by Julie Harris

Similar to parenting, e-mail feedback is like a box of chocolates.  You never know what you're gonna' get...here's the latest feedback on my Mother's Day article, How to Fail at Parenting:  Thanks, Kid!

From Jane, LCSW (Licensed Clinical Social Worker):

“Momsense is an art and not a science. Trust me on this one! What you are teaching at home and what your son is doing in school are on opposite ends of the spectrum! He may in fact be going through a growth spurt and his body needs the extra nutrition and fuel. It may just come back and haunt him some day in the form of an eating disorder. As for your older child discuss [sic] his potty training days when he is now a fourth grader does more harm than good. Think before you post! When he is an adult and his coworkers see this how is he going to feel? Perhaps you should say in my experience, as a mother I remember worrying about potty training, but yet you singled him out! As for the nurse she took an oath if he is there requesting a dressing change it is her duty to change it. Nurses have laws and standards they have to follow and I agree 100% she should call the parent if the child is a frequent flier in the nurse's office.Stop focusing on yourself [sic], doodah happens, and every outstanding parent knows this. If you want to join the outstanding parent league sooner or later you need to realize...it's not about YOU!”  —J-LCSW (lcsw@____.com)

Oh brother, where do I start with feedback like this?  This person completely missed the point of my lighthearted post.  The point of it was that it isn’t about me or any parent for that matter.  As a parent, you sacrifice practically everything (the least of which is pride) for your children, and happily so. 

We have never called the school to restrict the extra breakfast for our younger son even though he’s eating crap breakfast bars (with little or no nutritional value) there in the morning.  I would add that it’s quite a stretch for this person to insinuate that he may have future problems with an eating disorder because we try to steer him in the direction of better food choices in the morning.  Good grief.

As for the admonishment regarding potty-training, a classic topic about which most moms have a tale or two to share and do, our oldest son obviously went on to potty train successfully.  This fact will be noted, I’m sure, by future employers when he doesn’t show up for an interview wearing a diaper.  The bottom line for anyone to take away from this blog now, or in the future, is that our children come from a solid family foundation built on love, honesty, and togetherness.

Regarding the overdone speech about nurses and oaths…what’s wrong with not needing a nurse to change a simple band-aid on our own kid when we have an industrial-size box full of them right here at home?  Besides, thanks to the recent austerity measures of our governor, our district can’t afford to keep the nurse at just one school full-time anymore.  Band-aid lottery.

It’s ironic that in accusing me of making it all about me, this person made their response all about them.  Note the reference to the LCSW degree, the self-proclaimed expertise in the “art” of Momsense, and finally, the connotation that they’re a member of the outstanding parent league, all things I doubt this person really is.

Besides, I don’t want to be a member of the “outstanding parent league.”  Parenthood isn’t a competition where prizes are awarded.

It’s a gift to cherish.

I’ll say it again:  Thanks, kids.

by Julie Harris

This post is dedicated to my own mother.  Thanks, Mom!  Happy Mother's Day!

Let’s face it, being a parent can feel mortifying at times.  No matter how wonderful a parent you are, there will always be times when you find yourself standing at the precipice of failure.  Or at least you’ll sure-as-hell feel like it.

For instance, take our youngest child.  Last week we found out that, unbeknownst to us, he has been eating breakfast at school.  This wouldn’t be a problem if he wasn’t already eating breakfast at home every morning: a wholesome, balanced breakfast where he's offered fruit, yogurt, juice, and organic whole grain cereal.  Before you picture the stereotypical twigs-and-rocks type of organic cereal, know that the kind he gets mimics many of the more popular brands of “kid cereals” on the market today.

So, for Lord only knows how long, we have unwittingly been paying for him to eat an extra breakfast, probably appearing as though we forget to feed him in the morning here at home.  When asked why he has been doing this, he replied, “Because I like the Cocoa-Puff breakfast bars they have at school.”

Thanks, kid.

This morning, after he ate breakfast (the first of probably two, mind you), I reminded him that we needed to change the large band-aid that protects a bad scrape on his elbow he got from falling off of his bike. 

“I’ll just get it changed it at school.” 

This coming from the same child who hugged me through tears after I dressed the fresh wound a few days earlier sniffling, “Mom, thank you!  You always make me feel better.”

Apparently, nothing beats an excuse to leave class to visit the school nurse, even though it will probably make the nurse wonder why we aren’t on top of our child’s injury, sending him to school with a dirty band-aid.

Thanks, kid.

Our oldest child also seems to have orphan syndrome.  Just by way of him being on the planet longer, his abandoned-orphan history is even lengthier.

When he was a toddler and going through potty training, we tried every trick in the book to encourage him to use the toilet, desperate to not have two kids in diapers (he and his brother are almost three years apart, so it wasn’t an unrealistic goal).  I remember being on maternity leave at the time, exasperated that I would never be able to get him out of diapers before I had to return to work. 

Following the advice of several potty training resources, I urged him to consider that “Poo-poo is bad for your skin.  It’s disgusting to have poop rubbing against your bottom when you go in a diaper, so using the toilet is better for you.  Do you understand what I’m saying?”

“I’m disgusting!” he proclaimed.

My eyes widened in shock and horror upon this misunderstanding.  “No,” I pleaded, “not you.  Poop!”  I abandoned the potty training effort for a few more weeks, out of fear that I was doing some sort of long-term psychological damage.  We changed more diapers that spring than an actual orphanage, I swear.

Thanks, kid.

More recently, our oldest told us at bedtime one night, “By the way, I need to bring in a costume and props for our presentation at school tomorrow.”

“What?” I was stunned.  My husband eyed the clock to check if there was still time to run out for a costume of sorts.  It was nine o’clock at night.  In April.

“Remember how I am going to be Harry Houdini for the 4^th grade Wax Museum show?  We have to bring in our stuff tomorrow morning.” Our son seemed pleased that he had remembered to tell us before it was too late.

So, at 9:05 pm, we scrambled to find the chain and lock and black shirt he specified that he needed for the next day.  Luckily, we had those things at home.  As we tucked him into bed, he said, “By the way, the show isn’t until next week.”

Annoyed but oddly relieved, I replied, “We know that it’s next week because we saw it in the newsletter, but isn’t it a dress-rehearsal tomorrow?”

“No.  We just have to bring our stuff in.”

The other surprise came a few days later when one of his teachers wrote us a note letting us know that if it was okay with us, she was providing a magician hat and rabbit to embellish his costume for the show.  Our son never mentioned that Houdini also needed a hat and rabbit, two things we already have at home.

Thanks, kid.

Just as there have been past incidents of parental “failure” on our part, I’m sure that there will be countless more in the future.  But because we love our children more than life itself, we wouldn’t change it for the world.

Thanks, kids.