I am going to make a very personal revelation here, one that may surprise you, though not if you know me in real life. You will, however, most likely be extremely grateful to know it's not about a) my health/mood/depression issues or b) running. I saw you do a fist pump, by the way.
Anyway, back to me. I am socially inept. Always have been and dare think that I probably always will be. I am fine with people I know. People I don't know, I am terrible. I try really hard to avoid talking to them by avoiding all eye contact.
Yes, I am ridiculous. I am fully aware of it. Yet, somehow I keep right on doing it.
What I want to know is why do my kids have to not only inherit my bad characteristics but the nth degree?
This is my crazy Kamo, the one we call rubber boy. The one who is fearless and runs with his eyes closed, into a fence, of course.
Except that now he is no longer fearless. He now has so much fear that he can't talk at school. He tells me he tries but he just can't.
It breaks my heart and I so get it. I was there, though not to that extent. I would talk only when ABSOLUTELY necessary but I would speak.
So far after more than a dozen days at school, I could likely count on two hands the number of words he has spoken (quietly). These spoken only when asked direct questions by the teacher. He has yet to speak to another kid in his class.
My baby is going to have no friends not to mention having to repeat Kindergarten because the teacher will be unable to assess his progress.. H-ello anxiety attack, how nice to meet you.
And that's not where the social skills go awry. Oh no. We need more to ice this cake.
The event that adds the final finesse to my nomination application for Worst Mother of the Year (been working on this one for oh, about 8 years, thankyouverymuch, occurred the other night. I was planning on putting Kamden in Tae Kwon Do and his buddy was starting a class that night. I asked Kamden if he would like to go and check it out to see what it was like. Yes, he replied and then said to his buddy, "Then I can see you for even more time!"
So we drive two cars over there (I had to scoot off to my Pilates class after) and walk into the foyer beside the gym where the class has already begun. He freezes and won't even take his shoes off. I try to gently urge him in telling him I will come with him. He refuses to even let me take off his shoes, even when I assured him I would go in with him and stay until he was comfortable.
I lost it.
Fine, let's go home, I am not fighting with you to make you try something fun that I know you will love.
Home we go. He cries. I try to listen to the music. I am extremely mature and rational, did I mention that?
Eventually I calmed down and Jay pointed out what should have been ridiculously obvious to me. We did not prepare him at all for what the scene would be like when we arrived. The class was about 30 people all lined up in a gym doing the warm up moves TOGETHER. Kamden is five. He's little. There were many adults in the group as well as older kids.
Now that I think back on it, I would have been a bit frightened to go in too. Thankfully he saved me the trouble.
This parenting gig has a steep learning curve and I might need medication to survive the climb.