Its been a crazy week. I've been battling with exhaustion and now, I'm battling a cold. I've also spent most of the minutes that I've been on line recently, searching for a means of publishing the book I've been writing for the last few years. I finally got serious about it and completed it last year and now, I'm to the editing stages. I admit that I haven't been juggling well and I kinda neglected the blog for a spell, but I assure you that I'm back. The world needs this working supermom, even if it doesn't know it yet!
Last week, I had the pleasure of visiting Shakir's school for a class level meeting. While most parents would be interested to hear from their child's teachers about how their progress and what challenges they face, I was more interested in hearing about his behaviour. I relaxed in my seat when she kindly informed me that he behaved well. She did mention a bit of rough play that the boys engage in at lunch time and he, along with a few others, had to be spoken to. No big deal there as far as I was concerned. She went on to discuss school work and like me, she is aware that the level of work he is doing isn't challenging to him. His main difficulty is his handwriting. So far so good.
She told me that Shakir likes to draw and will sometimes hurry down his work so he can ask for a piece of paper to draw. She went on to advise that he would doodle in his book beneath his desk when he thinks she isn't looking and that if something needs to be drawn on the board, he always volunteers to do it. By now, I admit that I was laughing heartily at the idea that my son's biggest transgression is that he draws. Then it all went downhill.
She mentioned that he told her he is learning to play the steel pan and the drums and sometime during that conversation, Shakir passed by to add that he was also interested in learning to play the piano and flute. That statement alone almost took my life. She began to talk about the cost of the lessons and the price of the instruments and all I could hear in my head was the loud mess it would sound like while he is at home practicing. I must have had at least dozen massive heart attacks while she engaged the boy in discussion about remembering her once he became a famous musician. In fact, the more I think about it, I'm fairly certain that I'm giving you this recount from the so-called 'other side'. "He like a piece of drumming," I recovered long enough to hear her say to me and that's when I remembered that there is another miniature musician living at my house.
That miniature musician, who is appropriately named Jaheim, can drum right along with Shakir to most beats. When Shakir is at steel pan rehearsal and Jaheim and I are waiting for it to be over, often times, Jaheim will tell me that the microphone needs to be plugged in so that he can sing. At home, he likes to strum the little toy guitar he owns and most recently, I noticed that he had it perched on his shoulder like a violin and he had a stick to play it with. At this point, I began to wonder where precisely I went wrong. I had planned to churn out artists and writers, not musicians. Let the musicians raise the musicians. Right now, my musician siblings are likely nodding their heads and smiling their pleasure at this small victory.
I have to go back to the drawing board and rethink how best to proceed with this situation, otherwise, heaven help me.
Allison is mother to two active boys who challenge her on a day to day basis with their escapades. In her other life, Allison juggles a regular day job as a marketing executive in a health food organization. At night, when everyone is asleep, she dreams of being a fulltime writer and super hero.