Being the Mean Mom

Originally posted on my other blog from May 20, 2014...

I've always been a mean mom. I believe that my kids need to know that there are consequences to their actions and that life isn't fair. Otherwise, how will they grow to be well-adjusted adults? As a result, I have very well-behaved kids. I'm not always mean, but when the situation calls for it, I have no trouble rising to the occasion. I yell, I spank, I ground, I punish whenever necessary. But this week I'm having to do one of the hardest things I've ever had to do under the 'mean mom' banner.

Big Sister (Erin) has been dancing since she was three, competitively since she was five. She's really good and she really, really loves it. Which is why when she failed her first class, I threatened that if she didn't get her grades under control she wouldn't be able to dance anymore. Certainly it would hit home at her core and instill just how important her school work was. Right? That was about this time last year at the end of fifth grade when she got her last report card and her first 'NI' grade. Because dance team try-outs happen at the end of the school year, it came with a "last-chance" since we were already contractually obligated for this year's dance team by then. Unfortunately, she must not have thought I was serious... because she has consistently failed to turn in her homework all year and has failed, literally, at least one class each semester - sometimes more than one. Now I'm faced with the hardest thing I've ever had to do: not let her try out for a team next year.

I found out yesterday that even though she's known for months, she hasn't told any of her friends on the team because she is so sad. And every time I think about not getting to see her do something she has such passion for and is so good at, I want to cry. But I refuse to give in. (Plus Hubby adamantly won't let me even if I had a moment of weakness. Not that I've had that many of them...) She's heading into Junior High and, if she couldn't find the balance between school and extra-curricular activities this year while still in elementary school, she has little chance of doing so when she's thrust into the insanity of seven different classes and seven different teachers with homework every night. Instead of enrolling her in summer dance classes, I'm enrolling her in a summer reading program to teach her study skills - because god knows she hasn't listened to anything I've tried to teach or instill in her the past couple of years.

Being a parent sure sucks sometimes. I watch my friends struggle with kids who don't know what they love yet or have decided that video games are all they want to do and I know I'm not alone in these kinds of struggles. But it doesn't make it any easier. Clearly Big Sister would rather dance than do homework but if she can't graduate high school or college, I've failed in my duties as a parent. It frightens me to think I only have six more short years in which to influence her actions and help her figure out how to be an adult and then, whether either of us are ready or not, she will be an adult.

Here's hoping this is only a year break that proves to her how important it is to keep up on her homework so she can return to the thing that I always knew would keep her out of trouble when she gets to high school. I can't fathom if that plan backfires on me. I wish this kid had come with an owner's manual because I could sure use one!

Junior High Registration... and a lesson in parenting from my younger self

Recently we attended junior high orientation. It was surreal as I sat there with my oldest wondering how we had gone from the first day of Kindergarten to already in junior high school in what felt like a year. Cliche, I know, but it seriously feels like the older my kids get the faster the time flies by.

I'm an overprotective parent, Clint even more so, and I am a bit of a control freak. Okay, maybe a tad more than a bit... These combined in a perfect storm where I sat in the auditorium reading through the packet they'd handed out while Erin sat next to me surrounded by her friends talking about how excited they were and what classes they wanted to take. And then it hit me. A perfect memory of being in sixth grade sitting at my desk, with a pink card stock registration form picking out my electives for the next year. It felt monumental and so exciting. The first time I got to choose anything significant for myself. I remember how grown up I felt and thinking it was really the first independent thing I'd ever done because my parents were nowhere around. It happened during school and they NEVER got a say in what I picked for electives.

I stepped back and observed who had the packet, and who had started analyzing which electives would fit into our family life (who wants to be required to participate in choir concerts that happen outside of school hours for part of your grade when we already have such a crazy life with dance, right?). And I realized that I was stealing from Erin the potential for her own significant childhood memory right then in that moment and if I did she would never have that opportunity again.

I quickly read through the rest of the materials while listening to the counselor's presentation to satisfy my need to know everything, took a deep breath, and handed it to Erin to pick her electives. She may never remember that moment in the same way I remembered my sixth grade moment but at least I was grown-up enough to allow her the opportunity. She picked French for her language because she already knows so much from dance - which surprised me. And she picked that dreaded choir class that will require our commitment to concerts but it is on the bottom of her list of ranked priorities and she may not get it, hopefully.

As much as I want to shelter and protect and make all the decisions with all my experience and knowledge behind me, she will never become the kind of adult she has the potential to be if I do. Growing up is harder on parents than I ever thought it was going to be!