing it down on the lower back of a doozing child in the most painful of wake-up calls.)
"What do you think you are doing?"
"Reading," I whispered.
"Well, you just keep right on reading, little missy." His eyes were narrow. Beady. The paddle was poised for punishment in his beefy hand."It's obvious that math isn't your thing."
I suppose he had doubts I'd add much to society.
SO and I have doubts about our two boys, but we have lots of hope as well. Hope that they'll always try to do the right thing, no matter how difficult. Hope that they'll do no harm. Hope that they'll walk through their lives focusing on what really matters, rather than focusing on what is the most fun. Hope that we can communicate to them the message Eeyore is trying to communicate to his girls:
"We weren't put on this earth to be happy. We were put here to do great things."
-- Boris Pasternak
3 comments:
It's gonna be ok. It's hard to have faith when you're in the midst of it. I was so discouraged that Techie-nerd son was so into The Simpsons, which I found a little frightening for same reasons you mention. And let's not even discuss Pee-Wee Herman, which, in his defense, he said recently, "I just didn't get all that innuendo then. No wonder you gave me a hard time about that show." He loved the "Life in Hell" comics in the Gazette when he was 8, for Pete's sake! Music-nerd son never did a lick of work around the house that he wasn't threatened into--especially in his own room--I gave that one up. Now that he (ahem) lives with his girlfriend, I see hope--he vacuums, cooks, shops, clears the table, etc., etc. I promise all your hard work will pay off--someday. Maybe all our boys will work for SGK when she rules the world.
Very pretty design! Keep up the good work. Thanks.
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Nice idea with this site its better than most of the rubbish I come across.
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