You say you want an evolution ... yeah, yeah

I was out with friends tonight and the subject of college came up.  Several of them have high school seniors who are looking at colleges, and they were discussing the process.  Then we talked about how things had changed, how when we were at the same stage our parents never went to look at colleges with us, never made lists or went through the process of how to finance it.

Isn't that weird?  How can things change so drastically in the passage of 20-plus years?

There has to be some clue, some small bit of information, that lurks within this equation.  I know that sounds like a ridiculous statement ... but seriously.  It's like the word that is on the tip of your tongue ... I want to say it.  I just ... I just can't.  When we were seniors in high school, did we not have as many options?  Was it not as mainstream to look at lists of colleges?  I had friends who did, certainly, but I had just as many who didn't.   These days, if you are going to go to college, then it's a BIG DEAL.   It's not about applying to a college, it's about finding the perfect college for you, and the only way to do that is to visit loads of them.

When I was in high school, I was that kid that didn't really fit in.   Not socially -- I had that piece down okay, just academically.  My parents wanted me to go to a private school, but I was stronger than they were:  And I said no.

There is no way to replay this situation.  Would I have been better off?  Would I have "done something spectacular with my life" if I had taken a different path?  What path would that have been?

Probably.  I remember an acting class in high school where we were told to improv -- and I just let go -- I let my personality and energy take over and ... and I performed.  And I can still see that teacher's face -- she was shocked.  And then the class ended, and she said to me, well, that was something.

And then she never said anything again.  Nor did she encourage me, and so I closed up.  And I guess that's who I was at the time -- that person looking for recognition.  Oh wait, I was like any person -- any person who was vulnerable, a teenager who opened up.  Geesh!  And she shut me down -- not deliberately I am sure -- she in retrospect was no one, but at the time she was THE PERSON who could have made a difference. I was seeking something from her, and ultimately she failed me.  But I suppose I failed myself for giving her that power.  Oh, if only we could chart the course of our lives when we were in our 40's versus when we were stupid kids who didn't -- and absolutely could NOT -- have known any better.

That is the part of Charlie that I see so clearly -- the way he shuts down (to protect himself) when he doesn't get the recognition or encouragement that he so desires.   I challenged teachers and they weren't in the mood, end of story.  He runs into this, but on a different level.  He doesn't challenge them academically, he challenges them in some manner that makes them see something they don't like in themselves, so they lash out.  Maybe I did this too -- maybe my need to learn more than the rote lesson plans they had been teaching their entire careers spoke to them, said hey, you're a boring teacher.  And so they shut me down.  Because they could.  But ultimately, they didn't really.  I saw them for who they were.  Uninspiring people who had a job.

I hated school so much.  And think how lucky I was that they could never take away my essence.  But I am afraid that they have with Charlie.  And I will always know that I could have done better.

Which is why private high school isn't a luxury, but a necessity -- so that maybe, just maybe they will have a teacher who isn't so abused by the system that they will smile and give encouragement so that my child will return the next day and grow.  And continue to grow.  And blossom.

Hey.  My parents tried -- and it was my daughter who decided she was going to take herself on a different path.  It wasn't me that suggested that prep school was the answer.  She figured it out all on her own.  And here I am, in the background, saying oh yeah, MY CHILDREN will get the best education possible.

We all want that for our children.  But our children ultimately lead the way.  No one has ever been able to harness me -- to point me in the direction of the path of least resistance.  My parents never had a chance -- and I guess neither did I.  The best advice my parent's could give me was that I couldn't beat the system.  Beat it?  I wanted to explode it!  And I still do!  And it should be -- demolished and rebuilt into something that makes sense.

When my daughter decided what she wanted, she more or less told me what to do.  And I listened.  I am always open for new solutions and new ideas!

I've always been a strong person, but I have unearthed my weaknesses along the way, and even though they are still my weaknesses now, I am constantly trying to fix them.  I want to grow, I want to be a better person -- and I've always wanted to give my kids everything I could.  And that particular conversation made me realize, we are doing more for our kids -- because we can.

I have three children, and each one is so different and amazing and talented and themselves.  There is so much of myself within all of them -- and then not so much.  I begrudge them nothing -- they owe me nothing.  I am proud, I am disappointed (not in them, but in my inability to give them every ounce of my being) and in the end I just really like them.

I can remember when Hallie was little, I would go to bed and then think "oh no, I didn't read her a story before she went to bed."   And I would feel awful.

Then when Maddie was a baby, I would put her to bed and think, "oh no, I didn't read her a story at all today."  And remember that when Hallie was little I would feel bad that I hadn't read her a story before bed, even though I had read her countless stories beforehand.

And I would think ... well, when Hallie was little you didn't have two small kids.  But none of it ever made me feel better.  I felt negligent a lot of the time.  I tweaked my life constantly trying to be the right mother.  I did a good job -- I do know this.  I know this because it was my priority, and I tweaked my (real, ha ha) job around motherhood and that was all okay too.  But I was always left wondering ... could I do more?

Oh Gawd yes, one can always do more.  But probably more to the detriment of the child than anything else.  I suffered through the daycare decision with Hallie -- month after month after month, I took her to work with me, sure that it was the right decision.  When she was a year old I put her in daycare.  Was I a horrible mother?  Because gosh, work was sure a lot easier without having to push an infant around hoping she would fall asleep so I could get something done.  And she seemed to love daycare.  Loved it.

And one wonders why I waited seven years before I had another child!

I guess my point to all of this is that I listen to my friends talk about visiting colleges with their children and all of it comes back to me -- all of it.  The daycare decisions, the decisions to have more children, the constant battle between finding the balance between work and being a mom, the concern that I wasn't giving everyone enough attention, the feeling at the end of the day that I had failed everyone, including myself ... and what the hell was the point?

There is no point ... there just is.  Life happens, or life is planned, but either way you are presented with these situations that you have to contend with.

And I'll be honest.  When life became too overwhelming, I figured it out.

And I'll be honest again -- life for me now is not overwhelming at all.  And you know what, that doesn't make figuring out what is best for your child any easier.  Odd, huh?

So whether or not you are a working parent or not -- being a parent is a challenge.  And it doesn't matter if you managed to get one child out of the nest successfully -- because children are not Pringle Potato Chips.  They are not exactly the same and they do not fit together snugly in a canister. 

(I guess when you resort to metaphors you are done.  So I am done.  I am an average parent with extraordinary children -- like all of us.)

I guess that is evolution.