Self Esteem Crisis

I don't know what is going on with me lately. I have been plagued with feelings of self-doubt and inadequacy. I question my mothering skills, my teaching skills, my cooking...the list is quite lengthy and not getting any shorter. Action must be taken but frankly, I'm at a loss.

Kiki isn't helping. We were in Pocatello last weekend, and met my sister at Lava Hot Springs. Kiki was angered while we were changing back into our clothes by my failure to bring the "right" underwear. "Yeah, Kiki," I muttered, "I'm a bad mom."

"And you're fat," she replied.

Then last night, I said to her, "Kiki, you are so cute I just can't even stand it." She said, "You're cute too," then quietly added, "...in the dark."

Is it any wonder I'm feeling fragile? I plan on spending the next little while starving myself and keeping the lights low.

In other happenings, Kiki's hair finally grew out enough that we were able to finally get a REAL haircut. It is very cute. We visited the Shelton's in Pocatello for President's Day. Kate had a piano recital coming up and I made her practice even though we were on a break.

Kiki and Charlie bonded over their shared love of dinosaurs and mischief.

Whitney is cute, cute. She developed quite a little attachment to her Uncle Bruce this trip. I'm not considered an entity of my own, just an extension of Bruce, which is why I get called "Bruce" as well.

My nephew Theo turned 2. We celebrated in style at our PG institution, Taco Amigo.
He is a delight and a wonder.

My and my mom's piano recital was on Saturday. It was Kate's first recital, and I have some video to post, so more on that later.

This and That

Not much happening here, but there are a few things I'd like to remember:

***Valentine's Day was moderately successful. Bruce and I took our date early and had dinner together Friday night. I was enjoying a perfectly cooked medium rare beef tenderloin when our sitter called to tell us that Kiki threw up in her bed. Romance over. We came home to wash sheets and Pillow Pets and give Chloe a well-earned paycheck. Kate was aghast that she would be required to go to school on Valentine's. "But...but...it's a HOLIDAY!" she exclaimed. Her attendance was deemed worthwhile after she realized she would be partying all day. We also had Valentine's to deliver to friends in the neighborhood. I told Kate to put them on the doorstep, ring the bell, then run like heck. She looked at me like I was certainly a liar, but did it anyway. Bruce gave me 5 pounds of Hot Tamales, and if you think that is a lame gift, then you have SERIOUSLY underestimated how much I love Hot Tamales. For Bruce's gift, he picked himself out a new phone. The EVO is a welcome addition to the family: Kate told Bruce, "I love your phone. And you."

***The girls have beome obsessed with wallets and purses. Bruce and I gave them new wallets for Valentine's Day, and they immediately put their dollars and cents inside. They carry around the purses (although Kiki's usually has plastic animals, her wallet, and a pair of ballet slippers- just in case!) like real grown-ups. At Walmart yesterday, Kiki wanted Cheetos, and, clutching her wallet close, said, "Don't worry Mom, I've got it."

***Kiki started gymnastics. It's pretty much the cutest. thing. ever.

***I had Parent Teacher Conference for Kate. She is doing great in school. She is reading above the expected level, is doing excellent in math, and (big sigh of relief) is unfailingly polite and kind. Mrs. Hatch has been on a cruise this week, and Kate is seriously bugged by having a substitute. It's nothing wrong with the sub necessarily, it's just that Mrs. Hatch is an amazing teacher, and Kate has actually cried missing her so much.

***My piano recital is coming up. I am combining with my mom so we rented a concert hall. I have 27 students now, which is a lot for me! My last recital was at my house, but there are just way too many people for that now. My students are working hard and I think they are going to do great. I was thinking about playing at the recital, but frankly, I have been plagued lately by some serious insecurities. I don't know what's going on with me.

***I ran my first 9 miler since the great shin-splint debacle of 2010. It felt great, and I have running friends now, so I'm pretty happy.

Life is busy.

And I almost forgot: I bought Kiki a cheeseburger the other day, and she took a bite, then played, then fell asleep, so I threw the cheeseburger away. When she woke up (hours later) she asked about the cheeseburger and I admitted I threw it in the garbage. I then went about my business, but when I came back to the kitchen some time later that little stinker had fished that cheeseburger out of the garbage and had eaten it.

You Can't Handle The Truth.

A few weeks ago, Kate's school sent home a letter regarding some testing in reading proficiency that would be going on during the month of January. Kate would be tested and I was to reassure her that it was nothing to stress about. We parents were to keep our eyes peeled because the results would be sent home to us.


And they were. And the three possible ratings my child could have possibly received were as follows:

Benchmark

Strategic

Intensive

What in the he** are those words supposed to mean?

Of course I know what they MEAN, I just can't fathom how they describe my child's reading ability. After careful studying, I finally figured out that Benchmark was above grade level, Strategic was at grade level, and Intensive was below grade level. (Kate was Benchmark but that's not really germane to this discussion.) Thank goodness I have a degree and MY reading is "Benchmark" because I'm telling you that both were required to make sense of this results sheet. I actually complained to Kate's teacher about it because it was so ridiculous. I am being heartfelt and serious when I say that I am certain that there are parents out there who received this paper and STILL don't know if their kid should get an ice cream cone or a tutor.


About this same time, Rose and I began a little e-mail exchange of articles we had found interesting during the week, and she sent across one with the following comment (I'm quite certain she won't mind that I share this):

"Also, why do women keep apologizing to me when things aren't perfect in their lives? I'm being serious when I ask you if I seem like the kind of person who would judge someone because they had stinky garbage in the kitchen or blundered a conversation??"

Why are we so scared to be truthful? Why do we feel like anything less than perfect means we owe the world an apology? Why can't we be truthful about what we actually are?

What would be so wrong with simply saying that your child is reading below grade level? It's true and it's helpful information. I don't understand why we don't think our kids would benefit from knowing the truth: in words that accurately reflect what the child accomplished. I absolutely think that we should communicate negative information in a positive way...no one needs to be a jerk about it. But you try explaining to a first grader that their reading level is "Intensive" and see if they leave that conversation any further ahead than if you said, "Darling, your reading is below others in your grade...Here's what we are going to do about it...and everything is going to work out fine." I don't think we do our children any good when we assume that bad news will cause them to crumple. I think kids need to learn to deal with adversity, and my experience has been that when I give Kate all the necessary information in an appropriate way, she responds to a tough situation a whole lot better than when I try to glaze over the facts in order to "protect" her.

That said, I sometimes assume my friends won't think as much of me if I share my "Bad News." Why do we apologize for our stinky garbage when we ALL have stinky garbage? I have done this very thing: apologized for something I couldn't help or actually wasn't bothered by. Why do we automatically assume that others think less of us when we fall short of ideal? I know that most of us are like Rose: we don't care if someone hasn't perfectly cleaned their house or has on mom jeans or said something they immediately regretted. When we assume others "can't handle the truth" we do them a disservice: we are in fact assuming that they are unable to accept us or that they will judge us, and for those who love us, that's just not the case. I hope that I can learn the same thing I'm trying to teach my children: that the truth, thoughtfully and kindly presented, is the best thing we can give others and ourselves. The truth is what makes us stronger, the truth is what helps us to change, and the truth is a friend to us.