“Can you please bring me my Chromebook?”
That text message was sent by my eighth-grade son.
“I’m on my way,” I responded.
My twins will be 14 years old soon, and as much as I hate to admit it, this has to end. I knew I needed to devise a plan to wean them (and me) off their “Mom Butler Services.”
When my twins were in first grade, the school phone number popped up on the caller ID. I panicked. Are they hurt? Are they sick? Are they in trouble? I expected to hear the voice of the principal or a teacher. But, instead, the sound of a six-year-old girl’s voice emitted through the speaker.
“Mom, can you please bring me my homework?”
“Of course, sweetie, I’ll be right over.”
And so it began.
Before I drove to the school that first time, my husband said, “Don’t bring it to her.”
Really? He was the “yes man”. The one who allowed our kids to climb up that steep wobbling ladder attached to an equally steep slide. He’s the guy that buys them over $50 worth of movie theater candy. Does he really want me to say no to something that seemed pretty benign to me?
“She needs to learn to remember to bring it and you bringing her homework doesn’t help her to do that. If you bring it to her she learns that her mom will always bail her out,” he said.
My first reaction to this was, “What is wrong with her thinking her mom will always bail her out?” But then after giving it some more thought, I knew he was right.
I just couldn’t say no, though, so I brought her homework to the school. I continued to do so when any of my three children called because they forgot their lunch or gym clothes.
Two years ago, I read an article about how a Catholic boys’ school posted the following sign on its front entrance: “If you are dropping off your son’s forgotten lunch, books, homework, equipment, etc., please TURN AROUND and exit the building. Your son will learn to problem-solve in your absence.”
My initial thought was, “I wish our school posted that sign because then it would absolve me of my guilt if I didn’t bring it.” But at the same time, I wanted to be able to help my kids when they asked me for help.
Now that my twins are in eighth grade, my husband’s sentiments are starting to resonate stronger with me while my protective mama-bear instinct has slowly dissipated. I feel more like a mama bird who needs to nudge them out of that comfy well-insulated nest. In five years, they may be going to college. So I developed a plan. They each are allowed three passes—three times during the school year, I will bring a forgotten item to school. I also taped a sign on the front door, reminding them to bring their homework, lunch, etc.
I’m cautiously optimistic that this plan will enable my kids to be more responsible. I realize it is a growing process for all of us and I need to go at my own moderate pace. There will likely be setbacks when they ask for a forgotten lunch but hopefully, we will be able to stay the course.