Week 2: Mentor's Log-
I have the badge to prove it. I have the 19 year old to prove it. And I'm showing up.
These are my qualifications for mentoring mothers of pre-schoolers.
I came in late, so I was just in time for a hot potato dish breakfast without too much trouble. Except, as I was all worried about the wonderful and uplifting pearls of wisdom I would lay down on these belegered mums, I forgot that I had to get my own 13 year-old boy to zero period marching practice.
First advice: Don't be like me or don't care. My husband has a steel trap mind for infinite and basic details. I didn't know I forgot the practice until he called me to remind me I forgot. We have to stop meeting like this, I say to him. I don't like to forget things. It makes me so shamed that I have decided to forget about it.
As we sat and talked, munching hot potato dish, I noticed that it's really hard to be a parent. It was 19 years ago when I started and well, look it there, it's still hard. I am all for supporting those in hard times, but I don't really get into supporting whining. There is definitly a difference.
Second Advice: Be the parent. It's so awesome to be an adult. You can have a drink (how scandelous), you can play slots, you can drive yourself to an R rated movie. And the obvious stuff too... But you have to be the parent. The obvious stuff made you one. Live up to your potential. And being an adult is also about all the good stuff you can do. Like making a choice to stop doing everything, so you can do one thing decent. Like giving a child your next 70 years of love. Which leads to advice .....
Number Three: Hang in there. My children grew up! I don't know how they did that. But I like them and that's the biggest surprise of all. They suckered me into loving them with their fluffy short legs and the fuzz at the back of their necks. But as much as I thought I would miss that, we have our own little tribe now. They think it's so cool that they tell their peers about their own little tribe someday. I overhear them and I think Oh, I haven't scarred them. I haven't forgotten about too many early morning band rehearsels. Which leads me to
Fourth Advice: Honor the Co-Captain. Husband has been bery, bery, good to me. Too bad he can't wrestle the stuffins out of 'em anymore like back in the day. But then, the need is gone. So now, he is the other one who has the sense when I don't, the sense when I won't and the head-lock grip on the family should it ever come to that. Good stuff. But then I have to say that today 'cause he doesn't have enough estrogen to get in the room.