"I had a happy childhood..."
I found myself face to face with Super Intense Mom at the Pinewood Derby. While she and I continue to be cordial to one another, we really have not spoken since the Scrapbook Standoff of 2005 when my child and I did not participate in her end of year classroom project for the teacher. She likes to make things a Really Big Deal and she thinks I am a slacker. (And really, if I am such a slacker? Then why do we keep showing up at the same events with our kids, huh?)
The father of Frank's best friend was talking with Super Intense Mom. He asked me about Frank's car and we commiserated on the problem of waiting until the last day to adjust the wheel alignment while Super Intense Mom clucked her tongue and chimed in with their Pinewood Derby building schedule which includes months of preparation. Frank brought his Joba car from last year and the boys were playing with it on the floor.
"I don't even know where last year's car is," the father commented.
"Under a tree in the back yard?" I suggested.
The father laughed. Super Intense Mom looked like someone poked her.
"That's why you need plastic shoe boxes so you can label them 'Pinewood Derby 2008', etc.," she said.
And then the father and I looked at each other like someone poked us.
Parents try really hard to ensure that their kids have a "happy childhood." There are lots of approaches to that goal. I watch the parents around me at kid events and feel the energy put into someone else's childhood. You can almost see the parent willing, remember this. And then there are the parents obsessed with preserving childhood by stockpiling pinewood derby cars in plastic boxes in the basement. Will they remember? What will they remember?
Frank's Boy Scout Den is pretty close. These boys go to school together and play sports together and play outside of organized activities together. They have been friends since kindergarten. In between heats, the boys were playing in the church gym, and Chris got a cut on his head and went home. The other boys in the Den got together and agreed to give Chris the "Best in Show" award which goes to best design. Chris' car was not the Best in Show - there were clearly other cars with better designs. Most notably, there was a space shuttle which was pretty amazing looking. I thought the space shuttle was the clear winner. I didn't know what happened until one of the other dads told me. After the Derby, the Den Leader took the Best in Show award to Chris. Chris figured out what happened, and he later went over to the space shuttle designer's house and gave him the award for Best in Show. (The parents exchanged emails, which is how I learned of all of this.)
When I told Frank what happened he smiled and kind of shrugged.
"That's pretty cool," I said.
"Yeah," Frank said. "We wanted Chris to have it, but the space shuttle was the coolest car."
"I think you guys are the coolest kids," I said.
There are lots and lots and lots of ways to parent. And who knows what the kids will remember from any of this. I am a mean and vindictive person (and I still have not gotten over the drama of the scrapbook) so I don't think that a kid will cherish the created memory of the car in the plastic box. I bet he remembers his friend's bloody head, though. Or maybe the giant licorice from the snack bar? Or maybe none of it? Slacker Mom believes that true childhood memories come from the interaction of friends and the creation of a sense of the world that includes compassion but also reality.
We are all good parents. We are all doing it right. The behavior of our children proves that. Their compassion and practicality proves that. I should take a lesson or two from our kids and get over myself so I can talk to Super Intense Mom and share with her my revelation.
The father of Frank's best friend was talking with Super Intense Mom. He asked me about Frank's car and we commiserated on the problem of waiting until the last day to adjust the wheel alignment while Super Intense Mom clucked her tongue and chimed in with their Pinewood Derby building schedule which includes months of preparation. Frank brought his Joba car from last year and the boys were playing with it on the floor.
"I don't even know where last year's car is," the father commented.
"Under a tree in the back yard?" I suggested.
The father laughed. Super Intense Mom looked like someone poked her.
"That's why you need plastic shoe boxes so you can label them 'Pinewood Derby 2008', etc.," she said.
And then the father and I looked at each other like someone poked us.
Parents try really hard to ensure that their kids have a "happy childhood." There are lots of approaches to that goal. I watch the parents around me at kid events and feel the energy put into someone else's childhood. You can almost see the parent willing, remember this. And then there are the parents obsessed with preserving childhood by stockpiling pinewood derby cars in plastic boxes in the basement. Will they remember? What will they remember?
Frank's Boy Scout Den is pretty close. These boys go to school together and play sports together and play outside of organized activities together. They have been friends since kindergarten. In between heats, the boys were playing in the church gym, and Chris got a cut on his head and went home. The other boys in the Den got together and agreed to give Chris the "Best in Show" award which goes to best design. Chris' car was not the Best in Show - there were clearly other cars with better designs. Most notably, there was a space shuttle which was pretty amazing looking. I thought the space shuttle was the clear winner. I didn't know what happened until one of the other dads told me. After the Derby, the Den Leader took the Best in Show award to Chris. Chris figured out what happened, and he later went over to the space shuttle designer's house and gave him the award for Best in Show. (The parents exchanged emails, which is how I learned of all of this.)
When I told Frank what happened he smiled and kind of shrugged.
"That's pretty cool," I said.
"Yeah," Frank said. "We wanted Chris to have it, but the space shuttle was the coolest car."
"I think you guys are the coolest kids," I said.
There are lots and lots and lots of ways to parent. And who knows what the kids will remember from any of this. I am a mean and vindictive person (and I still have not gotten over the drama of the scrapbook) so I don't think that a kid will cherish the created memory of the car in the plastic box. I bet he remembers his friend's bloody head, though. Or maybe the giant licorice from the snack bar? Or maybe none of it? Slacker Mom believes that true childhood memories come from the interaction of friends and the creation of a sense of the world that includes compassion but also reality.
We are all good parents. We are all doing it right. The behavior of our children proves that. Their compassion and practicality proves that. I should take a lesson or two from our kids and get over myself so I can talk to Super Intense Mom and share with her my revelation.
posted by Lea at 6:27 AM
1 Comments:
Honestly, I doubt she'd appreciate the sentiment, given the stereotype of her I have in my head. That's not to say you shouldn't try.
I think there are as many approaches to parenting as there are parents. Some of them don't make any sense to anyone else, but a lot of them turn out good kids.
Not that I have any kids. I just have a damn good mom.
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