Sell It To Me

The term "Sell It To Me" came from a former boyfriend. His children were younger than mine and he had limits on their computer, video or gaming usage. This included other reasonable rules that were implemented.

In the name of compromise, every so often he would relent on various child-rearing restrictions by allowing his children the opportunity to do the following: They would have to "sell it to him" as to why they should be allowed to do the activity. Perhaps it was staying up a wee bit later, playing 15 minutes more on the trampoline, or a little bit more time on the computer. This was not a daily occurrence and to me seemed like a good lesson for children on the art of negotiation or compromise.

At the time two of my children were fairly independent, one in college and one in high school. My youngest was in middle school. I shared his parenting technique, "Sell It To Me" to my daughter Shelby and she said it sounded like a good idea.

That should have been a warning to me. If I had remembered when she had learned how to write persuasive letters and essays in elementary school I would have remembered how she convinced me to get her a feral kitten who single-hand-idly wreaked havoc upon our little home. I would have remembered how she persuaded her dad to get her a bunny, or Pottery Barn for Kids to makeover her bedroom or Christmas or birthday suggestions she had handwritten for both her dad and I, post-divorce.

But no, I did not remember any of it. I wish had remembered how, as a teacher, I am impressed with a well-crafted letter or essay and how I could succumb to the written word. I only thought it was an opportunity to hone in on her skills. Or her brother and sister could hone theirs too. 

If I had remembered Shelby's skills, perhaps I would have also remembered her brother or sister's. I would have remembered that Troy had attended Speech and Debate camp at Monte Vista before his freshman year. I might have remembered he had taken the course for several years. I'd know that although he didn't always choose to compete much, he was a natural. And he was naturally good at ad-libbing and making me laugh and using his humor.

My kids know I am a sucker for laughter and so I wish I had remembered how Troy used that to his full advantage. It would aggravate both his sisters when they saw me laughing instead of disciplining. I should have remembered the time he presented his defensive lacrosse coach with the team’s end of year gift. As he did so, he recited a well-crafted speech that moved grown mothers, fathers, players and the coach he so wonderfully paid tribute to, to tears.

Or I may have recalled the Monte Vista High Mr. Mustang contest, where he was the emcee. During the evening he was organized, smart, and witty with a great sense of timing and improvisation that impressed some of the fathers in the audience. In fact, he impressed them to the point that they came up and told me to have Troy see them after he had graduated from college. I should have remembered the vice principal coming up to me, telling me he was amazing. But no, I didn't think about any of it when I was first presented with the "Sell It To Me" method of child rearing. Sigh.

If I had, I would have remembered how my oldest daughter Morgan began her own version of "Sell It To Me" naturally and all of her own accord. She would ask me to go over to a neighbor's house when she was in elementary school. Around that time we had set up a computer station in our family room. As I was online designing a lesson for school or creating class lists she'd know it was not the best time to ask to do something.

She would come up and beginning rubbing my head, massaging my scalp. She used this successful methodology on her father too. She could de-stress us both to the point of near drooling. Our body language softened and we would be sliding down the chair in a pool of relaxation. At that point, she would pose the aforementioned request to go to a friend's house, or have one of hers over to ours.

Sadly, she knows her powers now and rarely, if ever uses them. Which brings me back to her sister Shelby ... just this past weekend she wielded her powers of persuasion from the "Sell It To Me" technique. It was hot. I was tired from running 12 miles earlier that morning. I envisioned relaxing at home. She needed something from Target.

After I had said no, she decided to try once more with this, "Mom, really, you know one year from now I will be away from home at college. You will need to run an errand at Target. You will miss me. You'll think back on this day and only wish that you could have the experience of being with me as we always have a good time together.

Mom, think, 'Gilmore Girls' and how Rory went off to college and left Lorelai all alone. I will even drive you there so you can relax some more. Now, don't you want to go to Target with me?"  Believe it or not, I still said no.  And then after my shower I got dressed, headed downstairs and into the garage. 
Shelby was waiting for me in the driver's seat, knowing full well that her "Sell It To Me “skills had been successful enough for a short trip to Target. And as I opened the passenger door I knew she was right. I am going to miss my little salesgirl. 

To read more of my writing, go to: http://sanramon.patch.com/users/kathy-dillingham/blog_posts

Single Parent

I am a single parent.

Now, the father of my children (my "Ex") would probably protest that fact, and indeed, has. What I think he meant, or means, is that even though we're divorced, he is still very much involved. We co-parent together from separate households. We put on a united front regarding many, if not most, issues. I can't quite bring myself to say "all" because in reality we are two very different people, who sit in very opposite camps, on an entire host of ideals. But at the core, or at the heart, we share one main vein, we love our kids and want what's best for them.

~However~

There are times when the fact that I go it alone at "home" becomes quite evident. For instance, if you are married, and your son or daughter says something cheeky within earshot of your spouse to or about you, your partner goes ape. They'll make your child apologize. They'll defend you. If you are single, you have to do it yourself. Or there is silence. It doesn't have the same impact (unless, of course, you are me and your dad is still alive and you do giant circle prayers with the entire family before you eat at every holiday or birthday and he will take that opportunity to guilt your children into treating you with more respect...at least for that evening). So what I'm sayin' is, when your spouse does that, be grateful.

There are times when and if you have more than one child (say, for instance, you have three) you will be busy wearing so many hats and you will feel like a single parent even when you are co-parenting with said "Ex" spouse. Like when all three kids are involved in sports at the same time. You have two girls on two volleyball teams and a son playing lacrosse and they practice in three different venues in three different towns. And you work full time. And you're a teacher. And you have to cook dinner, grade papers, edit homework, get gas, do laundry, be a cheerleader, disciplinarian and you really, really do live in your Honda Odyessy Minivan. This happens even when co-parents are involved (especially if they are working as a fire fighter and are at work one third of the time and even if they wanted to help, or could, they aren't able, because when they are off-duty they need to have time alone to sleep, run errands, date and more). The point being, is you are wearing all of these hats alone and not feeling, well, successful at any of them. You can't really pause to reflect upon this fact for very long because if you do, you'll likely be late to the next event or carpool duty. And it will all catch up with you at some point and you will most certainly get walking pneumonia or the flu or at the very least, fantasize about sleep (which you had thought only happened to parents of newborns but now know differently).

Or the fact that you are a single parent becomes evident with sports teams. You are the only family that has double entries on the team roster. Two households, one child. You have "snack duty" for the entire team, on the same weekend as your other children. This means you have to provide or send snack for the kids, parents, siblings and more ( it feels like half the town of where you reside). You get extra brownie points if it's healthy or organic. You have to buy it, ice it and distribute it. Alone. That is, unless you happen upon a batch of coaches who are married and hate snack duty as much as you. If you are lucky they will set a new team rule whereby everyone provides snack for their own child or children and you are finally off the hook (thank you, Martin & Laurie, during basketball season and thank you, Jim and Dave, during soccer season). Your kids will be upset with the new snack duty and to their face you'll empathize (but inside you are jumping up and down and trying really hard not to grin in front of your kids).

Single parents have to swallow their pride. You will have to ask for help on a whole host of events and situations. For instance, you have to ask for help with the previously mentioned carting to and fro sports' practices and activities because the walking pneumonia has taught you, if nothing else, that it's okay NOT driving the kids to everything. The depressing thing about that is that you will now miss the conversations post-practice (and truth be told, they are golden opportunities to eavesdrop on your pre-teen's world, a glimpse into their lives...but be forewarned, if you SAY anything, or RESPOND to anything you'll live to regret it because then future rides will cause them to resort to whispering about the juicier nuggets of knowledge because now, now they are onto the fact that you have been silently listening all these years...you just blew it).

If you are a single parent (or me, not my ex-husband) you'll also shamelessly let other people feed your kids while you're busy carting the other ones around. I still owe hundreds of dollars of groceries to at least two families. And I'm embarrassed to admit that I found out about a year after the fact, that one mom knew my son was supposed to pack his lunch. What I found out, was that even though he and I knew he was supposed to pack his (and yes, there were lunch meats, chips, apples, fruit roll-ups and more in our pantry), he frequently didn't. Well, I thought "natural consequences" would occur and he'd finally start making them again. He didn't because the mom who knew he was supposed to pack one, also knew he didn't and SHE started making him sandwiches! She packed two of them in HER son's lunch so he could feed MY son, his friend. It took me nearly two years to discover this fact. I nearly died of embarrassment. I shamelessly began to make elaborate lunches for my son near the end of his junior year, and all through his senior one, as a result. His older sister protested that I hadn't done the same for her while SHE was in high school and his younger sister reminds me each night before I go to bed that I need to make her lunch (parental guilt is the golden ticket in a kid's world mind you). That is when being a single parent makes me turn a little red-faced and my conscience leads me into getting up 15 minutes earlier or hitting the sack 15 minutes later...to make lunches.

I also am reminded, or have learned to appreciate, the fact that in my "married" life my spouse was a handyman, a good one, excellent even. I do not share that gene. I mean, I can read a manual. I can go on the Internet to learn how to fix something (like faucets that spray water, or how to change air filters and more) but it's not like I'm naturally good at it. I now have to pay someone to help me at times. Or "the daddies" we know come lend me a ladder so I can change the lightbulb in my entryway.

As a single parent I've had to teach my son how to tie his tie. Having never done that before, I went to the Internet yet again & printed out directions (See? I CAN follow directions!). This goes well enough for a few years until my son realizes if he leaves the tie pre-tied on a hanger it will save a few steps the next time. As we sit there and work over that slender piece of fabric around his neck, I feel that familiar lump in my throat yet. I am touched that we are sharing this moment, that my son displays no ill-will toward me and that it is a tender moment that I doubt I would have shared with him if I was still married (but then again, I'm reminded that dad might have been at the firehouse and perhaps we would have had that chance after all).

One other thing about being a single parent in a rather affluent area, is the anxiety that is produced when you go out with groups of families (at least at the beginning of divorce when incomes are divided and you are living within your burn rate and not wanting to acquire any debt). Group meals out are expensive. You try to gently tell your kids to order the cheaper items on the menu, you forgo drinks and generally try to enjoy the evening and conversation and joy of being with everyone (while in the back of your mind you are hoping you have enough cash in your wallet to contribute your fair share). You'll know it will be okay because you have skipped dining out for the past few weeks and generally live quite frugally. The bill will arrive and some other dad will say he has your portion covered. And your eyes will well up and your heart will be touched again as you learn that for this point in your life you have had to learn to receive, rather than give. That is a very hard lesson to learn but one single parents do. Again and again and again.

In countless ways, in numerous places and with scads of people, this town, the schools my children have attended, the sports they have played, the coaches, teachers, family and friends have shown this single parent that it really truly does "take a village" to raise a child. Or co-parent. I have learned, that being a single parent is humbling, exhausting and embarrassing. It is the toughest job I've ever had. And the most rewarding.

"Blanking Blank!"

The details of why I did the unthinkable elude me. I only know my oldest daughter Morgan was being quite snippy and rude to her two siblings and myself. Usually I was pretty good at deflecting or ignoring the comments so as to make the morning’s transport in the mini-van as painless as possible. But not this day…

Most weekday mornings began quite early, in order for Morgan and Troy to get to school by the 7:00AM start time for their Zero Period classes. Frequently there were conflicts amidst the crazy chaos, as we all got ready. This included Shelby and I as well, as we needed to get to the elementary school where I taught at the time.

I do remember this particular morning being worse than our normal “bad” mornings. I also remember I could not tune out her rude behavior and comments that day. Instead I got more and more irritated. We were all biting our tongues. Finally, I snapped. I told her she was acting like a “blanking-blank” (insert terrible words). She stared at me in shock and the other two kids also froze. I walked upstairs and gave myself a time-out.

While in my room, I began to berate my horrible behavior and knew I needed to quickly make amends. By this time the kids were all in the van silently waiting for me. That in and of itself was rare, so one can see saying, “blanking-blank” was upsetting for all of us. As I entered the van I began my impassioned speech. I said I was sorry. I said even though Morgan had been rude and I was upset with her behavior, what I had said was inexcusable. I apologized. I said I was sorry again. I asked her, and them, to forgive me.

When I went to school I walked into my classroom and cried. I felt like a failure. Here I was, a teacher, mentor, child advocate and I had just told my daughter she was acting like a “blanking-blank.” It is all I could think of all day.

After school, I picked up Morgan and Troy at the previously appointed location. When they hopped into the mini-van, I brought up my behavior from earlier that day to them again. I told them how I thought about it all day and apologized once more for using the “blanking blank” comment. The kids all said they forgave me and I told them that I loved them.

At that point Shelby was sitting in the far backseat in the van. She quietly said, “Mom, can I say a bad word now?” I can’t put words in her mouth but I think she felt that because her mom had been given a free pass to forgiveness for swearing perhaps she could test the waters of cuss words for herself. I told her she could say it because she had asked, we were the only ones in the van and because no one would hear.

“Stupid,” she replied.

“Shut-up” was next. Her sister and brother began to snicker.

“Asshole. Damnit. Fuck,” were next.

It is a terrible thing to admit but Morgan and Troy began laughing and soon I was too, much to my chagrin.

Troy, sensing the opportunity for further amusement from his siblings and myself, suggested we see who could come up with the longest sentence using the most swear words. All three attempted, and I’m more than a little embarrassed to admit that by the end of the car ride we were laughing hysterically. We were all in shock at our potty mouths and our newly constructed sentences.

We entered the house and Troy ran over to the computer to put on the catchy song at the time, and we all began to bounce and dance like Tiger from Winnie the Pooh. We all were laughing, dancing and enjoying ourselves for the remainder of the song.

After it was over I walked upstairs and headed into the kitchen to cook dinner. I knew, even then, that I would never forget that day. And, I believe, my kids won’t either. They will probably remember I said something terrible. But what I hope that what they will walk away from that day is this: I had made a mistake. I apologized and asked for forgiveness. Hopefully, they will remember that there was still love and laughter while we were dancing together and the music blared. Hopefully, they will also learn that once in a while, even on a horrible parenting day, that with sincere apologies and forgiveness, love can prevail.