Some Thoughts From the Slow Kid in the Class

I was talking to my friend yesterday (about quitting smoking, yes, ok, it's the only thing I have to talk about.  It's like the pics of my babies I used to carry around.  I just keep pulling it out). I was wallowing in the sadness of quitting and she said-- the only thing you have to do is not smoke a cigarette.  That's it.

Then I started bitching about the whole narrative of addiction, and my refusal to ever believe I am powerless over anything (addiction?  I'll kick addiction's ass! I wish addiction WOULD say something to me. SAY SOMETHING) and she said (and I'm probably totally fucking this up-- she said it real smart)-- it's not about being powerless in the sense of not being able to do it.  It's about saying I'm not going to DO this anymore. I'm disengaging.  HAH, I found the chat log-- I'm just going to quote her (I warned her I would do this). "Saying you're powerless over something just means that you're done struggling. It's not you vs. cigarettes anymore. You're just reframing the narrative." I would add that it's also not about reframing the narrative into this sad tale of my friendship with cigarettes.  Yes, acknowledge it, but don't wallow in it.

I know, I'm the slow kid.  It's always the simple stuff I fail to understand. I've been in literature programs with some of the smartest people in the country, and it's rarely the complicated, theoretical stuff that mind boggles me (ok-- sometimes it does). It's the simple stuff I fail to comprehend. Being a good parent means getting up every morning and good parenting it up.  It's not some deep problem that needs analysis.  You mostly just split second decision it:

kid is driving me nuts.  Beat kid?
No.
BEAT KID!
No.
I know, I know, you should beat the kid!
NO. DO NOT BEAT THE KID.

Problem solved-- you don't beat the kid.  Bam, you're a good parent. Well, you're a good parent as long as you don't forego beating the kid in order to lock it in a cage or use your vast intellect to call it names.  But it's really not that hard on the day to day, in the trenches sense.

A lot of my childless friends seem to marvel at my ability to parent (hey, I would too if I'd met me), and my answer is always, it's actually not that hard.  Because, deep down, it isn't.  You love those bad ass kids. You marvel at their amazitosity. Damn they're cute. They love you.  They want a good life.  You want a good life for them. You dance them around a little bit, you talk to them, you show them some cool shit.  You make sure they know who Michael Jackson was. You read them a couple creepy-cautionary fairytales so they don't have sex with wolves but do kiss frogs. You make them some meals. You buy them a couple outfits. Done. 

I make it difficult.  My past, my previous experiences, my fears. If you've talked to a kid, you know they're not that complicated.  The little things amuse them.  I make it hard. OK, I'm over simplifying.  Lots of road blocks come up to try to keep you from good parenting it up.  But, in my experience, the really tough ones there's no solution for.  You just have to be brave and hold on and try not to lose any passengers. The rest of the problems don't take that much brain power (carrots or ho-hos?  Ho-hos!).  Thirteen year olds in the 'hood do it all the time.