Failure

I am handicapped. Well, sort of. I am socially challenged. Of course, I am speaking “tongue in cheek”. I remember a girl I was training about, um, 6 years ago. She was a student at the local high school, in the ‘DH’ class. DH stands for Developmentally Handicapped.

She threw a fit one time, in the middle of the restaurant which was, at the time, full of people. I pulled her outside. And, had a talk with her.

The first thing she threw at me was…

“Hey, I am handicapped. You cannot expect me to act like other people.”

Wrong statement chocolate chip cookie.

I sort of, in a controlled way, said, “I don’t care one whit about your so called handicap.” She looked back at me, very confused.

I said, “I am handicapped too. Did you know that?” She looked even more confused. I continued, “I am socially handicapped. I have a very low tolerance for stupidity. It makes me very angry. I don’t like people for the most part. I don’t like talking to them, I don’t like training them and I certainly don’t like dealing with them. They tend to really piss me off 99% of the time. My husband is physically handicapped. My daughter is emotionally handicapped. My other daughter is chemically challenged which means she is a stupid junkie who’s brain is fried. One of our cooks is bi-polar. One of our other cooks is language challenged. She can’t freakin read English all that well because she is German. I am raising a grandkid who is ADHD. Why don’t you take your stupid Developmentally Handicapped label and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine, okay?”

Then I walked back inside.

Three years later, she came to me and told me that was one of the more profound things she had ever heard.

Now THAT is really sad, LOL. But she told me that it made her realize that she had been using a medical diagnosis as a crutch her whole life, and that it had held her back. She thanked me, which of course, embarrassed me to no end, because, well, I am socially challenged.

I am not even sure where this blog came from. I think deep down, each one of us is handicapped in some manner. It’s called being human. None of us are perfect, after all. Each one of us carries our own little foibles.

I am sick and tired of being politically correct. What a weird society we live in now. Heck, you cannot even flip off the idiot in front of you who cuts you out of your parking space in Wal Mart anymore without risking something.

Does it come down to lack of accountability? I mean, come on. Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, Britney Spears. I call it children who weren’t made to be accountable for their actions from very early on.

Parenthood is often difficult and rampant with built in pitfalls. We, as parents, carry a child or father a child and then watch the burgeoning stomach of our beloved. Then, when the delicate little baby is born, we fall head over heels in love with the squalling, eating, pooping little baby.

And that love continues. There can be a point at which that stops, but that is another blog.

I remember the kids as they grew up. Blog readers of mine know we are on the second go around, kidlet wise. We are raising two grandkidlets, girls, ages 5 & 8. But the first set of kids, well, they aren’t all that old that I cannot remember.

Coming home from school. “I HATE MY TEACHER, she is MEAN to me.” My response was, “better learn to deal with her cause wait till you get your first BOSS if you think she is mean!”

No, I do not have all the answers. Trust me. One of those kids turned to drugs. And that put me (is still putting me) through hell.

But, I did try to make them accountable for their actions.

I think society and technology play a large part in the raising of today’s children. And, we as parents, are infinitely busier. Maybe not busier, busy in a different way. An absent way. And, there are too many things waiting in the offing to entertain our children. Entertain, not teach.

Three of our grandgirls tested in karate yesterday. Two, the 8 year old who lives with us and the six year old who lives with her parents both tested for a red belt, only one belt away from a black belt. Now, a black belt 6 and 8 year old is a pretty awesome thing.

The 6 year old did much better than I would have predicted. She was very worried about the test. The form is quite complex and that is a lot to remember when you are only 6 ½ years old. She did really well. I am proud of her and told her so. The red belt form is very long, and takes a good bit of learning. She tried hard and succeeded. She deserves accolades for doing so.

The 8 year old, on the other hand, should not have passed. She stopped three times during her form part of the test. She hadn’t practiced much this time around. Part of that was my fault, in that, due to the recent move, she hadn’t attended Karate her usual three or four times a week for the past few months. Part of it.

But a lot of it is her fault. She didn’t practice. And, she is a very smart, very gifted child, to whom many things come very easily.

Ooooh, sticky wicket there ! Am I wanting my child to fail? Damn skippy I am. Because, you see, that’s what happens in real life when you don’t perfect your skills or you rely on a crutch. You fail.

But, the judges passed her.

In the locker room after, I spoke calmly and quietly and privately to her as she changed. I said, “you know you should have failed that test.”

She looked at me. I continued. “You forgot some of your form, you got turned around and your moves were not very well executed.” She said, “But Meemaw, I passed.”

And I said, “I know honey, but you shouldn’t have. I think that you are going to be practicing at home each day from now on, if you want to continue in Karate.”

Now, I am not a football dad, or a soccer mom, or even a karate mom. I have, until now, left it totally up to the kids to decide when and where they dedicate themselves. I don’t really watch them practice, usually using the time to run to Wal Mart so I can grab whatever is on my list of the day without kids trailing along.

I don’t push. I don’t prod. I don’t say, do better. I am not a cheerleader for their delicate little psyche’s.

That is the instructor’s job. Not mine. I don’t interfere with his job, and he doesn’t interfere with my parenting. That works for me.

I did go to the instructor, (and the judges,) with whom I have a very good rapport. I said to him…

“please don’t ever do that again.” He already knew. He asked why. I said, “you know, you aren’t doing her any favors when you pass her. Everything in this girl’s life has come way to easy for her. She doesn’t have to study to get straight A’s in school. She sees something one time and remembers it. She is usually good at whatever she attempts. If she doesn’t learn the lesson of nothing ventured, nothing gained at least ONE time while she is still little, she won’t learn it until it’s too late.”

Now, I don’t want him to fail her if she deserves a promotion. That’s not fair either. But, I do not want any of her teachers or instructors in any part of her life to pass her when she doesn’t earn it either.

So, I will gently remind her that the competition out there is FIERCE. She is going to tournament in two weeks. She will be competing against other’s who train daily, and are very good. She wasn’t very far away from the State Champ last tournament season. At her last tournament, she kicked the current State Champ in her age group’s BUTT in sparring. She scored 8 points to the girls 3 points. She was a sparring machine dressed in her little sparring gear. She punched, she kicked, she scored! She made toast out of the girl.

She wants to be State Champ this tournament season. She has a chance. A good chance. But, she needs to work for it. We will see how badly she wants it I guess.

Parenting is really hard. Because it is not just your job to feed, clothe and love your children. You must also prepare them for the big and bad world out there. Not so easy to do. And, you have to do it without breaking them down, without hurting them, without scarring them for life. You have to empathize, criticize and cheer them on.

I really do think we should have a manual. Sheesh!