Being a parent is like managing a small, successful corporation. The employees - your children - look to you for guidance, draw on your experience, rely on you for their survival, and (hopefully) take their cue from the boss vis à vis behaviour and expectations in the workplace.
And, as within any corporation, there are outside forces at work eager to have their portfolio reviewed and have few minutes of your time, or money, dedicated to their cause. These forces - particularly during the holiday season - take many forms, ranging from the telephone solicitation at dinner time, to trimming angel shapes with an X-Acto knife and preparing egg-salad sandwiches for a school event.
Juggling is a metaphor often associated with parenting, but I prefer to think of raising a family as goaltending. Juggling has serenity about it; if you haven't studied three-ball juggling it's worth learning: here's a tutorial. Juggling requires focus, not much physical exertion (unless you one day graduate to fire and swords), and tunnel vision, which can be very relaxing after a hectic day.
Goaltending, on the other hand, more closely resembles running a household: everyone is taking their shot, being in two places at once sure would help, you can never clearly see what's coming; on some days everything seems to get by you, and on others you post a shutout and win the game. (By the way, to be fair, here are some tips to improve your goaltending.)
Solicitation of your parenting corporation usually begins in earnest the first week of December in the form of teacher gifts.
Let's be clear: teachers deserve gifts from students. (At least the ones who teach my kids do, they're fantastic...I know there are exceptions; I remember those exceptions from my grade school years.)
It's more the logistics which become complicated. My kids - 7 and 4-years-old respectively - are in different schools. Co-ordinating a collection of funds for their teachers' gifts has to be done in a manner which is covert - as to not alert the teacher, and fool proof - as to withstand the literal and sometimes clumsy mind of a grade-schooler.
I don't know how this was done before the advent of e-mail; I'd have to ask my mother. Perhaps it wasn't habitual back then, or perhaps my parents didn't like my teachers.
In 2011, the collection of funds could be relatively simple: someone takes the initiative through the delivery of one e-mail. In the body of the text is an amount, a deadline, and the name of the person collecting the funds. An envelope is left at the front office; done. Contribute, or don't. Have your name on the card, or not.
But, it's never that easy.
If all the donations have not been received, is that because some parents decided not to donate, or rather they haven't received the message? Only one way to find out: a reminder e-mail.
This process is repeated through similar channels at both schools. I read, reply, delete. Delete, delete, delete.
Simultaneously, Christmas concerts are being planned.
What time?
Are parents invited?
Are grandparents invited? At one school yes, at the other no more than four people can attend due to fire regulations. Who to invite? Parents? Yes. Sibling? Yes. Grandparents? Ok, which? Time for a quick phone call to explain to a couple of grandparents why they will hear from their grandson about a concert they were not invited to attend. Those tend to turn into longer phone calls.
After the Christmas concert there will be an after party. Here is a list of items we would like parents to contribute to the buffet, please sign up. We are also organizing a charity Christmas basket; below, please find your child's name alongside the items we would like her to contribute. No later than Friday, please.
During all this, apart from the teachers' gifts, a charity donation is being organized in their names. A generous thought...which requires funds to be collected at the school by so-and-so...before Friday, please.
Not all parents have donated. Was that because they chose not to, or rather they haven't received the message? Re-send, re-read, reply, delete. Delete, delete, delete.
I can tell you, though, what makes this all worth it:
* My children scamper out the door in morning, eager to share with their teachers stories of home life. They later race home, eager share with my wife and I stories of school life. Inspiring that level of excitement and pleasure in a child while wrapping it all in an education is no easy feat.
* Out of nowhere yesterday, my daughter let out a long sigh, as though she were being bothered by something she was only now speaking of: "Ok, fine. Do you want to hear one of my Christmas songs from my concert?" Not only has she been performing arias from the back seat of the car, she later added arm movements and a curtsey during a performance in the living room.
* My son has been carolling to himself while completing his homework.
* My daughter revealed she did not want to play the mother during the upcoming show, instead she' ll be wearing all brown; she's one of the reindeer: "I think I'm Bwitzen."
The magic of running your own corporation manifests itself in strange ways. It's not about the deadlines we meet, the tasks we juggle, or the goals we achieve. The magic appears through these little workers, and their songs, and the stars shining in their eyes when they gallop on stage. The magic continues when the sleigh arrives at home, and a sleepy Bwitzen is tucked into bed.
Thank you to all those who donate their time.
Comments