Two hundred miles from home, I opened the rear door of my car, peered inside and grimaced. Two seventh-grade textbooks and an extra-credit assignment lay strewn on the backseat. My preteen boys and I had spent the afternoon preparing for my time away. I'd packed bags. They'd finished homework. But I had failed to double check the car after they unloaded their stuff.
Diving into problem-solving mode, I called my sister. She agreed to help my con complete the work again. But when I spoke with her after carpool the next morning, she'd found the completed assignment on a bedroom floor. I fumed as I considered an appropriate punishment. How could he have forgotten twice?
I sat on a park bench while a familiar anger boiled, knotting my insides. As a widowed mom, I tried hard to keep it all together - probably too hard. And when a school obligation slipped through the cracks, I often reduced my son's self worth with a furious glance.
Breathing the cool, morning air, I remembered the countless times my son's thoughtful words had helped me through hard times. He handled his role as the oldest son in a single-parent family with grace and respect.
I realized maybe he had been concentrating on greeting family, hence forgetting to unload his book bag. I also imagined him reaching for the missing page and fighting his own frustration. The unintentional mishap would cloud his day. He didn't' need a thunderous response from me.
My anger suddenly seemed silly - my perfectionism and pride run amuck. I'd pushed him to complete the extra work, hoping to bump his B to an A.
Am I really not satisfied with a B?
My sister later reported that my son worked hard on other assignments that night, hoping to avoid restrictions from me. I smiled and drove home the next day with peace. Instead of a reprimand, me son got a warm hug and a second change. With three projects due in two weeks, he had an opportunity to live what he'd learned.
I needed another a chance too.
Schreer, Susan. "Parents Like Us." Tweenages Jan/Feb 2006: 7.