Why it's good to share.

Some weeks ought to earn a person a merit badge: a wee gold star for a week well done. Or maybe a wee colored star for effort, for a week managed not necessarily well, but with the best of intentions.

Like this week for example: Wee colored star, Lynn, for not losing your shit at anyone, even though you're a little up against it for a moment. Wee gold star, Mark, for going out late evening and coming back with a new dishwasher (not stolen but from a store) plus another wee gold star for plumbing in aforementioned dishwasher.

And one for all of us residing here at Tweddley Manor, for allowing ourselves to be openly sad at the sudden death of our chicken, Norma. A wee ginger chicken we'd hatched from an egg, she was always in the middle of any drama happening in the flock and had never knowingly laid an egg without announcing it to the whole neighborhood.

The day after she died the coop was almost silent. Not just because Norma wasn't there announcing everything, but because all the other chickens felt her loss. Genghis, who normally greets the morning with a cacophony of crowing, made not one sound for two days.

It doesn't matter what the species. None of us get to potter through life without tough times. Times when we could use a wee star.

Lachlan’s School had “Back to School Night” this week. If you've never gone to one, it's basically a night for parents to get to meet their kid’s teachers. So, over the course of a couple of hours, parents go from class to class and get a presentation from each one about what’s expected for the year ahead.

And every year, I go to one of these I always come away with so much respect for teachers (not all of them, obviously). Because, not only do they have to deal with large groups of kids on a daily basis, they also have to periodically deal with the parents of those kids. And some of those parents are complete and utter jerks. But as a teacher, you're apparently not allowed to tell them that.

In our group of parents doing the rounds of Lachlan’s classes, there was one mother who interrupted each teacher’s presentation just as they began to speak. With much urgency, she'd announce whose Mom she was and then say she couldn't stay because she had to run off - only to be in the next frickin class we visited doing the same schtick. I don't know what she had to keep rushing off to do - maybe she was frying eggs or hot gluing some wobbly furniture in some other room - but at the end of the night, we’d all learned, that this poor kid had a mother who was very very busy.

But the trickiest of all to deal with was Mrs Tiger Mom. There was no class in which she did not have several questions. And no question which did not involve possible extra work, and tutoring for her beloved offspring. In one class she asked how late the teacher stayed to do extra work, because her beloved offspring went to after-school tutoring, but could come to further tutoring if the teacher were available for after-after-school tutoring.

At first I found her kind of amusing. Then irritating. Then I began to bear a grudge, because this kid that she had such standards for - who needed to be getting no lower than an A, who had been working on their college application essays for over a year now - this kid is a living creature, and therefore bound sometimes to fail.

Because we’re all human, right? And I mean I don't want to boast but some points in my life have been so ropey, I feel like I'm achieving just by having pants on.

Then I figured, maybe this kid is different. Maybe she really wants no less than an A ever. Maybe she'd relish another test/ credit/ extra point. Maybe she'd enjoy after- after-school tutoring, and possibly after-after-after-school tutoring too.

And then I realized I was ridiculous. I thought about my chickens and how sad they'd been this week. Whoever this kid is, she's a living creature, and we all feel.

There are times when the merit badge and award system, isn't such a great idea after all.

When Mark and I got home from ‘Back To School Night’, Lachlan wanted to talk.

Lachlan likes a chat. He likes fun and fairness and endlessly discussing all sorts of subjects. He would not, however, under any circumstances be up for after-school tutoring, let alone after-after-school tutoring. He’s not at all against getting an A in any of his subjects, but it has to fit in with hanging out with his friends at the gym, or online, or at the Mall.

He’s worried what the teachers might have said about him. Lachlan hates hates hates to be wrong. He wants us to understand how difficult it is managing school work, and hormones, and everyday peopling. He worries he's not good enough. I tell him that we all worry we're not good enough. We just present it in different ways.

And we go back into a discussion that we often have about perfectionism which is that it is the worst named ism because there's nothing perfect about it. It should be called paralysis-ism instead.

I tell him how I write these Notes each week, and if I worried that they had to be perfect, not one would get written. I remind him it's not about showing what you can do, but sharing what you can do. And even though it's only changing one syllable, it makes a whole world of difference.

So say, for example, I go to a party and I bring a cake, and I'm like, “Look at me with my big mahoosive cake. Look how magic my cake is. I'm showing you the best cake I ever made,” then that cake had better be completely and utterly flawless. But if I go to the same party with the same cake and say, “I brought this to share” then the cake is appreciated no matter what.

Lachlan nods and asks me if the same metaphor applies with steak pies (a reference to the worst meal I ever cooked - so bad that it has become the stuff of legend, here in Tweddley Manor). I reply, “No it doesn't, because some steak pies should never be shared.” And we both laugh.

Life is an imperfect journey and sometimes you get to do a wee lap of honor around your imperfections to remember what they are.

And then I tell him about the Tiger Mom, and he shakes his head sadly, as we both try to work out whose parent it could be.

It's not been the worst week. It's not been the best either. It's been a week, that's all. And I share that with you, in case it might be of use.

Till next week Xo

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