Transitioning to a new parenting job

This year, Raihana’s spring break did not coordinate with mine. I spent my spring break freezing my rear end off in Toronto at the Comparative and International Education Society conference. One week after my break had ended, her primary school began its break. I was scrambling from teaching in Decatur to a highly dissatisfied almost-8 year old. She pronounced the beginnings of her spring break boring, and demanded my companionship.

 

On Monday, I realized that the slightest endeavor at thinking a work-related thought to its conclusion would be impossible alongside the nonstop high-energy demands of my daughter. My parental ethic, by and large, means that I am uncomfortable allowing TV and computer games to babysit Raihana. I know that she would be happy to read, play Minecraft, or watch Ruby Gloom for several hours, but that would be too easy. When was this job ever easy?

 

So I put aside all my work and decided that the most I would do this week was answer work emails and do short tasks. “Mama,” Raihana said, “Abbu has gone to work, and you’re not going to Decatur, so I have you all to myself!” I felt that I was quite successful in being a loving and fun parent though, by Wednesday, I felt like my brain was being suctioned out of my skull. I was a dedicated parent, and I was not allowing work to turn me into a second-rate mom.

 

Teachers claim my daughter struggles with transitions. Well, on Saturday, I found quite intimidating the prospect of transitioning to writing / class prep from a nonstop parenting-fest. I felt like I was trying to put the brakes on while driving on an icy highway, or rev the engine up to high speed immediately on a cold morning.

 

When Svend took over, and I brushed Raihana’s hair before heading out to resume writing, I felt that I could afford a moment of self-congratulation. “Did we have a good spring break together?” I asked Raihana,
Pausing between shrieks and demands to stop brushing her hair, Raihana snapped, “I had a horrible spring break.”

 

I stopped between brush strokes, shocked at her sincerity and surprised at how hurt I was, “What do you mean?”
“I wanted to be by myself,” she went on, “and you were always breathing down my neck! And now spring break is over and I have no time to myself!”
Until now, my main struggle has been reassuring Raihana that I was present for her, that I wouldn’t neglect her, and that she was my priority. “But you love your work,” she has accused me. “Why don’t you spend time with me, Mama?” So I have tried, and tried. Suddenly, after pushing and shoving, after making me adjust and re-adjust my attitude to life, work, and parenting, I feel like she is changing game plans on me. One day, I’m complaining about the daily grind of parenting, the wrenching struggle to show up and do a good job at work while my heart is with my daughter who is disappointed that I’m a no-show at some school event. The next day, I feel like I am getting summarily laid off. One moment, I’m dealing with the daily grind, the next moment I’m sitting in a recliner with a beer gut watching home shopping ads. One moment, I’m preening myself over my lengthy scholarly resume and the next moment, I’m in the Apocalypse and wishing I’d spent some time learning to hunt rabbits and construct shelters.

 

Is my 8-year old turning 13 already? Her childlike exuberance suddenly shifts and I see flashes of a pre-teen, like some strange transmissions on a television screen, like flashes of demon in a child in some poltergeist movie. Time to prepare myself for a new child, when I’d never figured out the first one.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s