The kids and I had been weathering life without the assistance of the man they call Dad. He left Tuesday afternoon for a short little visit to Denver. We know this trip is coming up at this time every year (which again, why I have two, count them two children who had due dates during this week…….I can only shake my head at my poor planning.) It is INS time the first week of February, like clockwork, but still it sneaks up on me. And as much I as know this is something that he has to go to, something that our livelihood depends on and something that keeps him in the know of all things neurological – I can’t help but feel just a little bit irritated at him for going. Truth be told, if I were to trade places with him, I think I would be miserable. And even though I give him grief about getting to stay in a hotel room and not clean up after our child menagerie, I know that he was sleeping in a room with 2 other guys who have also been sleep deprived, keep crazy hours and probably suffer from travel induced congestion and a few extra pounds put on over the high stress years of grad school (whole lot of snoring going on in there!) I have decided to just accept the things I cannot change.
Anyway, I thought that I had this single parent thing down pretty well. Not that Brandon skips out on us often, but he definitely keeps late hours and being the stay at home parent, I take my job as caretaker #1 pretty seriously. I know that in a pinch, Brandon would step up to whatever parenting task was asked of him. But I also know that he works very hard at his job, something that we both made sacrifices to get him to and he’s kinda representing both of us while he’s at it. Because of this, I want him to be able to focus on that and not have to worry about lunch making or if the uniforms are ironed. Lunches are made by the way, the kids will eat today but no, I have no intentions of ironing at all this week. That being said, I figured this past week wouldn’t be that big of a deal. The kids and I would continue on as usual, and other than my having to be extra on top of things in the morning and Lila not getting to sleep in, we would be fine. The kids seemed fine, too. They were excited for Dad to go on an adventure and were intrigued by the thought of what sort of wonderful souvenirs he would be bringing back.
At least, this is the impression that they gave me Tuesday morning before he actually left.
Then Tuesday afternoon arrived.
Reese wowed me when I picked him up from school and I learned that he had managed a good hearty serving, or two or three, of frowney faces. Frowney faces are a big deal in most kindergarten classrooms. Their language is spoken universally and even though your kindergartener’s democracy might not be set up quite the same way, trust me, they know what a frowney face implies. And any of you fellow kindergarten teachers out there who might be reading this, you also know just how grave of a situation a triple frowney face day would be. I won’t go in to the details of my son’s crimes, but let me tell you, he is a crafty young man. And his wheel house of lawlessness is more in the realm of mental/ emotional, which makes finding a punishment to fit the crime a little tricky. It also doesn’t help when some of his atrocities are slightly entertaining and you find yourself almost wanting to let him continue just to see how they are going to play out. For example, Reese has begun telling stories. Some would refer to these as lies, because they are not true…..and that would be correct, but they are also just stories that he tells and sometimes leaves openings, lose end if you will, so that the listener can interpret them in a false was even though he didn’t necessarily state the falsehood directly. This particular story isn’t one of those and is a complete lie:
tBrandon went to Denver for the International Neurological Society’s annual meeting of the minds. Reese told him class that Brandon was going to check out Peyton Manning’s brain now that the off-season was here. Entertaining, kinda makes you smile, and say wow that a little kindergartener is putting all that together – Denver, Broncos, Peyton Manning and Daddy is out there for a brain thing…..even knowing that it’s the off-season. But it’s still a lie.
There were some other infractions that were far less ha ha, however, and Mama was not happy with the boy.
Then, later that afternoon, Lila almost got kicked out of dance class for being a very poor listener and encouraging the rest of the class to join in her delinquency. Again, I am a little, tiny bit proud of my barely 3-year-old and her power of persuasion over a class of 4 year olds, but still this is not the kind of behaviour that our family supports.
It seemed as though even though my children appeared perfectly fine on the outside, the absence of their father might be having a larger effect than I had anticipated.
After having a stern talking to and losing the privilege of watching Sports Center that night, I really thought we would be on the road to recovery with Reese.
Our week finally ended with Reese losing all basketball related privileges for the next seven days and was topped off with Mattie causing a melee in the Chick-Fil-A play place. We will not get into that one at all because it has taken its emotional toll on all of us. It has also led me to consider cracking open those very generous Christmas gifts of “spirits” that Brandon was given and we don’t know what to do with. My children have already gone down the slippery slope to a life of criminality and corruption, I may as well take up a new hobby as well. See if Brandon ever leaves us alone again!
But on Saturday afternoon, after we had been to church and all guilty parties had asked forgiveness for their transgressions – Daddy’s plane came in. Oh Happy Day! Life could get back to normal again and just in time for Sunday when we really needed all to be right in our world because……….
Sunday was our school Spelling Bee.
If you aren’t aware of this, Spelling Bees are a big deal in a kids life. Turns out they are also highly stressful in a parent’s life as well and I do not recommend them to anyone. This is an event that takes conditioning, much like a marathon or maybe trying out for American Ninja Warrior. They do not just throw you into a spelling Bee as a new parent. And if you have adopted your children as preschoolers, I would consider getting just a few more seasons under your belt before you tackled this particular arena of parenting. The stress, the sting of defeat (not just for your own child but for ALL of them – I have not witnessed in real life something quite as devastating, something that made me feel like a voyeur to someone else’s most private pain, a sadist, as watching those children misspell a word and then having to turn their placard around indicating that they were out. Then sitting there in silence, still on the stage having to fight their emotions in full view of their peers and parents until it was all over!) that’s HARD! You think sleep training your baby is hard? Having to sit there while they “cry it out”? That’s a happy day at the park compared to Spelling Bees. If shots at the doctor make you feel bad, then don’t even think about darkening the doorways of a Spelling Bee. You are too weak.
At any point, I was half expecting to hear a voice from the audience plead in agony, “Please just make it stop!” I don’t think it would have surprised any of us and I think we would all have been a little grateful. On a side note, I did hear a lot of audience member “spelling” of the words, particularly from one mother a few rows behind me and I wouldn’t be surprised at all to find out later today that she was confronted in the parking lot after the “Bee”. Not cool Mama, not cool.
Reese came in 2nd in his Kindergarten division. He kept up a good fight, volleying with the eventual champion for what seemed like an eternity. He was beat by a little asian girl, which really, we all knew she would win anyway. Reese has more of a pedigree for……well, he has a whole mixed bag of tricks with his mixed bag of genetics, but sadly, there is no asian in there. And not to be stereotypical or anything, but I have yet to meet a little asian girl who wasn’t a bit of an intellectual wonder. He thankfully, seemed rather content with his red ribbon. “I like red, it’s the 49ers color.” he said after receiving his prize at the end of the day. Way to find the silver lining, buddy?
The kindergarten atmosphere was a little more relaxed, but still remarkably tense
Mattie on the other hand………….she was a finalist in her grade level, which meant that she was pretty stoked at lunch time. They had the classroom preliminaries before lunch and she and her fellow finalist were kicking those words out like no body’s business. She felt good, she felt hyped, to say she was confident in her challenge would be an understatement. This looked like the year, the event that she might finally bring the blue home. I think Brandon and I were feeling a little confident, too. Not so much for a win, but that we would at least take home a semi-happy girl when the day was over.
The preliminaries, back when things were still happy and sunny
The kids walked out, silently, their little placards around their necks stating their # and grade level. It seemed so official, so sterile – you were almost afraid to photograph them. They were tense, but hopeful – and then the first little girl bombed her first word. The collective gasp of the audience, as we sat there in otherwise silence, watching as this tiny little girl flipped her card around. It was obvious she didn’t quite understand what had happened, but was still dejected. I think that’s when it really sunk in to us parents that we were about to be witnesses to the orthography edition of The Hunger Games.
Tensions were high, but there was still an air of happiness and excitement
Mattie’s word was avoid. She knew this, but I knew even before she stood up that is wasn’t going to end well. Mattie is a tiny girl, but standing there she looked even smaller. Brandon whispered for me to start recording her with my phone, but I instead put it back in my purse. I knew
And I didn’t want there to be any evidence of it later for her to look back on. Not that we were going to pretend it never happened, but who needs to see the video of themselves bombing the school spelling bee? That just seems unnecessary to me.
“A….pause…no, O (mother is cringing at this point now) void. Avoid”. And then there was that gasp, and she knew and she looked at me and I couldn’t do anything, not even hide the disappointment in my eyes. Not disappointment at her, but for her. And not even because she had misspelled a word, but because she had disappointed herself and I knew she wanted nothing more than to cry and she couldn’t. And all she could do was turn around and sit back in her metal folding chair, turn her card around and wait. I tried not to make eye contact with her anymore because every time I did, you could actually see those little eyes well up again. One by one, the others got out, each time almost worse than the one before because they had gone so far just to be shot down. Each child, dealt with their loss stoically, and each one wore the same mask of despair – the flushed cheeks and full eyes. Trying their best to appear brave and like it didn’t really matter, but clearly upset at themselves on the inside.
And then it was over. A winner was declared and we, the audience stood and cheered with much enthusiasm. We were thankful that it was over and thankful that someone would be coming out of this massacre still holding their head high. Parents rushed their children, anxious to begin nursing their wounded, and that’s when I noticed something pretty incredible – no big scenes were made. I think one little girl did a little crying buried in the chest of her mama, but other than that…they all walked away with heads held high, accepting their defeat with dignity and grace.
Getting her award for placing 2nd in her grade level
Reese was like the flash getting his ribbon the first time, I don’t think Brandon or I actually saw it happen – so this is a re-inactment, that is still fuzzy.
When we were finally at home, in private and sorting the dirty laundry from the previous week, Mattie had her little breakdown. I listened and patted, and listened some more. I wished at the moment for my parenting play book, my “Friday Nights Lights” script of just what to say to make your kid feel better about the situation, but to also accept losing and that not everyone is the winner all the time.
It never showed up.
So I had to wing it.
As Mattie had gathered up her collection of red ribbons, ready to take them out to the trash, I pried them out of her hands and we looked at each one and what she had done to earn each of them. She pointed out each time that she didn’t win. And I did my best to sincerely tell her that sometimes a bag full of seconds is way better than a single blue. A bag full of seconds says that though you might not be the champion, you do pretty good. You are a force to be reckoned with and by the looks of that ribbon bag, her range of skills is pretty reaching. Personally, I think it’s a little bit better to be pretty good at several things, than to be a master of just one. And not only that, sometimes the biggest contest/ race, competition is how you handle the results. Things may have gone a little out there after that, trying to tell my 10-year-old that life is like a spelling bee and there are always going to be people who you feel like got way easier words than you and had you had that particular word, you wouldn’t have got out….blah, blah, blah….And we all make simple mistakes that we wouldn’t make again…..blah blah…….But I think I had lost her by that point.
I think she got my point though, and she agreed to go back to school today and didn’t break anything around the house in a fit of rage so I think I did okay. It was painful, dreadfully agonizing, but I think that Spelling Bee was good for all of us yesterday. Our kids do need to understand that even if they try their hardest, things sometimes fall apart. And throwing a fit won’t fix anything. And as they sat up there, a group of losers, they realized that they weren’t the only ones feeling bad about themselves. They were in good company and you saw them reach out and pat the knee of their compadre to give a little “I feel ya” comfort to each other. Some of the most dreadful events in life end up being the ones that bring us the closest and teach us the biggest lessons. They worked hard to get there, they did their best, and there could only be one winner. That’s life.
And they lived
And we parents, I think we all were taught a huge lesson, watching our children slay those lexemes , completely independent of us. For some of us, it was one of the first times we had intentionally set them up for failure, and public failure at that. But they lived. And we lived and they were still wonderful and perfect to us, even if they weren’t the champions. Not everyone got a ribbon, and they lived. The winner got a free week of summer camp and a gold medal to wear for the rest of the year until the next Spelling Bee, and the rest of them didn’t…..but they lived.
A high school Junior lost to a 4th grader – but he lived.
This was a very trying week for this Mama, but I lived. I did not win, oh no, I went down in flames this week by a landslide, but I lived. And maybe I even learned a thing or two. I stayed in the fight, I stood my ground, and we lived to welcome another week. Some weeks, that’s really saying something.
Mama Tried 