Silver Bullet Confessionals

The Silver bullet has been cruising up and down the streets lately delivering children to their various lessons, tap lessons here, horse riding lessons there, chess competitions, swimming training, youth group, cricket matches. When you have five kids you can spend a lot of time in the car. It's a good thing I don't mind driving. As a child I often heard mum's complain about being taxi drivers for their teenage kids. I can't say I'm complaining. Actually I seem to be enjoying it. There's nothing like a long stretch of road to get to know a kid well. I drive and listen mostly.

I'm the bartender and the hairdresser all rolled into one oh, and don't forget the priest. For some reason one of my children has felt the need to confess to me all his misdeeds from the last year. Who would have thought. He's come to me to be absolved from all his sins. I try to stay calm and in control, but I must say my toes literally curl up with each new confession. The labyrinth of the pubescent preteen mind unfolded to me in all it's nakedness. It's not a pretty thing. I phone Yoda to ask when his first sexual fantasies began, "Four years old" he quips. I almost believe him. I pray my advice is sound.I look at 12 year old boys with new eyes, I think I know what they are thinking...at times like these I think to myself , I could do with a man.

N has just started drummies. ( baton twirling and marching) The squad is marching on Saturday. Since N has only been to two practices  she was not picked for the march. She came home crushed. Disappointment written all over her face.
N: " I wasn't picked for the squad for Saturday"
Mom: I guess that's cause you have just started. I'm sure that you will be picked soon.
N: No I won't.
Mom:  I know your teacher came to tell me how well you are doing. I'm glad you didn't give up though.
N: I just did.
Mom: Oh, you just gave up drummies?
N: Yes, I'm never going to get anywhere.
Mom: Would you like me to tell your teacher you will be giving up?
N:No.
N runs herself a hot bubble bath ( something I always do when life gets a bit much) She's seven and she's learning to handle something that life dishes out for free...disappointment. I'm quite proud of her.
After a good soak in the tub she comes to me again.
N: You know what mom, I'm just going to practice very hard and get in next time.
Mom:( thinks)Attagirl!

M comes home from tap dancing. She hasn't had the opportunity to tap dance for years and is really excited to be tapping, stepping on her heels and toes doing some shuffling and a bore change or two. After class I can see she is not at all happy. Her sad is always so angry. She is mad. I couldn't even get the most basic of steps right mom. She curls up near the window seat, her face away from me and cries bitter tears of frustration. I coo like a dove, trying to sound encouraging. We go home and the home is unusually quiet as the silence of her tap shoes fills the space of the house. I'm convinced in time I'll hear the old tap tap shuffle again down the passage. I hope so. I think how important it is not to help a butterfly emerge from it's cocoon. I wonder ( the lyrics of a local band ) Does a caterpillar die when it turns into a butterfly? I think it would be nice to have someone to parent with.

On the way home from chess, I am enthralled by the brilliance of D's maths brain as he explains to me the inner workings of a math class he just had. I understand nothing but I'm not alone it turns out neither does the rest of his class.

I know who has a crush on who, what the piano teacher said, what the coach said, which body part which girl hates about themselves. I think of all of this knowledge, drip by drip, trip by trip,and I feel sorry for Roger, missing out on all the nuances of each incredible human being and for a small moment in time I feel very very lucky.