Always the Perfect Mama

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

She said it so casually, and I wish it were true.

N recently turned 7. She’s growing so fast, and I love it. People tell me not to wish the years away, but truth be told, I can’t wait until she’s a teenager. You see, I’ve spent the last 13 years as a middle school educator. The adolescent years are my jam. I know what to say, what to do, and what to expect. These days, I am flying by the seat of my pants. I have no idea what I am doing, if what I am saying is correct, or if I am merely providing the trauma for her future therapist to help her process.

On the way to school today, N and I talked about turning 10, 13, and 16 … she is excited to turn 10. Why? Because she will “finally be doing math she doesn’t understand and I can help her with it.” ?

You see, that’s what I do for a living. I own a tutoring business, and I primarily assist middle and high school students with their math courses. And so, apparently, my child is excited to turn 10 because that’s when she will stop understanding math.

Hopefully that’s not the case – hopefully she has my math mind.

But that’s not the story here.

The story here is that my child is convinced that she will always want to learn from mama.

“Maybe you’ll need help with math when you’re 10, sweetheart. But maybe not. And if you do, you won’t want my help,”

“Why, mama? You help the other kids. Why can’t you help me?”

“Well, sweetheart, as you get older and become a teenager, you aren’t going to want mama’s help. You’re going to eventually start thinking that your parents couldn’t possibly understand you, and that we are wrong about everything.”

And that’s when she said it:

“Yeah, that’s not going to happen.”

And I sat quietly with it for a few moments.

“It’s not, mama. You’re a math genius. I’ll always want you to teach me.”

I wish I had it on a recording. Audible evidence that she once had me on a pedestal. Because the time will come. She will doubt every word that comes out of my mouth. I will know nothing, be completely unreasonable, and have zero idea of what it’s like to be a teenager. And because she’s my child, those statements will likely come with a door slam that shakes the foundation of the house.

I know this is in my future, because that’s what teenagers do – and she’s my child. I wouldn’t expect anything less, and I’m prepared for it.

And when the time comes, I’ll sit outside her door and slide the millions of little love notes she’s written to me in the last seven years under her door. Because I’m that mom ??‍♀️

Until then, I’ll let her believe she will always think I am a perfect mama.

Read more parenting adventures:

Mother’s Day Meltdown

The Time I thought N Would be Abducted

Let Children be Children

When Your Baby is Hurting

Surviving Single Parenthood