Confessions of a I-don’t-give-a-shit mom

tiger momSo the other day, Re came back from school, sulking. I asked him what the matter was. He said he was the only child in school that day to come dressed in a uniform when the whole school was dressed in traditional clothes. I had no idea what he was talking about. “But why didn’t anyone tell me?,” I asked, pained that he felt left out, but annoyed that the Whatsapp psychos hadn’t told me.

“You are supposed to check e-campus everyday mamma! It seems it was written on it!’. He was referring to the school website of course, which totally intimidates me. Now, given the time I waste on the internet every day, you might say what’s the harm checking a school website to find out what’s going on? But I find it painfully boring, I really do.

That’s when I realized that I don’t really care; I am just happy that he goes to school every day. When people are holding forth about tiger moms and camel moms and lamb moms, I smile beatifically. Because no one is talking about the I-don’t-give-a-shit moms. So I thought I will share a list things that I don’t give a shit about:

I don’t care what he learns in school. I chose the school only because it has a good arts program and they teach the kids how to swim and songs about science. It was one thing I wouldn’t have to do. Also I look at school as an extended form of daycare, so I am happy with the basics. The more I expect from it, the more I have to do. And I won’t do THAT.

I don’t know the difference between ICSE, CBSE, IG, IB, IGCSE any new boards that may have been invented without my knowledge and frankly,  I don’t care. I don’t think learning comes prefixed with labels. I am still learning although I may have some labels.

I hate homework. Okay let me correct it. I hate that I may have to help with homework. So I pretend it doesn’t exist. My time with my kid is my time with my kid. It cannot be an extension of school time. I have enough trouble being a mother. I don’t want to be a tutor. Besides I would suck at it. Having been a teacher doesn’t help.

I hate it when other moms on Whatsapp discuss homework. I think they are all losers. I really do. I mean what kind of person would triple check what a child says is homework just in order to ascertain that it indeed is? Your kid knows what to do. It’s just that you don’t trust him/her. Losers.

I am constantly nervous that the child will come with a note in his almanac or some circular will be issued from the school that parents have to do a project/make some costume/ prop. I don’t want to be a part of it.

I am really bored of listening to people talking about their kids’ achievements. Like really really bored. Do something yourself and tell me, for Christ’s sake.

I love it when my kid plays with dolls, puts on makeup for them, paints shoes on them, does their hair, adds sequins to their clothes. If you have a problem with it, it’s your problem.

Sometimes I forget the difference between my outside voice and my inside voice. My kid calls me shouty. But then it’s okay, because he forgets it too. So we are even.

I sometimes make feeble attempts to ask him whether he would like to learn ballet, the piano, or tennis maybe, knowing fully well that I will have to sacrifice more hours of writing or doing what I want for it, but then he says no; he already knows ballet. And the piano. I don’t argue. I am relieved and let him be.

I try and redeem myself from time to time by posing as a tree for a play that the child is a part of and wants to practice at home. But that is the exception more than the rule. So don’t typecast me. It may look like I am winging motherhood, but six years down, and I still don’t know what I am doing.

 

( A version of this post appeared as my column in Pune Mirror on 19th October, 2015)

 

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Whatsappmommydom and some gory details

Two days ago, I was invited to join a whatsapp mommy group in Re’s school. I figured it might be useful to get updates on flash holidays (we had three of them last week) and other such, so I promptly typed “Hello, I am Lalita and I’m Re’s mom” and thought I’ll just stay back and relax. Although I was quite irked by the fact that as usual, the daddies were conspicuous by their absence (ask any daddy when the Diwali holidays begin and watch their face and you will know why)

There was an avalanche of messages in the next few hours. Finally, when I could bear it no more, I muted it and wrote a facebook post about it here:

After a momentous 40 likes and equal number of comments, I realised it was an affliction borne silently by many.

On Day 2, this is my loot so far:
Ganpati piggybacking on shiva – a poster
Stay calm, stay happy – a poster
Award winning photo of girl holding mirror
Flowers as girls ( photo play)
Flowers as boys ( photo play)
Emoticons for every emotion, known and unknown
How to make a candle from an orange (this was sought after on twitter by a food blogger friend who plans to execute it!)
Empty audio file
Phone number of a dentist
Suggestion that rainy days are for bunking school (grrrrr…..)
Stay calm. Have faith in god – A poster.
Exclamations to last a lifetime
Have a nice day. Be happy – A poster.

There are many things that are a part and parcel of parenting, but I think this was a new low for me.

Will try and hang in there.