When I was looking for work after mat leave, I had an interview that I thought went really well. I ended up knowing one of the panelists, the hiring manager was friendly and enthused about me having a baby. She asked lots of follow-up questions and the job was almost directly related to my degree.
Around the same time, I had another interview that felt awkward and stilted. I left thinking, “Oh boy, I did not put my best foot forward. I’m glad that’s over.”
To my surprise, I got the job from the interview I thought I flopped and didn’t get the one that had gone well. After that I thought to myself, “I can only control what I put out into the world. I can’t control what comes back.” I had no idea what happened behind the scenes that led to me getting a job I felt less qualified for and not getting the one where I thought I aced the interview.
I’ve taken this attitude into parenting to try to keep myself from going mad from the illogical randomness of children. Sometimes parenting feels like firing off resumès into an algorithm that’s skipping over your key words.
“Say please. Did you say please? What’s the magic word?” It can be so hard to know if you’re getting through. If they’re picking up what you’re putting down. So hard to know if your efforts are paying off. Is she healthier from those cucumber slices I lay beside the grilled cheese? Is the $80 a month for gymnastics leading to better strength and coordination? Was the tantrum from cutting her off from that last Bluey episode truly worth whatever benefits having eight minutes less screentime makes?
But then there are times that surprise you in a good way. When they’ve really picked up what you, or school, or grandma has been putting down.
We were driving to gymnastics in silence when my daughter piped up out of nowhere, “Whenever I think about that girl who couldn’t wear her orange shirt and had to go to sleep-away school, I think how sad that is.”
I was awakened from my daydreaming as I prepared to make a right turn.
“But I’m glad we have Orange Shirt Day now. I’m glad our teachers tell us about Orange Shirt Day and Terry Fox and stuff like that.”
This was late October–about a month after Truth and Reconciliation Day and even longer since the Terry Fox run. I didn’t know how much she had picked up from the school assemblies and our discussions at home.
I tried to elicit more information without being too obvious–like avoiding eye contact with a deer: “Why are you glad they teach you about that stuff, sweetie?”
My six-year-old suddenly turned into a self-conscious teenager with her reaction, “I dunno. ‘Cause it’s important” she retorted as if I had just accused her of something. I went into a monologue about how she’s right and even though some topics aren’t fun or happy they’re still important to learn about.
I must have still been thinking over my daughter’s reflection because I missed my turn and ended up overshooting and doing a huge loop to get to the gymnastics studio. When I got there, I looked at the clock, “Oh no! We’re 10 minutes late, I thought we were just a couple minutes behind!”
“That’s okay” my daughter responded, throwing off her shoes and running down the stairs to join her classmates on the long tramp.
“It is okay,” I thought. “It is okay that we’re late and it is way more than okay that my daughter was thinking about Orange Shirt Day a month after it happened.”
Trying our best is all we can really do as parents. We try to put down what we hope they will pick up. Then try again–and who knows–they might surprise us. They might just remember what’s important.
