TODAY’S FORECAST: Wet with a chance of awesomeness! 🙂
I’ve always thought of myself as a relatively intelligent person. I always did well in school, and had it not been for a disastrous first semester of college which I spent testing my newfound freedoms, I would have certainly graduated with honors instead of just shy of them. As an adult, I’ve made fairly prudent decisions as well. I mean, we all have our “duh” moments, but for the most part, I wouldn’t say I’ve done anything yet that would earn me the title of “village idiot.”
That was up until Meghan turned 10. During these last few months since her birthday, I have somehow managed to go from what I thought was a fairly sensible human being to completely brainless. It’s as if someone just flipped my “smart” switch off and I went completely daft. Everything I say and do is suddenly so foolish in her eyes. My little girl who needed my opinion for everything suddenly doesn’t want or need it for much of anything right now as a “tween.”
Just this past week, I suggested that she might want to brush the back of her hair before she left for school. She just looked at me as if this was the dumbest suggestion she had ever heard and rolled her eyes dramatically for full effect. When I told her it wasn’t an option, she rolled her eyes again and stormed off to get her hairbrush. Seriously, all that drama for hair?
After school when I asked her what new things she learned about that day, she said, “Well we worked on Kids-Scripts,” and launched into a lengthy discussion of three characters in a fifth dimension. I let her finish and told her quite genuinely, that it “sounded very cool.” Then I asked her, “Are you working on Kid-Scripts for class, is this a library project or what?”
Again, I got the infamous eye roll. “Mom, do you even know what Kids-Scripts is?”
I shook my head. “No, honey, I actually don’t, but I’m hoping that you’ll tell me.”
Well, she gave me that look again, the one that says “Mom, how dense can you be?” and started to tell me what Kid-Scripts are. After a few minutes of grand enlightenment, I learned that each of the fifth graders are writing a creative script and that they will be sent to a traveling theater company that will perform the top two chosen scripts for the whole school audience. A pretty cool school project, I thought, but I digress.
Just when I was beginning to feel a tad bit more knowledgeable, Bob came home from work that evening and asked Meghan how her day had been. She said, “Well, we worked on Kids-Scripts, which was really fun.”
Bob looked at me and said, “What’s Kids-Scripts?”
Meghan said, “Doesn’t anyone listen to me? I already told you what Kids-Scripts are.”
I jumped in, “Meghan, Daddy wasn’t here when we had the Kids-Scripts discussion today; he doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Lose the attitude, please.”
She looked at me so pitiably, and you guessed it, the eye roll was back. “You mean you didn’t tell him, Mom? Sorry Dad, I thought she already told you.”
That’s what I’ve been reduced to, she. I mean honestly, how thick could I be? What sensible mother who has dinner to make, homework to check, appointments to schedule and another child to rear would not have called her husband immediately at work to brief him on the ins and outs of their 10-year old daughter’s school project? Sigh. I’m telling you, it’s like some brain-sucking monster just came and stole my brain so that I have not an ounce of intelligence left in my head.
I was feeling especially void of all sense last evening again when I heard Meghan say, “Mom, can you help me with something on this?” Ironically, she was working on the Kids-Scripts project, furiously putting her creative thoughts on paper and had come to a roadblock in the process.
I approached cautiously, hoping not to step on any proverbial eggshells as I walked over to her.
“I can’t find a descriptive word for this,” she said. “Mr. Sherman said he has to be able to imagine it in his head when he’s reading it.”
I read a few sentences that she had typed and made a couple of suggestions she could use, hoping they wouldn’t elicit the dreaded “you are so dumb” look. Miraculously, they didn’t. In fact, she jumped up and hugged me and said, “Yesssss, that’s it. You are the awesomest Mom ever!”
Thank you, Lord, for small victories. Hey folks, I may not be smart, but I’m still awesome. Maybe it’s not quite over yet.