Back when they took my ovaries out and I began menopause along with a hormone therapy replacement regimen, I was warned about several side effects. Dry mouth, night sweats, reduced sex drive, increased fantasies of assisted living facilities with Bingo every weekend, etc. It sounded like just another Friday night to me, so I wasn’t too concerned. The problem is they never once, EVER warned me about the possibility of unexpectedly bursting into tears during a Parent Teacher Conference.
But that’s exactly what happened.
Yesterday was chock full of excitement – aside from the normal tantalizing exercises of bathing and rummaging for the good cold cereal, I attended back to back conferences at different schools with both of my children’s teachers. Drew’s began uneventfully with talk of test scores, classroom participation, upcoming projects and then a Ra-Ra lecture to Drew from his teacher about how much she believed in him, that his work habits were great and that she had ZERO concerns about his ability to transfer to middle school. I mumbled under my breath, “Mama might have to go to therapy over it but YOU will be just fine.” I was just trying to be lighthearted, but then the teacher looked at me and asked, “Well, what concerns do you have about him going to middle school?” Without warning the likes of Mount Everest erupted in my esophagus and I felt my eyes begin to burn. I looked away and said, “Oh nothing, I know he’ll be fine.” But as I looked back she was still staring at me, and something about the eye contact felt like an open invitation to “Go ahead Drew’s mom, tell me aaaaaall about your crazy”, and I lost it. “Is he your first?” she asked. “No!” I claimed, “he’s my LAST!”
It takes a special gift to turn a normal meeting into a counseling session, and just when I thought I had run out of gifts….
I’m just not ready. I don’t feel old enough to not have anyone in elementary school anymore – for crying out loud, my mom at my age had just had a baby. I’m not ready to throw a perfectly nice, innocent, wonderful boy into an ocean of filthy language, hormonal behavior and shady influence. It doesn’t matter to me that I believe he can handle it, I don’t want him to have to see it. Boys are different than girls, and I’m not ready to watch adolescence take hold of him and give him acne and armpit hair and prevent him from giving his mom a side hug before climbing onto the bus. I’M NOT READY!
Is anyone else seeing a pattern here? I’ve managed to humiliate my kids and myself in less than a week and I guarantee somewhere along the way my husband has hung his head in shame. For matters of convenience and to further my denial, I’m blaming the hormone pills.