Tuesday, March 06, 2007
I spoke to one of Stink's teachers last night for an hour on the phone. Being open minded, I listened to a few very minor concerns she had about his disposition.
I then spoke to my sister-in-law, a Master degreed teacher with ten year's experience, who told me that, while these women mean well, they are most likely full of crap.
I like his teachers, and though the optimist wants to believe that they truly want what's best for him, the mother is for once siding on the side of the sister-in-law, not because I'm that easily swayed, but because, deep in my gut, I know it's right. There's not a damn thing wrong with my kid. (And after seeing kids who bite, hit, tick, stutter, swear, drool or stay silent, I can say this with confidence.)
I am arriving at the following conclusion: No one knows their kids like their own mothers. I believe many people mean well in regards to other peoples' children, but a little education over serious subject matters can lead to some seriously unnecessary drama.
Ex: If a volcano is errupting, I'm thinking a blind mute could satisfactorily declare, "Get the Fxxx out of here!" and no one will argue. But an hourly tour guide with a certificate from a three hour geology study, throwing out buzz words to bewildered tourists, does not a mountain expert make. They cannot, on a hot day, reasonably suggest that: One tall hill + 100 degree heat + something weird "we can't put our finger on" + a few colorful rocks that stand out from the normal boring plains and valleys of robot land = DANGER! FIREY EXPLOSION! POSSIBLE DOOM FOR MOUNTAINS SOCIAL SAFETY! Let's call in chief Volcanobugabooo from the mainland to haphazardly diagnos issues that aren't there and scare the crap out of its sister mountains who helped create it!"
My point (yes, there is one) is that my sister in law teacher - who I trust - who has seen it all - reassured me that I'm not crazy. That my kid is fine - more than fine.
I won't be bringing up this conversation again. Not only because it's not fair to Stink who, honest as I might be with my feelings, might not want his life spread out in gory detail for classmates to read when he's 12. But also, because I think there comes a time in everyone's life, mother or not, when the analysis has to stop. When you know, deep in your gut, that you don't need listen to every Tom Dick and Mary that has an opinion. That, if something is warranted, you'll stick your neck out. But until then, the conversation is closed. Even to friends. I know I brought it up, but now? I'm done. Let me deal with this in my way.
And with that, I'm off to kiss my perfect (yeah, you heard that right) perfect kids before I knock off. Because, I said it before and I'll say it again: this world has gotten insane with over thinking. The right school, the right brand name diaper, the right baby formula, the lack of baby formula, the right car, the right class, the right rod up their ass - you need it ALL to have PERFECTION.
Let me tell you that even if my kid had 12 toes and a humpback, he/she'd be perfect because God made them that way.
And that's just that.