Saturday, February 28, 2015

I Don’t Call You, So Don’t Call Me

That is what I wish I could tell my son’s school.  I get a call about once a month, well, I used to, but lately it’s becoming more frequent, about something he did or didn’t do.  And I think to myself, “Are they kidding?  Do they have any idea what I go through with him at home?  But they don’t see me calling them every minute.”

I’ve always said that if he were my oldest, I would have stopped at one.  I’ve said that 2/3 or 66% is not so bad.  I’ve convinced myself that him being the youngest I’ve slacked off due to fatigue.  I’ve considered that he got the worse genes from both parents.  I’ve been trying to figure out this kid’s problem for almost 13 years.  And I think I’m getting close.  I have decided that there is not a problem; instead, I have to take the good with the bad. 

Every day this pain in the ass kid leaves the car, he seldom forgets to give me a kiss.  When he returns home, I look forward for a kiss form his cold lips.  When he turns during the nights (he still finds his way in my bed) he always plants a kiss on my face.  He seldom sulks.  He is in a great mood 95% of the time.  Little things excite him because he is just full of life.  Is he going to be perfect?  Hell no!  Can I pick which traits will be his dominant ones?  I wish. 

This is what I’m dealing with now.  A daughter who is a perfectionist, who is usually at the top of her game.  A son who works hard, and usually gets the raw end of the stick.  And my bonus child who is alive solely to have fun.  Case in point:  They all made their schools’ basketball teams.  My freshman daughter made the Varsity team as a starter.  Ended up scoring over 125 points and was a leader in various categories.  Her twin made his Freshman team and as hard as he worked, as many times as he scored as soon as he gets a minute or two in the game, inasmuch as he scored over 60 points while playing barely 10% of each game, he just couldn’t get the respect that he deserved.  Then there was my problem child.  Great point guard.  Wasn’t a starter either.  Debatable, but won’t comment any further.  Gets thrown off the team close to the end of the season due to bad behavior.  Punishment not debatable, but still won’t comment any further.  Have to give dude some kind of privacy, after all.

But after my daughter’s last game, as my husband and I watched the local news, I was so proud to see not only the game featured, but to hear her name being called (and correctly, I might add), to see her land a deep two pointer (the reporter’s words, not mine) and to see her on the court for a few more seconds.  It was one of the proudest moments of my life as a parent.  Then it dawned on me that I was equally as proud of her twin for working his butt off and scoring over 60 points, off, off, off the bench, you know like some unheard of Broadway show.  And as much as I don’t condone his actions, I was just as proud of my Lil’ Man for never veering far from who he is.  The next morning when her brothers saw the clip, they were just as proud of her as we were, which made me even more proud that they didn’t harbor any envy towards her being in the spotlight.

As a mother, I’m thankful that I don’t punish myself or feel guilty for every little thing that my children do, although I do believe that it is all a reflection of me.  But I do worry that they will get out of control if I cannot get them to follow every step of my anal commands.  Then it hit me – there are THREE children with the same genes but not the same genetic makeup, so how is it my fault that one child listens and another one doesn’t?  How is it my fault that one child is focused and another child is only focusing on sports?  How is it that two children usually do their chores and one is usually hiding from his chores? 

So now instead of wondering where I went wrong with him, instead of hoping that he can be a little bit more like his sister, instead of wishing that he and his brother wouldn’t butt heads so much, I have realized that when that spermatozoon hit that ovum to form that zygote, it all happened haphazardly.  I was having fun then and perspectively speaking, I will have to find a way to have fun with that outcome!  

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