"And them kids of yours are smart little puppies. How'd you get em that way? I read once that a pattern of super smart kids is that they were read to, sung to, and talked to while still in the womb. Maybe that's your secret? I dunno, just something about sitting with a guitar and singing Kumbayah to a person's tummy doesn't seem right:)"
Clearly, not a long time reader, not knowing that the only thing that I overachieve at is underachieving. ;)
When I was pregnant with the oldest child, I had one of those jobs where I had to be there at a specific time every day. You know, like most people. And so I would time my getting into the car with a set of songs they always played at 7am. Every day. It was not classical music. And I blew out my speakers in my little car with this daily project. And once or twice, I worried that I was doing damage to my child by letting him listen to AC/DC every day, but then just turned the music up a little louder.
And then, there was all of the dropping on the head for the middle child. I left most of it out of the baby book, so as to not give her more ammunition for her therapist to blame me. But when she was a newborn, the oldest was holding her - it was so sweet - and then he decided he was done and rolled her off his lap onto the floor. From the couch. Lovely. I'm sure it was one of my first days home by myself with the two of them. And I'm sure I sobbed and ate chocolate. But all I remember is the dropping on the head part.
To add to my list of fabulous parenting, there was the day when I was at least 15 months pregnant with the third child and we were shopping at Target. The middle child was notoriously bad about sitting in the cart. You see where this is going, don't you? She reached for something, I kept going, she lost her balance and fell out of the cart, directly on the top of her head. So there I was, four year old standing there, I'm sitting on the floor in Target, threw my purse randomly somewhere behind me and sobbing while clutching my screaming child. I'm sure that was a lovely sight. She wasn't bleeding, her pupils were the same size, I was a disastrous mess, but at least 10 Target employees gathered around and offered ice and water. You know that you did something bad when the Target manager calls you the next day to check on your kid.
And all that was in the midst of the time when my belly was so big and my little girl was so little that I would knock her down with my belly because she would get right under me and I couldn't see her and she could barely walk.
So, Mr. W, my children are smart in spite of me and my careful, careful by-the-book parenting.