The Curse-it's not what you think

I think I was about 13 when I first received the curse.  No I don't mean my link with the moon was finally broken, I mean the curse of the Mommy.

"I hope you have twins JUST LIKE YOU!" said in a scathing, fit of rage from the mouth of my Mother.  I'm sure that I did something to warrant it too.  You see, when I was hitting that very exciting time of pre-teen/teenage hormone-induced insanity, my poor Mother (other than dealing with me), began menopause.  Thus ensued numerous years of bickering, sarcasm, veiled threats, outright threats, vocal outbursts, tears and yelling matches. Poor woman, I'm not sure why she stayed, or didn't kill me in the dead of night and hide the body in a deep hole in the backyard.

I finally hit 18, got a boyfriend, got laid and become more human.  Mom went on hormone replacement therapy and learned to ignore me and we all get along quite well for some time. She's even sad when I finally move out at 26 (shut up, I had it good).

Fast-forward to September 2000. I find out that all the copulating with my spouse has proved fruitful and I'm with child. Excitement galore.  First grandchild on the way.  There's a set of twins in my husbands family but I'm assured that neither my advanced age (29) nor his cousins arrival on earth have saddled me with more than one wee one.  Of course, I've forgotten the curse but I think my Mother might have held out hope.

Baby arrives, healthy, beautiful and everyone's happy.  As the OC (oldest child for those who didn't read my last post) grows, they show sure signs of being their parents child.  In looks, temperament and all around personality.  My Mother laughs behind her hand on a number of occasions.

Now let me stress, that I was not a bad child and back in the 70's (again with the shut up), there was a lot more freedom allotted to children with regards to "free roaming".  I loved to read, play with friends, ride my bike etc. but I really fell down in the school side. Many things came easily to me so there wasn't much that I had to do to get by. (Those of you in the same boat see where this is headed I'm sure).

The phrases "applied herself" and "full potential" and "enough to get by" began to follow me around like dark shadows. Showing their evil grins in the deep of night when no one was around (okay, quarterly when the report cards came out). Some of you are now laughing outright.  I can hear you.

Let's face it, unless you are a brown-nosed keener, no one puts effort into anything that they can succeed at with basic output unless they're really motivated.  Example: English was easy for me and once I hit high school and really started to read some good stuff and report on it, little effort was needed to pass an English assignment. Math on the other hand required intervention from God above for comprehension, completion and passing marks. (My grade 10 accounting teacher Mr. Leask actually gave me a mark for my name on the final exam so that I got a 50 to pass the course.)

So OC begins school and is, naturally, brilliant like it's parents.  Things come pretty easily and aside from struggling with handwriting (totally the Father's side of the tree), OC has done well in school.  Not a genius but no dunce either.  OC loves to read, watch movies and tv and procrastinate.  Just like Mom.

So first the science test comes home.  Not good.  The OC had brought home their science notes but assured us that the knowledge about sedimentary rocks was solid and they had a firm grasp of the work.  I figured this could turn into a learning experience and allowed the tv watching instead of studying to commence.  Mentioning the test the night before, I was again assured it was all under control, complete with "I've got it Mum." Alrighty then.

Of course the science test comes home with a failing grade.  OC is horrified and extremely upset having to inform me of the situation.  "What have you learned?" I ask. "That I'm no good at science." "Wrong, you're very good at science, what's the real lesson here?" asks Mum calmly.
"That I need to study so that I can answer the test questions."   "Right." (and here's when my Mother's voice came out of my horrified mouth) "You need to take your time.  Instead of reading or watching tv, if you had studied for a few minutes each night you would have done much better.  You also need to take your time, read the question carefully, write clearly and review your answer to make sure it's right."  (you bet your ass I checked the mirror to see if some Freaky Friday moment happened and my Mother's face was looking back at me, but no, that was all Melissa).

So when we arrived home I told OC that they had to explain to Dad what had happened.  All I said to him when we came in was "Don't react". As OC recounts the events and ramifications of the science-avoidance week, he comes back with exactly the same responses I did!  I can't even tell you how much I love this man!  Almost word for word he had the same answers, comments and final consequences if this happened again.  I truly picked the perfect partner. 

So, OC feels better, Dad feels good, Mum feels good and the voice retracts to the inner circles of my brain to wait and plot it's revenge.

The next week the math test comes home.  It is not good. "R" apparently stands for "remedial", I figured "retarded". 14 out of 40 on fractions, my old nemesis (damn you Miss Card and grade 10).  Fractions have decided to take their revenge on my sweet baby. Bastards.

I immediately feel the anger rise up in my breast.  Didn't we just have this conversation 4 days ago? Was there homework or notes that OC should have been studying from? Was there less applying and more procrastinating going on? What the Fuck!  This is not acceptable and, unexpected.  I can understand a low math mark, I'm okay with that, but 35% on a test!?! (yes I figured out that percentage myself).

OC knows that their evenings of tv, computer and movies are over.  We immediately go out and purchase a workbook which has the entire Canadian grade 4 math curriculum, and the grade 2 for the YC because misery loves company.

Again, so thankful for the husband who had the exact same response right down to the tv ban.

So tomorrow morning I have a meeting with the teacher to see if she's noticed a steady decline in the OC's math/science comprehension.  Were they doing fine throughout the unit but shit the bed when it came to the test? Or did the OC struggle with the concept of fractions through the entire unit, classroom instruction included?  How has the OC done since the last report card (upon which I asked for a meeting with the teacher to discuss and received no response.  I didn't really have any concerns but wanted to see if she'd follow up.  I'm still waiting.  Nuff said about this years "educator".).

Yes I realize that there's only two weeks left and that everyone's pretty much mentally checked out, but if the OC is failing math somebody's gonna get hurt real bad.  I mean, the failing tests didn't even require me to sign and return proving that the OC had 'fessed up to flunking them. When did that stop?

So, back to my "curse".  Although I don't have twins (thank God), I appear to have a child who doesn't apply themself, looks for the easy out, would rather read than do school work, and isn't striving to fulfill their "full potential".  I'll have to sit and take it from the teacher, much as my Mother did from the time I was 5 until I hit high school at 13 and I banned her from parent/teacher interviews.

That sound you hear, it's the maniacal laughter of my Mother, finally realizing the curse has taken affect and I'm getting my comeuppance.  Well at least it took 6 years of school before we got here.

(aside, the other day the OC rolled their eyes at me while I was giving some sage advice that due to my long years on earth and experience.  I suppose I'm really getting my own back now.) 

I officially apologise to my Mother for all the crap that I put her through.  I doubt that apology, even with the sacrifice of a small, baby harp seal, will get me out of the next 10 years of bullshit coming my way between the two children.  Oh well, I guess that there's a Sainthood on the other side.

Either that or I'm changing my name to Job.

Mel

I'd also like to point out that this is a fairly long post, and although I could have taken the short cut and put in the least amount of effort to get my point and frustration across,  but I didn't.  I carefully worked out my topic, how I'd explain it, tied in my past and present and even had a pretty solid last paragraph (I even threw in something for my Squirrel_e_girl).  I've come a long way baby.

Of course, I also typed this post at work where I should be doing something else and not fucking the dog, but really, baby steps people.  I can't be expected to go against my internal grain completely.  Can I?