While we were leaving a neighborhood party, two women cornered me asking me to consider a volunteer position outside the school, but related to student activities. "Awe! That's such a compliment. Thank you. I will think about it," I said. I then remember realizing what just happened and running home without looking back.
When my husband got home, I said in a very loud and high pitched voice, "I don't want to do this and you can't make me". He assured me he wouldn't and that all I had to say was no. He almost BEGGED me to say no. This likely stems from the fact that I tend to get VERY involved when leading something and that I am fastidiously organized – a trait my husband associates as almost a sin; good from a professional standpoint, but maybe not in more informal endeavors. I have to agree. I am sure my husband was probably recalling vivid memories of our wedding plan (well, my plan). And yes, they weren’t “plans”, it was A plan complete with processes, timelines, ownership responsibilities and metrics – or as my husband still calls it, the infamous “Yoko list” (currently in hardcopy binder and electronic form; come to think of it, I should mass market and sell it as the bible of nuptial planning strategies and tactics).
Ok, back to the issue at hand. My husband said that all I have to say is no. Oh that's right, NO! That simple little word. I can say no. Why in fact, I used to be really good at it.
When I was a toddler, NO was one of my first words.
When I was in Kindergarten, I said NO to coordinated outfits.
When I was ten, I said NO when I didn't want to clean my room.
When I was a teenager, I said NO to a curfew.
When I was in college, I said NO to a budget.
When I was a flight attendant, I said NO to drunk people (and pilots).
When I was a kindergarten teacher, I said NO in a positive, constructive way.
And now that I'm a mom, why do I feel awful for saying NO?
More ashamedly, though, I am prone to issue a few too many "What the F@#%" outbursts during moments of frustration or periodic dilemmas (think difficult wine cork).
As you can imagine, one such "What the F@#% … do I dos" popped out in this conversation with my husband. I am flattered they thought of me, but I would rather not be in that position just now. I will volunteer over and over on individual days, but I just don’t want to run something long-term at this juncture. At the same time, I do appreciate the offer. It was sweet and offered in friendship to someone new in the school community.
I then thought of my sweet little innocent O and a term she coined earlier this year. While initially shocked and forced to address, and then to eliminate, the term from her vocabulary, I actually like it better than “What the F@#” (again, for me not her).
During the summer, I was getting our beach bag packed in North Carolina and O shouted at our dog Wally, "F@#% ON, Wally! F@#% ON!" For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what she meant by it. Furthermore, I told her Wally might not know what she means and surely there was a better choice of words to use.
Then she challenged me like a high school debate champ. She explained that Wally needed to wait until we got to the beach to play with the ball in the bucket that she was holding, and then she said it again. "F@#% ON, Wally!” She then looked at me like a teacher to a student and said, "You see mommy, you say "What the F@#%" when you are frustrated and don’t know what to do. BUT I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO and I am just trying to get Wally to understand.” I instantly thought, “what clarity!” Though it was necessary, I actually felt a little bad having to still explain that there were still much more appropriate words to convey the same message.
The other day at "back to school night" at O's school, I ran into both woman again and they again inquired about my interest in the position. Like O, I knew exactly what I wanted, or did not want in this case, but O’s words "F@#% ON" were all that came to mind along with the hope that these women would understand it’s just not the right thing for me now.
After a brief pause, I politely declined using more appropriate and appreciative words, knowing full well there was a better way to “convey the same message.” I thanked them for their kind consideration of me, someone they had just met who were gracious enough to include me in something as a new parent coming into the school.
Ultimately, I guess it’s true that in trying to teach our children we often end up teaching ourselves (not sure if that is from the philosopher Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patten’s character, Tom Bradford, from TV’s Eight is Enough, anyway).
I then saw my husband across the hall at the school and joined him to head down to O’s classroom for the meet and greet. On the way he asked me, “so, did you end up agreeing to take the position?" I just looked at him, smiled and said “F@#% ON”. A passerby looked back at me scornfully as those two little words spilled out loud. Apparently, I still have a lot to learn, and for that reason, kindergarten SUCKS!
When my husband got home, I said in a very loud and high pitched voice, "I don't want to do this and you can't make me". He assured me he wouldn't and that all I had to say was no. He almost BEGGED me to say no. This likely stems from the fact that I tend to get VERY involved when leading something and that I am fastidiously organized – a trait my husband associates as almost a sin; good from a professional standpoint, but maybe not in more informal endeavors. I have to agree. I am sure my husband was probably recalling vivid memories of our wedding plan (well, my plan). And yes, they weren’t “plans”, it was A plan complete with processes, timelines, ownership responsibilities and metrics – or as my husband still calls it, the infamous “Yoko list” (currently in hardcopy binder and electronic form; come to think of it, I should mass market and sell it as the bible of nuptial planning strategies and tactics).
Ok, back to the issue at hand. My husband said that all I have to say is no. Oh that's right, NO! That simple little word. I can say no. Why in fact, I used to be really good at it.
When I was a toddler, NO was one of my first words.
When I was in Kindergarten, I said NO to coordinated outfits.
When I was ten, I said NO when I didn't want to clean my room.
When I was a teenager, I said NO to a curfew.
When I was in college, I said NO to a budget.
When I was a flight attendant, I said NO to drunk people (and pilots).
When I was a kindergarten teacher, I said NO in a positive, constructive way.
And now that I'm a mom, why do I feel awful for saying NO?
More ashamedly, though, I am prone to issue a few too many "What the F@#%" outbursts during moments of frustration or periodic dilemmas (think difficult wine cork).
As you can imagine, one such "What the F@#% … do I dos" popped out in this conversation with my husband. I am flattered they thought of me, but I would rather not be in that position just now. I will volunteer over and over on individual days, but I just don’t want to run something long-term at this juncture. At the same time, I do appreciate the offer. It was sweet and offered in friendship to someone new in the school community.
I then thought of my sweet little innocent O and a term she coined earlier this year. While initially shocked and forced to address, and then to eliminate, the term from her vocabulary, I actually like it better than “What the F@#” (again, for me not her).
During the summer, I was getting our beach bag packed in North Carolina and O shouted at our dog Wally, "F@#% ON, Wally! F@#% ON!" For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what she meant by it. Furthermore, I told her Wally might not know what she means and surely there was a better choice of words to use.
Then she challenged me like a high school debate champ. She explained that Wally needed to wait until we got to the beach to play with the ball in the bucket that she was holding, and then she said it again. "F@#% ON, Wally!” She then looked at me like a teacher to a student and said, "You see mommy, you say "What the F@#%" when you are frustrated and don’t know what to do. BUT I KNOW EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO DO and I am just trying to get Wally to understand.” I instantly thought, “what clarity!” Though it was necessary, I actually felt a little bad having to still explain that there were still much more appropriate words to convey the same message.
The other day at "back to school night" at O's school, I ran into both woman again and they again inquired about my interest in the position. Like O, I knew exactly what I wanted, or did not want in this case, but O’s words "F@#% ON" were all that came to mind along with the hope that these women would understand it’s just not the right thing for me now.
After a brief pause, I politely declined using more appropriate and appreciative words, knowing full well there was a better way to “convey the same message.” I thanked them for their kind consideration of me, someone they had just met who were gracious enough to include me in something as a new parent coming into the school.
Ultimately, I guess it’s true that in trying to teach our children we often end up teaching ourselves (not sure if that is from the philosopher Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patten’s character, Tom Bradford, from TV’s Eight is Enough, anyway).
I then saw my husband across the hall at the school and joined him to head down to O’s classroom for the meet and greet. On the way he asked me, “so, did you end up agreeing to take the position?" I just looked at him, smiled and said “F@#% ON”. A passerby looked back at me scornfully as those two little words spilled out loud. Apparently, I still have a lot to learn, and for that reason, kindergarten SUCKS!
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