It seems that things always have a way of turning around so rapidly in my life.  Everything always works out, but of course I forget this truth when I most need to remember it. 

I decided to give the school another chance last Friday and Sami had a great day!  I called about halfway through the day and the teachers said he was doing fine.  Then I got on the phone with the administrator and calmly explained the situation.  I had composed an angry email but a voice inside me told me not to send it — to get on the phone instead.  And I’m so glad I did!  We had a lovely and humane conversation and she was profusely apologetic.  She had recently been in a bike accident and was not on top of her communication, neglecting to relay details like not bringing kids to the parents’ meeting.  I told her that it was not her that I was upset with but I thought an apology from the director was in order.  She told me that she would convey my sentiments to her.

I hung up the phone feeling like this was a good dharma lesson: it’s OK to feel the anger but then what do we do with the energy of that anger?  I feel like I stood up for myself in a dignified way but did not resort to any knee-jerk reactions or cause harm with my anger.  Perhaps this is the fruit of my sitting.  I was able to pause before I pressed send on the snippy email.  It turned out that the administrator’s dog had just died and she was really emotional.  I’m sure that reading that email only would have caused unnecessary harm.  Instead, we had a personal connection on the phone and a positive outcome.

Today I went to the school picnic, and the director did come up to me and gave me a very warm and heartfelt apology.  I am willing to give everyone the benefit of the doubt that it was misunderstandings all around, and to try again. 

That being said, I did put Sami back on the waiting list for the free school, so if things don’t work out at this school my options are open. 

I was so relieved that he had a great second day, but it made me wonder: here I am, wanting to be a nurturing and comforting influence on my son, and he seems more miserable when I am around.  Perhaps I am looking at it in a skewed way: around me he feels free, free to let it all out.  Every emotional nuance.  I had someone tell me in my parenting class that this is actually a positive thing. 

Yet I so often feel out of control in my parenting.  That might be good, too: because I am not falling prey to the illusion of control.

I guess the best way to describe me and parenting is hapless.  For example today, at the playground.  He was tired and had not had a nap.  I knew that this would cause him to be a little harder to discipline than usual.  I was talking with one of the teachers, whose 21 month old was in the sandbox with Sami.  Sami started throwing sand and I tried to work with him around that.  I got down on his level and explained that we don’t throw sand.  I offered to help him build sand castles instead and that worked fine for a while but he started throwing sand again.  He was not throwing sand at anyone, just out of the sandbox, so I let it go.  But I felt that I was being inconsistent, and while he was not throwing sand at anyone, I was giving him a mixed message by letting him continue to throw sand.  I know consistency is overrated, but still…I wish I had been able to set a limit and just uphold it.  Then the teacher’s son then started throwing sand and she was able to successfully redirect him. 

My comparing and judging mind kicked into gear: she is a good parent and I’m not.  I’m a wimpy, overly-permissive parent, yadda yadda yadda.  She must think I’m a lousy parent.  But I wouldn’t let myself give in to that kind of thinking for very long.  If anything will get in the way of conscious parenting, it is an attitude like that! 

Today I connected with many parents at the picnic even though I am so insecure about these kinds of gatherings with new people.  I tried not to walk around with a giant chip on my shoulder because I am the only single mom.  Yet I found myself referring to my single motherhood.  When I pointed out the obvious to another mom, that my son is big for his age, she asked, “is your husband tall?”  And I said, “his dad’s 6′2″.”  There were a few other contexts where I mentioned it, perhaps.  But for the most part I felt connected.  This is huge, because my default is to feel separate and either superior or inferior, depending on the context. 

One instance where I could have felt very inferior was when I met the best-selling novelist whose daughter attends the school.  She gave a reading once at my MFA program (before I dropped out): I remember it now.  Her novel was assigned reading in the program.  I read it, and loved it.  How funny that our paths should cross this way.  I found her presence inspiring.  I can finish my book.  She wrote a second novel with kids and now she is writing more.  I tried not to be all gushy and fan-like and we had a nice and down-to-earth conversation.  She was very encouraging and I appreciated it.  I didn’t feel inferior: I was genuinely happy for her and her success and we had a good time talking about writing and books.

This is a rambling post and I am not sure where I am going with it.  I think it is a post about trust and humility.  Trusting that I am in the right place, that Sami is in the right place, and that I can always make changes if need be.  Trusting that I am no better or worse than anyone else.  And that I can give people a second chance when appropriate.  That while I may be full of righteous anger, it is possible to make a choice, if I stay present, as to what I do (or don’t do) with that anger.