Porter and my Parenting

We enjoyed Porter's 1st grade music program last night. All the kids and me. We caught a snip of video for dad to view and for all of Porter's posterity.

He was darling

and he wouldn't like me using the adjective darling to describe him. He would want me to say that He was awesome. Or that "he rocked!"

which he did

The kids were awesome too. No screaming, no fighting for the camera, no complaints about supporting their brother. They did great. I felt like a decent enough parent, seeing my kids behave and perform in an "above average" kind of way.

After the program we chatted with friends and teachers and helped put chairs away. In usual Graham fashion we were some of the last to leave. But not the very last, there were a few families left.

"what were you thinking putting a banana in your locker Porter?" was the question posed by another lingering parent.

"it wasn't a banana, it was crackers, with peanut butter in them, I swear" replied my darling son.

"was it a banana the janitor had to clean up today?" I asked, the story Porter spewed after school was now becoming more clear.

Porter had reported that his class would no longer be aloud to have "snack" because there were bugs in the lockers due to kids leaving their half eaten snacks inside them.

-I am going to interject here that this is the first and only school we've attended where kids have to pack a snack in addition to their regular lunches. Odd to me from the start but even more odd are the reports from my kids that the common snacks to bring are cheetohs and little debbie snack cakes-my kids can take pretzels, fruit, and crackers with peanut butter. If they are REALLY lucky, they can pack whole grain goldfish or low fat triscuits-

"yep, Mr. Jim had to fumigate the lockers and wipe them all down." said the jovial parent.
"now none of the kids can have snack. Silly Porter" she says with a wink.

"oh, I had no idea it was a banana..." said me.

"well, how could you possibly be expected to keep track of things like that. I mean, you have (she counts heads with her finger) 6 KIDS!"

in other words: "you are a mother to so many, we can't expect you to actually MOTHER".

Remarks like this have been a part of my daily life since I had my 4th child. Somehow, upon reaching that number of offspring, I have somehow been exempted from actually having to rear them into productive members of society who have manners, and who are responsible for themselves and their actions and who know things like how to prevent lockers from becoming infested with ants by throwing away old fruit. Or eating it when its snack time.

This line of reasoning, while now a common occurrence in my life, is baffling to me. I chose to have ALL of the children I am rearing. I should be looked upon as one who felt she was capable of molding them into functioning and contributing members of society, right?

Apparently, my lack of ability to rear the children became evident the moment I decided to have so many of them.

And maybe they are right, but I don't think they are. I mean, the day Porter told me he was going to take a banana for snack, here is what I told him;

"good food choice buddy. Better than crackers or pretzels!"

Here is what I did not tell him;

"better be sure not to leave it in your locker, because with a little time that banana will attract bugs, and the janitor will have to come and clean out your locker and tell the kids you can't have snack any more. O.k. Porter? ya got that? Bananas will go rotten if they stay in your locker..."

I forgot to mention that detail. Silly me. How could I possibly be expected to remember important parental advice like that when I Have

One: who takes out the garbage on his own and gets almost straight A's without my having to babysit him

Two: who hasn't had a late homework paper but once or twice in her life, and who often rises on her own in the morning at 6 a.m. to complete her morning chores

Three: who can cheerfully capture her younger siblings in the very palm of her hand with the phrase "lets play school!" and a wave of her hand to the white board

Four: who at 6 years old frequently remembers to read his scriptures before he goes to sleep

Five: who at the age of 4 can now make her own bed, her own sandwich and put on her own clothes, not to mention sorting the laundry by color if I let her

Six: who is still pretty young, but who loves to be held and hugged by her siblings and who knows how to pray on her own

kids. How could I possibly be expected to actually parent them? Only heaven knows how, so I try to consult with heaven ALOT on the matter.

Have a great weekend!