There are two boys home doing ‘remote’ learning this year. Here they are, in my house four of the five school days. Their dad takes one day, which is brilliant and keeps me from going insane like i did in the spring. (nobody likes the repetition of a mother going slowly insane.)
Over the course of the latest trip to their dad’s, the boys BOTH lost their chargers. So. that leaves us with a Thursday and a Friday in which Mom pulls out old laptops from the past and charges them, congratulates herself for her hoarding tendencies, spends what feels like hours trying old passwords, and passes over the laptop she uses for work, making it possible that she will miss the deadline on the 8th rewrite. (she does not, in fact, miss this deadline.)
I want to point out the danger inherent in moms who speak of themselves in the third person. this is a red flag. be very careful.
BOTH BOYS. and the process, my friends, of getting these people to ‘look’ has broken my spirit. When I asked their dad if there was any chance a charger had fallen out in his car, the response was ‘no idea’. (he did look, i think, probably, when specifically asked to. but there is literally no telling if that means there is or is not a charger in his car.) so the looking gene seems to be from me. Is it a gender thing? Is it the vestige of assuming the women folk will handle all the details because the men are handling the largest item during the ‘hunt’? I know, I know. I’m oversimplifying and I’m just frustrated and coming down off a fear/rage about missing the deadline. sigh.
It has been handled. a charger has been repurposed. i am here, i did my rewrite passing-in, for what is hopefully the last time. and i’ve got time to post before i start the next round of mom-driving. i’ve got a kid starting flag football today. Its December. One positive to come from Covid will be the toughening up of these New Englander kids. They’ll be playing sports outside in every single kind of weather. And I’m down with it.
I want my boys Wisconsin Tough. with soft squishy insides. I am cool with all the versions they turn out to be. I so am.
I’m writing a story about a crab currently, just fyi. he’s a gentle one. irony?
oh god, the days keep coming. joy and sarcasm and joy and sarcasm. it can be so much. and just fine, all at once.
- peace out,
- uwmofo
What a bind for a parent to be in. You act responsibly and solve the problem your kids present to you and they learn, once again, that they can depend on you. That’s good for their sense of security and stability in life. But what do they learn about being responsible? When does a parent shift to “natural consequences” for the kids’ not being responsible? Such a bind.