PARENTING: WHERE CREDIT IS DUE

It occurred to me the other day that there are two very important things my son does, that are not only crucial to being a functional and independent human, but that as a parent I can take very little credit for:

#1. Going to the bathroom (in a bathroom)
#2. Reading.

Let's start with #1.

Sure... Right before Jonah turned 2, in hopes that he would just be naturally drawn to potty training, I bought a little potty that lit up and sang if "the goods" hit the bowl. In truth... Other than becoming a receptacle for Curious George stickers and thick strands of black hair during my (weekly) blowout session (it's the best I can do, people), this potty was of little use. In fact, there wasn't a whole lot of "training" that went on. Honestly, it just kind of happened. Obviously, we did a few things here and there to encourage the process (i.e.  The Cheery"Who wants M&Ms for breakfast?!" Dance, or The "Let's Pee Pee on Cheerios" Game), but if I'm being honest with myself (and/or have just completely erased all of the early potty years of misery from my memory), I'm fairly certain the "training"part happened at daycare and preschool. Bottom line, now he goes without any issue. So however it happened, let's just be grateful.

#2 Reading.

First of all, let me just say that Redshirting was the single most important (right) decision we ever made. Without question, waiting a year to start him in Kindergarten was a huge gift and one of the reasons I think he's thriving so much at school right now. In addition to the fact that his teacher is amazing and Snow White reincarnated (that for another time), the fact that he's at a public school where the state standards are enforced, in my opinion, is also a huge gift. He's reading and writing, adding and subtracting. And we are less than 2 months into school. The point is, as much reading (and talking) as *I* have done to/with Jonah throughout his life, I had nothing to do with the actual part of TEACHING him how to do it. Kind of like going on the potty, I'd say the bulk of his ability to read and write did not happen on my dime.

As a parent, it's easy to get caught up in the guilt about what you're doing or not doing, and let the "it's all my fault" snowball swell. (After all, this blog is sort of dedicated to that).  But as Jonah gets older, and I get a little less hard on myself (note: OGAP is going better than expected), I'm finding that I'm just happy he is HAPPY. He's a happy boy who has everything he needs and then some. My parenting tactics can always be improved upon and his behavior can always be modified. But for now, this week, that is, I've noticed that whatever we've done SO FAR ain't bad. Because of us, there are a lot of things this kid does really well.

He knows the importance about being kind.
He believes in God and thinks deeply about his religion.
He isn't afraid of a single roller coaster or ride.
He can tell a good joke.
He cares deeply about the Dodgers, and whoever else his dad or Peter is rooting for.
He loves sushi.
He has a deep interest in Volcanoes and Yellowstone National Park. (Both of which he's' never seen in person.)
He understands sarcasm.
He likes "spooky stories" and requests they all start with "It was a dark and stormy night..."
He never shies away from a good cuddle.
He knows what it's like to live through an emergency and is reflective and grateful for his safety.
He thinks I'm the funniest mom in the entire world. "Even more funny than Hannah's mom. And she's pretty funny."

He is THIS because of us. THIS we can take credit for.

On a different note, Jonah's been saying, "What up, Yo?" a lot lately. I can tell you right now, that is absolutely NOT my fault. Totally blaming this on someone else. Like, for reals yo.

ON A DARK DAY

“Hi, Jonah’s Mommy,” they whispered as I entered the classroom. 

“Hi, everyone,” I said quietly with a little wink directed at Jonah.

When I dropped him off at school in the morning, I asked his teacher Mrs. S if she needed any volunteers later in the day. I have volunteered a few times… and though it almost inevitably means my son will misbehave more than usual (I suspect because he’s 5, and is excited that I’m there and therefore, “showing off”), I had an urge to be there… Even if it meant watching Jonah squirm when he should be listening, or me witnessing a flaw in the school and “the system.”

While the children finished story time, my assignment was to cut paper and put together packets for Earth Day. How appropriate…  They will draw their world in the circle I cut out…

It was hard for me not to see this as a metaphor. After watching the coverage from the Boston Bombings, I had a fleeting thought… A thought that shocked me and unnerved me for even having it escape my conscious:

Why are these heinous acts of violence happening (again) and why would I ever want to bring another child into this universe?

My eyes popped the second I thought it. Me?? Not bring another child on to this earth? I have always wanted more than one child… Two, three, heck, even four. I love children. I want a family. A BIG family. I love being a mother and nothing, not war, or natural disasters, or even the tragedies on 9/11 or the deranged and unthinkable acts in Newtown, has EVER made me question whether it was fair or not to bring a child into the world…

But last night, there I was. Flooded with the darkest and most dismal thought I think I’ve ever (consciously) had.

“Jonah’s mommy, um, my mommy has a friend who’s name is also Jennifer,” one little girl said tapping my shoulder.

“It’s a pretty cool, name, huh?” I said… only to be interrupted with:

“Um, Jonah’s mommy, does Jonah want to go trick o’ treating with me again on Halloween?” said another little girls (I’m not gonna lie, the little girls looooove them some Jonah.)

“That sounds like a plan,” I said, stacking the Earth packets in a pile.

It was time for “Reading Buddies.” Every week, a 2^nd grade class comes to read to their class. Jonah’s

buddy was a girl with a bob haircut and a face full of freckles. Some of the buddies seemed totally into the assignment … carefully explaining each word and speaking with animation and exaggeration. Not Jonah’s buddy. She stopped periodically to go chat with friends at another station. But he sat there anyway. Listening closely to her words… even when they trailed off.

Our home earth… I love…

It sat with me. These words. These children.  The boys and their eagerness to play basketball at recess... The girls and their barrettes... falling out of their hair and their mismatched leggings and tee shirts… The row of lunch boxes filled with meals carefully crafted and packed by a tired adult that morning… The calendar and clock on the board with clear-cut letters, numbers and pictures of seasons so they learn to tell time and why, someday, it will matter.  These things, being there, it made me happy and hopeful.

My fleeting thought has since left my body and I’m back to wanting to have another child pronto (Oy, I can totally hear P’s heart racing as he reads this. LOL). As cliche as it sounds, Monday’s event was sadly another reminder for me, though, that during a dark time, to turn to something bright for a reminder of the future.