I recently read a post by Paula at Battling On categorising parents according to different traits. I found it funny and interesting and saw many characteristics of other parents I knew. However I never commented nor tweeted what kind of parent I thought I was for one reason.... I didn't want to appear smug! You see, despite being a Control Freak, as soon as I read the first definition, The Perfect Parent, I felt it was me! See, now you think I'm conceited and smug too, don't you?
Yesterday, we had Learning Review Day at the lads school. Andy is in Year 9, heading into his GCSE year in September. Joe is a year behind. Learning Review Day is similar to Parent's Evening, but we only speak to their Form Mentor/Class Teacher. Andy's mentor is a wonderfully quirky lady, very outspoken and honest, the kind of woman you want looking out for your kid in the playground and definitely not someone you'd have to square up to. She said such admiring things about Andy, complimented him on his manners, his behaviour and his effort. She said we should be proud of how well we'd brought him up.
Joe's mentor is almost a boy which may explain why Joe gets on so well with him. Joe's results exceeded their targets in every subject... except P.E. (well, he IS his mother's son!). His mentor said Joe was a pleasure to have in class and that his behaviour and attitude couldn't be any better.
So needless to say, I was beaming. I almost cried I was so proud. Proud of myself and Paul for the job we'd done bringing up the boys, but also proud of them for all the work they'd put in at school and growing in gentlemen.
So that's why I see myself as The Perfect Parent.... at the moment. I know all good things come to an end. I know one day I'll be cleaning Joe's puke from the bathroom floor and one morning, I'll find Andy asleep outside the door after a late night and forgetting his key. As they grow older, I don't doubt they'll break hearts, drink too much, skip classes, miss deadlines and slam many a door. And on those days you'll find me sitting in a corner, with a glass of wine, looking back on old school reports and reminiscing.
But please, for now, let me bask in the glory of my smug Perfect Parent status.