Ever since Daniel started Kindergarten, he was taught that the first thing he had to do as soon as he got home from school, immediately after he stepped through the door and put his backpack down, was to sit down and do his homework. Anyone who knows me, knows that I may bark a good deal, but at the end of the day, these boys know how to manipulate me like silly putty, and get away with murder. Homework, though, is the one area where cajoling, begging, or whining will produce absolutely no results. When it comes to homework and schoolwork in general, I am like the Rock of Gibraltar, unmovable. So much so, that for the longest time, he thought it was "the law". I did not disabuse him of his belief, but eventually he figured out the truth. Too late, though. By now, it is a matter of habit. The poor kid does it automatically, without thinking. He comes home, he sits down, he does his homework, period.
I have wondered on occasion if I am too inflexible when it comes to school work. Am I being too strict? Am I pushing him too hard? Have I praised him enough? I would like to think that, rather than just pushing him to study, I have been instilling in him the desire to reach for excellence, to push his own limits and seek what is beyond, to always believe that he can do better. The one thing his father and I have been very careful to stress to him is that natural talent is a good thing to have -- and all too easy to waste. We have made sure he understands that success belongs to the one who seeks it, not the one who thinks it is his birth right. Smarts will only take you so far. Effort and dedication are the golden ticket, and that's where he needs to keep his sight on.
So, in a way, I cannot say I am surprised about the amount of work he puts into everything he does. If he likes something, he will go after it, with a passion that is a bit intimidating in someone so young. Everyone knows he wants to be a professional baseball player. He has said so to anyone within hearing range that will sit there long enough for him to tell them. I don't know if that will be in his cards, but one thing is certain: that dream hasn't changed in 4 years, and his determination to be better, play better, learn more hasn't wavered. The funny thing is, I always thought that this kind of dedication was reserved to baseball only. But then came basketball, and his determination to get better was exactly the same. We're now swimming, which in and of itself is an amazing feat for a kid that just last summer was still afraid to go too far from the edge of the pool. He knows he's nowhere near close to being one of the good ones, but he's already committed to getting better. Much, much better.
Academically speaking, if I think back on this past school year, I realize that I have been loosening the reigns quite a bit. I don't have to be on top of him to do things. He's doing them of his own accord. He has had an extraordinary school year (even if he cannot, for the life of him, keep quiet), with next to no involvement on my part, and that is exactly what I was aiming at with all those talks. The ones I thought were going in one ear and out the other. As it turns out, something must have stuck, because he works hard, very, very hard to get those results. And they are amazing results.
I don't know if I have praised him enough. I am certainly extremely proud of him. If I were to be any prouder, I may very well burst. But I do have a feeling I may have underpraised him a bit. I am just so weary of the constant praising kids get these days for just about anything. How are they going to learn when something is actually worth the effort, if they keep hearing "good job, Johnny" for doing things that should be second nature and require no effort? I dunno, I guess I just don't want him to stop striving for more.
So, in case I have done a poor job at showing my child how grateful I am to be his mother, here it goes (in hopes that he will someday read his mother's ramblings):
Daniel, you are a blessing to your daddy and me. We are so proud of you. Not just of your accomplishments, although those certainly make our days and bring a thousand smiles to our faces, but of the person you ARE and the promise of the man you are growing up to be. We love your passion and your dedication. We admire your humble hard work. But most of all, we absolutely revel in your kindness, your good nature and your compassion. With kids like you, this world has a tremendous amount of hope and a very bright future. You're a beacon of light, and we are grateful to the good Lord that He saw fit that we would be the lucky pair to guide your steps.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Friday, January 20, 2012
It is Darn Time to Start Showing a Little Appreciation, Dagnabbit!!
It is 2:30 am, when I finally shut down the computer and the lights and head up to bed. I have been sitting at this computer for over almost 18 hours straight working on someone else's concept of an urgent matter. Some sort of witness statement that was needed for some multimillionaire international case that is none of my concern. That is in addition to all the other deadlines I already had. Except for trips to the bathroom, to pick up the youngest monster at school, and dinner at the local McDonald's, I was virtually glued to the chair.
By 6 PM I was in panicky mode. Oldest monster has a Cub Scout pack meeting at 7 PM and I still have over 2 hours of this danged transcript to go. That is, in actual working time, approximately 6 hours of work. After hanging up the phone three times on the husband (sorry honey), who will not make it on time to take said son to meeting, I call one of the other moms, who in true friend fashion, offers to take, not just the oldest child in question, but also the youngest menace. She obviously didn't know what she would be getting herself into, so I thanked her for the offer, but declined to send said youngest menace along, even though it would have made the next couple of hours much easier on me.
By midnight, I am fuming. I had expected this particular project to take no more than 6 hours, but at this point, I have already accumulated 10 hours of work. I am tired, hungry, and cranky --in true toddler fashion-- and cannot see why on God's green earth I got myself into this mess. I am so mad! Mad at me, for accepting a job that, deep down I knew was going to be a bear, because it involved fixing other people's mistakes, and that ALWAYS gets me riled up. Mad at the other translators who put so little effort into the project the in the first place and now I was left to clean up their mess. Mad at my clients, for having the gall to think so highly of my skills that they needed to ask me to do work for them. (Really, who the heck cares if it is, indeed, paid work at rush rates?!? ) I am fruitcaking overloaded, and I.can't.take.one.more.job!!
After 4 hours of broken sleep, I scramble to get everyone up and ready to go. My eyes feel heavy and I would like nothing else than to go back under the covers and sleep until noon. But we all know that's not an option. Child needs to be at school at 8, and today is my turn to carpool, so...
As I am driving back from dropping off youngest creature and friend at their school, I can't help but notice what a beautiful morning it was. Cold, but beautiful. After the adrenaline of the morning rush subsides, it is actually quite a serene trip back home. It is in a sunny morning and I am driving through rolling fields that despite winter, still manage to show vestiges of green. Not having to be anywhere, I start to relax a little, and the mind starts meandering around, and little by little, the rational, civilized part of me starts gaining ground and replacing Mrs. Hyde once again.
At this point, I realize how very ungrateful I am. I am sinfully ungrateful, and in such a realization, I feel painfully ashamed.
Normally on Fridays I work as a volunteer translating for the local food pantry. Today, mercifully, I have the day off. But as I think about what I would be doing any other Friday, I came to the realization that the last 12 agonizing hours of work provided me with enough money to cover, say, about 3 of these families electric bills. Every Friday I come face to face with families struggling to get some of their most basic needs covered. Food, shelter, health, and sometimes, just someone who will listen to their ordeals. Most times, these families have fallen on hard times due to unemployment. The economy is improving entirely too slowly for some of these folks. And here I am, complaining because I have --get this-- too much work. Shame on me.
I also realized that, for as tiresome and irritating as this particular project was, I found myself laughing out loud more than once at the stuff I heard coming from that tape. There is no denying that there is entertainment value in litigation. And, really, under normal circumstances, without the rush, I truly love what I do. No other job on earth ever gave me this much pleasure and pride. I like that my clients think I am the bomb. I like that I KNOW I am doing a great job. I like that I actually have the choice to take it or leave it, if I so please, because I am my own boss. Explain to me, then, why am I complaining?
Let's review, shall we? I am lucky to have paid work that allows me and my family to live comfortably and without the uncertainty of where our next meal will come from, or whether we will have a place to stay next month. My work is satisfying and meaningful, and more importantly, it makes me laugh. Well, if those are not good enough reasons to be grateful, I don't know what are.
So, from now on, when the hours grow long, and the outlook is gloomy, I will try to remember that the good Lord has actually blessed me in more ways than I am able to count…. And, fudge it! It is darn time that I show a little appreciation!! (Thank you, God).
By 6 PM I was in panicky mode. Oldest monster has a Cub Scout pack meeting at 7 PM and I still have over 2 hours of this danged transcript to go. That is, in actual working time, approximately 6 hours of work. After hanging up the phone three times on the husband (sorry honey), who will not make it on time to take said son to meeting, I call one of the other moms, who in true friend fashion, offers to take, not just the oldest child in question, but also the youngest menace. She obviously didn't know what she would be getting herself into, so I thanked her for the offer, but declined to send said youngest menace along, even though it would have made the next couple of hours much easier on me.
By midnight, I am fuming. I had expected this particular project to take no more than 6 hours, but at this point, I have already accumulated 10 hours of work. I am tired, hungry, and cranky --in true toddler fashion-- and cannot see why on God's green earth I got myself into this mess. I am so mad! Mad at me, for accepting a job that, deep down I knew was going to be a bear, because it involved fixing other people's mistakes, and that ALWAYS gets me riled up. Mad at the other translators who put so little effort into the project the in the first place and now I was left to clean up their mess. Mad at my clients, for having the gall to think so highly of my skills that they needed to ask me to do work for them. (Really, who the heck cares if it is, indeed, paid work at rush rates?!? ) I am fruitcaking overloaded, and I.can't.take.one.more.job!!
After 4 hours of broken sleep, I scramble to get everyone up and ready to go. My eyes feel heavy and I would like nothing else than to go back under the covers and sleep until noon. But we all know that's not an option. Child needs to be at school at 8, and today is my turn to carpool, so...
As I am driving back from dropping off youngest creature and friend at their school, I can't help but notice what a beautiful morning it was. Cold, but beautiful. After the adrenaline of the morning rush subsides, it is actually quite a serene trip back home. It is in a sunny morning and I am driving through rolling fields that despite winter, still manage to show vestiges of green. Not having to be anywhere, I start to relax a little, and the mind starts meandering around, and little by little, the rational, civilized part of me starts gaining ground and replacing Mrs. Hyde once again.
At this point, I realize how very ungrateful I am. I am sinfully ungrateful, and in such a realization, I feel painfully ashamed.
Normally on Fridays I work as a volunteer translating for the local food pantry. Today, mercifully, I have the day off. But as I think about what I would be doing any other Friday, I came to the realization that the last 12 agonizing hours of work provided me with enough money to cover, say, about 3 of these families electric bills. Every Friday I come face to face with families struggling to get some of their most basic needs covered. Food, shelter, health, and sometimes, just someone who will listen to their ordeals. Most times, these families have fallen on hard times due to unemployment. The economy is improving entirely too slowly for some of these folks. And here I am, complaining because I have --get this-- too much work. Shame on me.
I also realized that, for as tiresome and irritating as this particular project was, I found myself laughing out loud more than once at the stuff I heard coming from that tape. There is no denying that there is entertainment value in litigation. And, really, under normal circumstances, without the rush, I truly love what I do. No other job on earth ever gave me this much pleasure and pride. I like that my clients think I am the bomb. I like that I KNOW I am doing a great job. I like that I actually have the choice to take it or leave it, if I so please, because I am my own boss. Explain to me, then, why am I complaining?
Let's review, shall we? I am lucky to have paid work that allows me and my family to live comfortably and without the uncertainty of where our next meal will come from, or whether we will have a place to stay next month. My work is satisfying and meaningful, and more importantly, it makes me laugh. Well, if those are not good enough reasons to be grateful, I don't know what are.
So, from now on, when the hours grow long, and the outlook is gloomy, I will try to remember that the good Lord has actually blessed me in more ways than I am able to count…. And, fudge it! It is darn time that I show a little appreciation!! (Thank you, God).
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