Mom, did you ever smoke pot?

My daughter asked me last night about drugs, apparently they are covering this in the grade 4 year-end grade health class unit along with puberty. I don't envy that teacher.

She asked me if I had ever smoked marijuana, a word she says sounds pretty and she likes to spell. (no spellcheck for it, by the way)

I told her had. I told her that when this kind of thing becomes part of her world - and it will - that if someones asks her to try it or buy it, she is to come to us first. 

We discussed what it does, why folks do drugs, the risks involved and I also explained to her that it is unlikely she will ever be able to do any drug without my knowing about it. She will always be better off coming to me first than having me find out after the fact.

She knows this is probably true. To date she has not told a lie, pinched a loonie or forgotten a truth that I didn’t figure out pretty quick. Sure she’s only ten I haven't been truly tested yet but given my teens I can’t imagine she can come up with anything I didn’t perfect if not invent. I have managed to outguess them so many times that my hope is they will always believe I can.

For example; they got marshmallow shooting guns recently from a friend. They are a blast. You load slightly stale mini marshmallows into the magazine with a bit of talcum powder and you have smoking bullets. Lots of fun. After we had some laughs I sat them down: 

“Listen to me carefully. If you ever even think of loading a rock or marble into these I will run over the guns with my car and break them into a million pieces. Got it?"

 "How did you know we might think about that Mom?”

“You forget I was once a kid. If I had had this gun and run out of marshmallows I would have looked around for things the same size, like rocks or marbles, to see how far will they would go or if they might break a window. So I am telling you now, wanna keep these great toys? Only use marshmallows.”

They have been regularly schooled in I-was-your-age-once lessons and know I can out- think them. My mom could never have predicted what I did as a teen because the 70’s had zero in common with the 30’s. But what they can do now differs little from what I did do then. It'll be hard to pull the wool over these once permanently blood-shot eyes.

This cocky confidence in my ability to outwit, outlast and outplay my kids may come back to snuff out my torch - but I doubt it.

My Approach to Sex = My Son's Approach to Reading

If your child doesn’t like to read, has to be cajoled to pick up a book and the home reading was a fight throughout the school year then a two month break from it all might be just the break both kid and parents need.

But before you take that break, you should know about the Summer Reading Slide. 

Children who do not read over the summer will lose more than two months of reading achievement. 

My Kid Has Gone to the Dogs

Four months ago our school, St. Dominic Fine Arts (great school), announced they would be doing a production of 101 Dalmatians. I talked Clancy into trying out. Everyone was cast. 

Pepper

She is one of the Dalmatians, Pepper. She has songs and dances to do with her cast mates and she has four lines. The rehearsal schedule was long but was unavoidable. A cast of 98 means work and everybody did lots of it. Teachers, kids, volunteers...they all stayed after school at least three days a week for an hour for about three months. While it may have been arduous at times it will no doubt pay off.

Clancy is shy in some situations and being on stage would qualify as one of those. Unlike her brother does not crave the spotlight. She is way out of her comfort zone with this play thing. After a tough week of rehearsals and other after school commitments she got fed up and said: "I'm only doing this because you wanted me to." 

We all know how lousy that feels, when we end up doing something from time to time only because someone else wanted us to. I knew she was likely plotting to kill me and I couldn't blame her. Part of me wanted to give her the option to bail so I didn't have to listen to the complaining but the smarter part of me wanted to see her get through it all and at least not hate it. And my guilt kept me focused, I had let her quit stuff before, I was going to see that it did not happen again.

They had their first of two performances tonight (we will see it tomorrow night) in the theatre at a local high school. Her pal's parents drove her there and brought her home. I wondered what she'd be like when she got home. Maybe soaked in flop sweat and saying; "Phew. Glad that's over. One down one to go." or soaked in tears and declaring; "It was awful! I forgot my lines! I want to die."

Or would be it be something unexpected?

She came skipping and smiling up the driveway declaring: "It was so great! I wish I could do this every night!" It was so much netter than I could have hoped.

When kids do well in class they feel good but they also know they have to do it. When they excel in a sport and enjoy going it's because it's a sport they love. But when they do something that scared them, that they didn't have to do and it makes them feel 10 feet tall, well, that changes perspective - ours and theirs. 

Most importantly for us tonight, hers, of herself.

She may have done it "only because her mom wanted her to" but next time she'll do it because she wants to.

Is the Best School Behind Door Number 1? Or number 2? 3?

Over coffee this week a friend was telling me about what a gong show it will be next year getting their three kids back and forth to school. It was dizzying. They need a dispatcher and full-time drivers to make it work. God forbid it snows and the roads are bad.

Their youngest will be driven to preschool two mornings a week, the middle one is being walked to kindergarten at the local school and the eldest, going into grade 3, has been driven to a charter school halfway across town for the last two years. She loves the place, it’s a good fit. Both parents are thrilled with the education she gets there.

However, the whole family has a better chance of staying sane if the two older girls go to the school around the corner. Husband and wife are not on the same page yet and they are under the gun because the local school is bursting at the seams and they have to register this afternoon or lose an option.

Will every kid survive if the family choses the most convenient plan? Yes.

Will mom and dad question their decision if the eldest daughter is the least bit unhappy or bored with the new school? You bet.

This year is not even over and next year is a concern for a lot of families.

The problem is we have too many choices and as a result suffer buyer’s remorse about everything now whether it’s a flat screen TV, coffee maker or a school.

Too many choice creates misery - this article drives the point home.

I was trying to imagine what my mom was thinking at this time of year when I was a kid and it was likely very little as there no choices to consider. My brothers were grown and gone, she didn’t work so I suppose she was looking forward to having me around. She and I spent the summer doing anything but  thinking about the next school. I knew where I was going, where my bus stop was, who my teacher would be and what kids would be in my class. It just was.

By the end of August I was getting a bit excited to go back, my mom would take me out to get new shoes and let down the hem of last year’s tunic if need be. We would buy a new shiny pencil case that smelled like all of Barbie’s plastic accessories (the rest of supplies would be doled out by the school) No backpack, no lunch bags (we came home for lunch) Off we went.

But now we have sports, science, art, language, tech, charter, private and gender split schools to chose from. Maybe we are looking too hard for alternatives to stimulate our kids when they should be learning to do that for themselves. To find their own (legal) cure for boredom, live through a year with a-not-so-great-teacher, wobbly desk, annoying class partner and stinky bus ride. Get a taste of real life. We probably should. But, we do have choices and when other parents are making moves we can’t help but wonder if we should too.

Fact is that alternative schools and curriculum are the byproduct of the ever-evolving nature of what’s available to learn, when to learn it, how to learn it and the ability to find and feed passions early in life. If there’s a need or a want someone is going to fill it and making money doing it.

The bottom line is this: If the school system was doing a good job keeping pace with change there wouldn’t be choices over which to angst. No one drives their kid across town or pays thousands for private school if they don’t have to...unless they are stinkin’ rich or bat shit crazy.

Wake Me When My Daughter is 20

End of the innocence. Mine. Bus pass pictures taken on the first day of school grade 7 to 11 - the high school years in Quebec. 

I came in still a child having been in elementary school just two months before. It appears I didn't change too much too fast that until grade 10 when it looks like I might have had a wee puff before the picture was taken and then who knows what's going on in the last picture ... Cynical? Menstrual? Sad it's my last year on the kiddie ride of life? Thrilled that it is? 

If the change in my signature is any indication I was a different girl every year. But, I didn't give my parents as rough a ride as some who know me may think. Those years were good - for the most part - and I was a still a virgin for another 6 months after that last picture was taken.

I had a few part time jobs, lots of friends, enjoyed my tokes but never bothered with anything harder, and while there was heartache and confusion the only thing that really stands out is the nickname I had to live with almost all the way through: Flatsy Patsy. No boobs, that was my lot. Could have been worse for sure. 

But that was back then. When the phone was attached to the wall, pot grew out of the ground and porn wasn't something we'd see for another decade. Divorce was rare, moms didn't work and no one worried about bad men in panel vans.

We have a daughter and she is changing, she still has another two years of elementary school. But those two years will be gone in a blink of an eye and with it all the stuff of childhood.

She's changing, no doubt about it, but so far so good. She’s not moody or cranky, petulant or obstinate (yet) but she has begun to feel emotions and confusion to new depths.  She's wise and cautious and she’s beginning to do what we have been preparing her for - stepping away, just a little. 

But at the same time she is every bit a kid and she still believes, wholeheartedly, in fairies. I am loathe to have these remaining innocent years sullied with discussions about the less magical side of life. We make her aware without giving her details, frankly and I am in no mood to have to venture forth. I want to go back. I want to go back far enough to stuff her back into my womb. Forever.

Can't. So instead we discuss danger in tender terms and endeavour to help her - and her younger brother - develop the skills they need to ease into the world that awaits. Try to take it one step at time while their environment relentlessly pulls them in at a rate that we can barely clock. 

I am not looking forward to this next decade of parenting. 

I pretty much sailed through my teens and I am ill prepared to help navigate the seas ahead for my daughter - assuming she even lets me aboard. We are headed for uncharted waters rife with sharks and stingers and undertow. 

These first ten years? Loved all of ‘em. I remember sleepless nights and puke fests thinking; “One day I will long for this kind of soothable, washable problem.” And here we are getting close to them.

Heart break, hormones, cyber safety, text anxiety, smelly pits and acne angst is The Dark Woods around the corner and my daughter, though still frolicking in the Enchanted Forest, has one toe out on the troll bridge. Once she crosses over she’ll never get back to fairyland. 

And all the Good Queen power I have had at my fingertips to repair and calm, will be gone, as will my council when I unwittingly morph into her pathetic court jester, my very existence enough to embarrass and shame her into silence and my fix-it-with-a-kiss spells will only make things worse where once they had the magic of Merlin.

Someone pass the sleeping potion and wake me when she's 20.