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This website created and maintained by Hopeworks 'N Camden
When I was in school I had a
whole routine for tests. I had the magic pen,
the special sweater, the ritual third cup of coffee — all calculated to get me the
best possible scores. I felt pretty silly when I graduated to motherhood and
realized that there’s a test every single day. Every minute of every day we’re
judging, or being judged by, someone or something. And it’s so much worse than
in school, because it’s not just our kids but our parenting — active and passive,
knowing and unwitting — and ourselves being tested.
When our kids do something bad we’re right there to accept the failing
grade; if we’re a little slow, there are always volunteers ready to steer us toward
it. When our kids do something right, or just ARE somebody right, the pointing
fingers all disappear, including our own. When the baby wakes at night, everyone
wants to tell you what you’re doing wrong. When he finally sleeps through, no
one (including the baby) tells you it’s because you got it right. My first son
inherited my big, clumsy ears, and I felt so bad for him; when I looked into his
gorgeous chocolate eyes I forgot to think, “Wow, those are my eyes.”