Pay Attention!

I slept like crap last night as I have got Parent Teacher Interviews today. I have a strange fear of Parent Teacher interviews that stem from my own personal experiences as a student.
I am pretty sure the Primary School ones went ok. After all that was like a billion years ago so I cannot remember much about them back then. But the high school ones were a different story altogether. I remember DAYS of silence from my parents following these evenings. And then a few sentences would be leaked. Sentences like “I just can’t look at you right now,” or “Why are you wasting all your talent?” And I think the main kicker was that they were paying through the nose for my education at a fancy ass Boarding School, something only now can I realise how annoying that must have been……
I am fearing Parent Teacher Interviews today because I get all super defensive at them. I actually nearly cried at Harry’s Kindy one when his teacher suggested we do extra activities to improve his fine motor skills. It took all my control not to yell…..

“Like what the fuck would you know! You are 23 and your skin is smooth. Do you know how hard it is to be a mum and now you are asking me to play chopstick games with him and do peg board patterns using bloody elastic bands and shit!”
But my guilt of having a 5 year old son with inferior fingering skills indeed saw me doing peg board patterns with elastic bands and shit and now I am proud to say Harry is doing fine with peg boards. Fabulous.
I am a bit nervous about Parent Teacher Interviews. Last year I accidentally said a swear word when I was handed an assessment folder to have a look at. You feel like a crap house parent if your kid is not shining. I do not want to hear any bad stuff. I know about the bad stuff. I live with the bad stuff. I want to good stuff please. The praise and adulation. The Kindness and Patience that my kids display and the ease at which they tackle new problems and learn new strategies. I no longer wish to read or hear the sentence “Can be distracted easily”.
When I was called into the Principals Office recently to cover one of my kids juvenile behaviours, I almost died and thought of my dear Mum the whole time, who spent more time discussing me with The Headmistress than she cares to remember. She can still describe the carpet in that office. Principals are always scary Mo-Fo’s if you ask me. Even smiling ones.
I explained to her that (child in question’s) erratic behaviour came down to the fact that Mr Woog drank throughout my pregnancies.
I am hoping today I will not crack inappropriate gags or cry.
Wish me luck!