At this writing, it’s the night before our first real parent-teacher conference, and I’m not kidding — I’m kind of freaking out a little bit.
For starters, it’s at our house. When I was a kid, these things were held at the school, during an open house, with all the other kids and their parents.
But there are no secrets at your house. I already feel like it’s Judgment Day.
I’ve met Miles’ teacher once, and she seemed like a perfectly nice and reasonable person, but still, you can’t help but feel like she’s going to discover every single flaw.
I haven’t been this nervous to have somebody over to my house since my first date with my future wife. But then, I didn’t have two kids, and the place was already relatively clean.
After a whirlwind housecleaning session, I’m still not satisfied. I keep finding all these little reminders of what imperfect parents we are.
Over here, a stray McDonald’s receipt on the table; better make sure to get that. We wouldn’t want Miles’ teacher to know we feed him McDonald’s on occasion. Do we eat McDonald’s too much?
Over there, in a corner, the crusty remnants of something that probably once qualified as food. It looks like chewed-up pasta, but it could be a dried-up piece of cheese, or maybe a desiccated chunk of pineapple. Why is this here? Don’t we have a dog to take care of this sort of thing?
There’s an epic layer of dust, dog hair and assorted kid-related sticky bits on the TV and the stand it sits on. This is not just a minor dusting session. It’s a good 10-minute job, in which I have the opportunity for further self-examination. Do they watch TV too much? Are we addling our kids’ brains with nonstop viewings of “Thomas the Tank Engine” and “The Wiggles”?
Another black mark.
Miles’ room, hah, let’s not even tackle that, we’ll just close the door. But wait. What if she wants to see his room to get a glimpse of his home life? Or worse yet, what if he asks her to come see it? That would not be good. I’ve been told there is a floor in there somewhere, but it hasn’t been beheld by human eyes in quite some time.
Best to just close off that entire section of the house altogether, I guess. If somebody needs to go to the bathroom, the Marathon station across the way isn’t too bad.
But the most concerning part is his behavior. We’ve gotten a couple hints lately that he “has trouble listening” which with Miles is code for “completely ignores you when you’re telling him to do anything he doesn’t want to do.”
We are doing our best to try to remedy this behavior that is definitely exhibited with us but we — up to this point — have consoled ourselves with the knowledge that he’s always been a model student at school. What do you do when that isn’t happening anymore? Should we be more strict? How do you do that and not stifle his individualism, crush his spirit?
This whole new-age parenting thing is really tough sometimes. Hopefully all this worrying is unwarranted, and we’ll find out that it’s really not that big a deal.
In the meantime, I’ve got a kitchen to scrub.