I like helping. I enjoy helping. I derive satisfaction from helping. However, seldom does homework fall under this category for me. One would think it would. It does not. In our house it’s often a knock-down, drag-out fight involving a lot of shouting–sometimes from me. Lots of weeping and wailing and spinning of the wheels–I also gnash my teeth. The amount of resistance I encounter on some nights could power a small village and still have reserves. Afterschool in our house can be compared to a scene from The Inferno. Did I mention that I feel like weeping, wailing and gnashing my teeth?
Then, there are those nights where all goes well and the collective “we” enjoy working together and cooperation is the word of the night. Tonight is not one of those nights. Apparently Little Man thinks that Chief is easier to work with than me…if I were a person who ran out and tatted myself for every life event, homework would get a special tat. For the record I do not have any tatoos, but I have a post in mind about them. Maybe I’d write “The Inferno” on the inside of my arm so that when it is time to do homework I’d stroke that spot on my arm and say a little mantra or prayer to myself to banish thoughts of running a butter knife into my carotid.
I find homework a low point of the evening–not every day but some of them. It’s a battle that I try not to engage in and somehow the emotional current of homework sweeps me away with it. Homework can be fun and there are many times that it actually is–I look forward to more of those kind of nights. I’m not one to do or to compulsively check their homework–I facilitate and even that knocks the spirit out of me.
Tonight I walk away from the battlefield with a bruised ego, feeling like a shell of my former self. I’m ready for bed, my friends. Am I the only one who feels like this?