There is a lot that can be said about doing something well; really putting the effort in and then having the outcome match that effort. The challenge and the struggle, even if you "fail," are what's important, at least that's what I always thought. Competition is crucial, pushing yourself to the limit, even moreso, but feeling good about yourself when you know that you don't have anything more to give? Well, let's just say that THAT feeling is something you wish that you could experience everyday. See, I just don't understand mediocrity. Oh, don't get me wrong, I am a very average person, even below average in many things that matter like parenting, but, my mediocrity stems from those things in which I do not engage. In those arenas in which I throw myself to the lions, I either do my best or I kill myself trying. And, my point here is that I am raising a virtual bunch of mediocritites and yes, I've just coined that word, maybe the Oxford English Dictionary will include it next year in their annual list of new words to be published. Hell, they put bromance in this year's, I might have a shot.
My theory here is that, by example, my heathen, spoiled, undisciplined, slacker children will see that there is much to be said for hard work and effort and that when they see me busting my ass to do the laundry or take out the trash and grade papers and play with Ty and attempt to cook dinner, that they will come over and help me, that ultimately, they will smile and ask, "And how can we make your life easier Mother?" But no, not my boys. Sure, they are funny and charming and they make me laugh more than they make me cry, but wait, they are still young. But their idea of a work ethic is grabbing the first plate to dish out the food that they didn't make and then rolling their eyes when I ask them to clear their plates from the table. Now I realize that most of this is my fault and I am taking my share of the responsibility here, of course I am. How could I not? What I need to change is my triage mentality of parenting and I need to move more into preventative parenting. One can only hope that it is not too late... For example, Nick complained of a stomach ache a bit ago, so I told him to go and lay down in my bed for half an hour; it's cooler in my room. He did and I sat in his room typing on the computer. Alas, he walks into his room, not ten minutes later to say, red faced, "Mom, I don't feel so..." and projectile vomiting all over the carpet. I guess it was a good thing that he drank that milk with dinner. So, as I scrubbed the vomit out of the beige colored carpet (Tim's idea), I contemplated the notion that children, like Play-Doh, take the shape of whatever mold you press them into, willingly, ably and without question. I guess the questions come later, but by then I can just kick them out of the house. My first question would have been, "Why didn't you just go into the bathroom?" But I already know the answer. I could see it on his face; he was coming to find me, in the hope that I could make it better. I couldn't and now his room smells like curdled milk...
As a teacher, the type of student who infuriates me beyond all others, besides the heckler, is the one who was SO capable and smart and has so much potential, but who chooses to fail because he/she is just plain lazy. I've had students who worked extremely hard and they still failed, but then there was one of these kids across from them and it makes me crazy. They have so much going for them, but, for whatever reasons, they just don't do what they need to do. Case in point, my jackass 13 year old son Jake. I love Jake, you know I do and I chose the word jackass specifically here because a donkey will kick and bray and remain absolutely stubborn and resolute in his determination once he is fixated on something. Well, chuckle, meet Jake. If there were such a thing as a verbal oilspill, my son would have overflown by now. He is funny and charming and he has a great sense of humor. BUT he is also loud, obnoxious and he is constantly trying to find a shortcut to every single thing that he has to do that he doesn't want to do. And he is going to be one of those adults who is hit hard in the face with reality when he goes out into the world on his own. He and I have had numerous long talks about his life and his goals and his dreams and at almost 14, time is running out for my role in his decision making process. A few more years and he will have to figure it out and I will no longer hold the mold, by then, he will have broken mine and begun to form his own. At least I hope so. He will blatantly say to me, "I didn't do it because I didn't want to..." as if that were going to hold any kind of water with me. Nope, in my boat he'd be cast overboard with no life preserver. I just want him to understand that the reward is inherent in the work that he puts into whatever he wants to do or be and if he cannot follow mine or Tim's example then I'm going to just have to start beating his ass...
Rosh, Emma, Coco and I (not counting Salvador because he runs great no matter what) ran a 1/2 marathon last Sunday and not one of us wanted to do it. On top of which, Coco and Rosh were both nursing legitimate injuries and Emma, man, she was nursing a hangover and not having run for awhile and me, well, I'm just the chronic wet blanket in the group anyway so, we stood around before the race, bitching and complaining and knowing that none of us SHOULD run, but when the gun went off, guess where we were? Right there, off and... running. To top it all off, Coco beat us all and finished with a great time, but the point here is that we did finish and it was brutal. The course was lame and we were all hurting and none of us wanted to be there, but we said we were going to run it and so we did. Consequences abound, but that's exactly my point; say you're going to do it and then beat the shit out of that rug until all the dust and dirt are pummeled right out, until there is no blood, sweat or tears left to share or to complain about, even if you might imagine that there are.
There are so many things that I don't attempt to do because I know that I won't do well at them and it's not the lack of success that keeps me from it, it's the downright knowledge that I have limitations so I would rather focus on the things that I can do and that mean something to me. And those are the things that I will put to bed, smiling as my own face hits the pillow at night. I really would like to change the world; to leave an indelible print that people could follow. To ultimately know that my life meant something more than packing lunches and cleaning up vomit, important in their own right, but not so much in the way of making a difference in people's lives. (insert sigh here) So, deep down, in my heart, maybe even in my soul, I know what I need to do; I just need to find the strength and the will and the time to do it and then I need to do it well. It really is that simple or...maybe it isn't.
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