Category: Motherhood

The caller ID said North Carolina. Hmm, I don’t know anyone from there. I picked up the phone with a cautious hello.

“Can I speak to M—— or L—— ?” said the professional voice.

I nearly dropped the phone. Who wants to speak to my 9 year old and 6 year old?

“Is this 9**-***-***2? Do I have the right number?”

“Yes, you do. What’s this concerning?”

“We’re calling from Blackboard Collaborate. They downloaded the 30 day free trial and we want to see if they are happy with the service.”

I nearly laughed out loud. No, I would not share their age!

“Thank you for the call… Yes its working fine… They will call you if they need help… Thank you for your concern.”

And I hung up. And finally laughed out loud.

You see, my children attend a unique school – it’s all online! The Shluchim Online School is a religious school that affords them the ability to access high-level Jewish education even when it’s not locally available.

It’s quite different than attending a “regular” school, its all online. Yes, in a classroom; with rules and permissions and a whiteboard and friends, just that they’re on webcams and across the globe. It’s truly a marvelous use of technology. And the kids learn and love it too.

Now, the platform the school uses to run this program is Blackboard Collaborate, which I now know is based in North Carolina.

And so when the kids “hang out” with their friends across the country and play “School”, they cleverly figured out how to make their own online classroom. It is the “in” thing with their friends; download a free 30 day trial of the platform and you get to run the show! Once you have your own classroom, you can invite friends and rule the room! Oh the joy the kids get from being able to control the classroom, turning off each other’s mics and webcams.

And to think this poor company in North Carolina imagines that they have dozens of potential customers downloading their trial software when in truth, its a bunch of third graders!! I kinda felt bad for them; perhaps business wasn’t quite as good as they thought!

But hey, maybe they did know they were dealing with kids. Maybe they were just efficiently serving these little guys with great customer service. The way they treat everyone else, they were treating them like real people!

That got me thinking: They may be little people now, but people indeed. Adults of the future. They have ambitions and concerns. Sure they’re mischievous and limits-pushing too! And precisely at those challenging moments, I take a deep breath, zoom out and remember the bigger picture; these little guys will be successful adults one day.

And that helps me navigate the chaos that comes along with getting them there.

This leaves me wondering; what type of customer service do I offer my children?

When my 9 year old excitedly reports he wants to be an engineer for Lego because he knows the ins and outs so well, do I follow up with him, motivate him, like the Blackboard Collaborate reps did?

When my 6 year old thinks he’ll be a world class juggler because he can throw (but not catch!) juggling balls; do I even offer him a trial period?

When my 4 year old wants to vacuum the house (which really is NOT a help!) do I give him a chance or brush him aside?

Yes, I do think the Blackboard Collaborate guys have it right; our kids deserve the best customer service.

The air smells of freshly baked goodies; on the table sits an ornate, ivory porcelain tray filled with perfectly round chocolate chip cookies. A tall glass of milk stands proudly by each seat.

Little feet walk calmly into the room (after washing their hands, of course) and politely sit down to enjoy our 3 PM snack. We talk about our goals and needs, share insights and inspiration.

I smile to myself as each child waits for his/her sibling to finish talking before sharing their thoughts. No one talks while chewing.

So well behaved!

Everyone finishes up, wipes the table clear of crumbs and goes on their way.

And then I open my eyes.

Pounding, stampeding, shoving and talking loudly, my boisterous crew storms the kitchen, ready for snack.

As fast as only a mom can do, I peel and slice apples; some rectangular, some triangular; some with peels, some without peels; with stems and without stems, all custom ordered. Whoops, it wasn’t rectangular enough. Quick fix and it’s better. Uh oh, still a .01 cm of stem left; my mistake.

Brother #3 pushes brother #4 off his chair and brother #2 knocks  sister’s plate on the floor.

Phew, everyone is settled.

And then everyone is talking at once. They share details of their vivid dreams (amazing how brother#4 always has the same dream as brother #1!). They talk about games they invented, crafts they made…I catch every fifth word and nod enthusiastically.

Such excitement! Such energy!Such a great group of active kids!

Forget the porcelain plates. The cookies. The milk.

That was how I thought it would be- before I had kids. Oh boy am I the wiser now!

It took some months (ok, years!) till I discovered that it was me who set the bar of a picture perfect snack time. I was the one  who had set the unrealistic expectation!

And since the day that I realized that I was the one who had painted the cookies and milk image, I took the liberty to remodel it.

And while I was at it, I changed the definition of picture perfect too!

I gave up on the impeccable snack time illusion and embraced my reality of  “picture perfect.”

And they’re off. Before I could even give out drinks!

Today is not one of the days I’m going to reprimand them for leaving a mess behind. They’re too busy with more important things. There’s a whole world out there for them to explore and I know they’re working on it!

(And I confess, I don’t think they washed their hands before eating. )

If Newton hadn’t discovered the law of gravity, I bet my kids would have.

After all, they’ve tried and proven it more time than I’d like to admit.

Bouncy balls; that’s elementary stuff. They’ve done advanced testing; shoes, clothes, dolls, lego and even riding toys!

See, in my house there’s this great loft/play room overlooking the dining room-and soon after we moved in to our house, the overlook was deemed the perfect launching pad for scientific experiments.

At least I want to think of it like that.

Why else would they drop things down? Just because they want to hear the deafening, ear splitting sound on contact with the laminate wood floor?  Nah, can’t be. Just because they want to drive their ever so try-to-be patient parents insane? Nah, not my kids. They would never do that!

But recently I was thinking maybe they would.  Maybe they were out to drive me crazy.

Now I know what you’re thinking…you’re shaking your head saying – you’ve gotta make some firm rules in your house. No throwing. Zero tolerance.

Guess what – that’s precisely what I did! And continue to do! But once again, the good book has failed me. My kids must’ve read the antidote book of how to outsmart your parents. I’m sure it exists in the kid underworld, probably passed around in the hospital nursery during night shift during the first few days after birth.

So the rule is there, it is forbidden to drop things down from the second floor; yet my wise and innovative children are not done testing the laws of gravity.

And then, just yesterday, I had a new revelation of sorts.

We were all hanging out in the loft/playroom and the baby was crawling around with some Mega Blocks in his hand and he crawled over to the overlook…stuck out his hand…and dropped the toy down. Did I mentioned that the noise on contact with easy-to-clean mothers-dream laminate flooring is deafening?? 11 month old smiled to himself, got another toy, crawled back over and down it went with a crash.

At that moment there was a new revelation; they don’t do it just to drive me mad!

The proof? The 11 month old, this little guy; he is still on my team, so far he still dances to my tune. We’re buddies, he’s the one I can still count on. He wouldn’t be trying to push the limits with me.

And that’s when I officially discovered the New and Improved Law of Gravity:

If it can fall, kids will throw it down.

“Mommy, it seems like someone didn’t do the laundry this week!”

Uh oh, she’s talking to me. Help, where should I hide? I duck into the kitchen.

“Mommy, it really seems like the laundry wasn’t done this week. ”

The voice is coming closer… she will find me, what should I say? All my excuses flood my mind; this was a busy week! Sunday was the upshernish, catered by me! Monday was a big kosher takeout order, again catered by me! Tuesday and Wednesday – that was a blur of picking up and dropping off kids at various places and times.

And then comes the next round of thoughts – my good old friend Guilt. Why can’t I get it all done? Maybe I’m not such a great mom after all. Yesterday I had it all down pat, and now I’m falling short. I’m inadequate. The kids know it. She’s accusing me.

And then she’s there; right in front of me.

I straighten myself out and smile at my charming 7 yr old daughter. The lone sister of 5 brothers, she’s my only female friend around here. And these days, she’s quite the co captain of the ship.

“The laundry? What are you looking for?” It was a specific pink shirt. “Hmm, y’know I didn’t get to all the laundry yet, It’s been quite a week!”

“Oh yes,” she agrees. “What a busy week!”

And off she goes, to choose something else from her closet.

I HAD done laundry. At least 6 loads of it! Just not all of it. In this part of town, laundry never reaches THE END stage. But everyone DID have clean clothes to wear today.

I’m not inadequate after all!

But that sentence rang in my ears for hours… I’ve heard it (ok, said it!) in many variations: Someone didn’t clear their place at the table; Someone didn’t make their bed; Someone didn’t brush their teeth; Someone didn’t put their shoes in their cubby.

And I couldn’t help but wonder. Could it be when I say that, they feel the way I did? Accused? Inadequate? Not living up to my expectations? Like a failure?

They’re kids and they’re doing what they’re supposed to do! I think the world of them. They’re clever, fun and charming, to name a few. I make a mental note that no matter how many times a day I will trip over their little shoes in the wrong places, I will do my best to make sure they know what I really think of them.