19 posts tagged “sleeper”

"Well, if you want to cheer me up, you could always buy me something. That's just good parenting."

–Sleeper, age 17 

Before I became a parent, I had wonderful expectations and visions of family life that were soft around the edges, emotive, and highly idealized. My head was full of idyllic scenarios: quiet moments spent in the rocking chair with baby, days at the park soaking up sunshine with happy toddlers, countless explorations and adventures in the world of learning, fun-filled family vacations, evenings at the dining room table talking and laughing, and so on. I believed a parent's job was akin to that of a sculptor. I would 'raise' my children, shaping their futures with caring hands and guiding them to achieve their potential. I predicted that I would love my children dearly.

Once my boys arrived, I discovered that the reality of parenting was something else entirely. Much of what I'd imagined came to pass, but usually in different ways and with rougher edges. The peaceable, fuzzy world I'd envisioned was replaced by something bigger, more chaotic, and harder to steer. Unsurprisingly, I do love my sons dearly. In fact, if anything, I had underestimated how fiercely I would love them and how willingly I would fashion my life around them. I didn't foresee how deep my protective instincts would run, how intensely I would feel their pain and disappointments, and how strong the desire would be to clear their path of obstacles and struggle. I certainly didn't know how unrealistic my ideas about raising kids would turn out to be.

Now, as a mother of teenagers, it is clear to me that parental influence is a much less effective force than I'd expected. Throughout my sons' lives, I've tried to model the principles, behavior, and life choices I think are best, and I truly hope that a good deal of it will appeal and take root. But ultimately, each child is, and always has been, his own person. They were never putty in my hands. Each boy's unique personality has been in evidence since day one. They've had the same parents, home, rules and standards, schooling...same everything, yet they've always been as distinct and different as any two people could be. The choices they make reflect their individuality and their essential natures. With each passing year they've become more confident and independent and my advice and opinions have carried less weight. I've never stopped offering guidance and affection, but I no longer delude myself that I'm actually shaping who they are or where they'll end up. For the next few years, I'm just along for the ride, white-knuckled and wondering if we'll all get where we're going in one piece.

Yes, I knew I'd love them. It's the easiest thing in the world to do. It also makes everything harder.

...nothing like you!

"When I have kids, I won't be like you. I'm going to be a cool dad. A fun dad. No stupid rules. My kids are going to love me. I'll put Poison Control in the speed dial and just let 'em go. We'll have parties. I'll be their friend. I'll take 'em to strip clubs."

"Hmmmm. I wonder how your wife will feel about that."

"She won't care. She'll work there. Yeah. C'mon kids! Let's go see your mom at work."

Charming.

On my weaker days, it's tempting to throw in the towel and embrace the 'do whatever you want' brand of un-parenting (sans the strip club and pole-dancing spouse, perhaps). It would certainly be easier. It's exhausting trying keep my balance on that fine line between too much parenting and too little. Sure, I want my kids to develop independence and self-reliance, and of course I want them to make choices and learn from their mistakes. But at the same time, I want to keep them safe and help them steer clear of mistakes that fall into the brutal, life-altering category. I want them to be happy, enjoy life, and consider me a friend. But my first priority is to be a good parent, not a pal. It's kind of a drag to be uncool all the time, but too many of the 'cool' things seem like a truly bad idea to me now that I'm 'old' and 'square'. I don't want to have too many rules, but I think having too few is even worse. I want to trust them, but rebellion and stealth seem to be teenage raisons d'être. Yeah. Who knew raising kids would be so tough? (Other than my parents.) I'd like an instruction manual, please.

Sleeper and Antic will soon begin a new term at school. While my boys aren't heavily into open contemplation at this age, I think most students experience the start of a new term, at least subconsciously, as something of a fresh start. Ah, but what about cumulative GPA?

People treasure and celebrate the idea of new beginnings. There are many examples, not the least of which is New Year's with its parties, countdowns, and resolutions. A brand-spanking-new year awaits us on the first page of every calendar, providing the opportunity to wipe the slate clean and make changes.

But that clean slate is, for the most part, a comforting illusion. Change is certainly possible. Don't get me wrong. But there's no denying the past. Each passing day makes an indelible mark on us and shapes who we are and the future path before us. (I believe this is as true for societies as it is for individuals.)

The student entering a new term or a new year lugs his prior performance along, for better or worse. And so it goes ever afterward. Education, resume, partnerships and transactions, credit score, voting record, medical history, net worth. Parents, children, loved ones, rivals, bliss, despair, trust, betrayal, give and take. Every choice and experience, accomplishment or failure, adds to the tally somehow, internally or externally.

The past stubbornly refuses to be erased, yet we rub at it, ever hopeful, ready to lay down more pleasing lines. The new year / new job / new spouse / new home / new you will be so much better than what came before.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing. I suppose it's what keeps us going. 

Me:  Sleeper, do you think you could find your copy of Night? Antic's going to need it soon. Miss Temornin mentioned they're going to read it as a class assignment.

Sleeper:  Yeah, sure I'll look for it. I dunno where it is, though.

Antic, highly exasperated:  Why are we always reading books in that class?!

Me & Sleeper, in unison:  "It's an English class!"

Silly kid.

I've given it a good deal of thought lately, and I've concluded that I don't live what I'd describe as a highly bloggable life. And I couldn't be happier about it.

I am content. My life is noteworthy for its lack of conflict. (Unless you count near-daily scuffles with the teenagers, but really...) I am happy in the relationships that I have, and those that I've left behind. All childhood traumas were effectively examined and put to rest long ago. I share my life with a wonderful man and a couple of kids I genuinely like and enjoy spending time with. I'm fortunate in my family and friends. I'm well suited to the work I do. I have the time and the opportunity to pursue my hobbies.

I almost hate to spell it out like this for fear of bringing down a curse.

At any rate, none of this makes for riveting blog posts. My day-to-day existence is quite lacking in drama, chaos, and adventure. And while there are many fine writers who can post on just about anything and make it interesting, I'm not among them. (Note to self: is there any possible way to add interest to this post about being basically uninteresting?)

This is what I'm sure of: if a boring blog is the price to be paid for the life I live, I'll gladly pay it.

Sleeper went on a trip recently, and he brought back this gorgeous, hand-painted fan for me. He is such a thoughtful boy and knows me so well. Isn't it lovely? A perfect gift.

Somehow, blogging and AKAs came up at home the other day. The conversation went something like this:

Me: "You're all practically famous on my blog, you know. Especially you."

Antic:  "Whaaaat? Why am I famous?"

Me: "Mostly for using your cell phone from the bathroom to let me know you needed toilet paper."

Antic: "Great. Thanks, Mom. I guess it WAS pretty funny, though."

Me: "It was. And don't worry, hon, it's not like people actually know you: I've given you each an alias. Dad's is Tall, yours is Antic, and your brother's is Sleeper."

Tall: "Ha. I think you should've called us Fat Ass, Rebel, and Gamer."

Me: "Ooooh, you're mean. Funny, but mean. I think I'll stick with what I've got."

Sleeper: "What do you call him?" (pointing to the cat)

Me: "Um. Well, just 'the cat', actually. I haven't given him a name."

Sleeper: "You should call him Karl. Yeah, Karl. That's so cool. Hey! We should change his name to Karl, for real."

Antic: "Yeah. Karl's an awesome name for a cat!"

Me: "You can't change his name! He knows his name, you guys."

Sleeper: "Nah. We can change it. Watch!"
He goes and gets a package of cat treats.
"C'mere, Karl. Want a treat? Mmmmm......"

Guess who runs right over for a treat? Yup. Meow. Everyone cracks up.

Me: "Stop! You're going to confuse the poor guy."

Sleeper: "Nah. Karl, want to play? Here's your ball. Go get it, Karl."

Naturally, the insouciant critter bounds off after it. (It's his favorite game - he'll chase and fetch his bouncy ball until he's exhausted.) Tall is busting a gut. I don't think it's healthy to laugh that hard.

Antic: "See, Mom, we can change his name."

Poor Karl.

Antic's 'girlfriend' got mad at him for flirting with other girls. I asked him if she was still upset.

"Nah. She can't stay mad at me."

"You sound just like your dad." Tall is grinning at this, because it's true.

"Yeah. She was like 'I'm really mad at you' and then 5 minutes later everything was fine. I'm irresistible."

"And humble. In fact, I think humility is one of your best qualities."

"I think sarcasm is one of your best qualities, Mom."

"Damn," Sleeper says, "I was just going to say that."

We saw 300 over the weekend. Interestingly, critics have taken issue with some of the things I liked best about the film, especially the surrealistic feel of the scenes and action sequences. (I'm also a sucker for a Scots accent, even in Sparta.)

In the car afterward, our discussion went off on a tangent.

Antic: "Is the guy that played Xerxes actually like 8 feet?"

Tall: "No. They made it look that way with camera angles, special effects."

Sleeper: "That was some voice, huh? Not what I'd expected."

Me: "Yeah! It was a surprise, all right. Didn't you just love all his bangles? I have to say, though, I found the rings in his cheek seriously distracting. I really wanted to grab a couple and pluck them out."

Sleeper's reply, in a thundering god-king timbre: "I'm a generous god, but you're starting to push my buttons."

Dead-on impression. Totally cracked us all up.