village people

I was reading something this morning from a mom who was trying to help her child get the education she feels he deserves. Which is admirable. I think all parents should take an avid interest in their children's education.

But there was one thing she said that struck me. She said, "I am the only advocate for my child."

Only.

And I thought, how sad.

How sad that she does not have anyone else to speak up for her child, to make sure her child is getting everything he needs, to make sure he's doing the best he can do and being the best he can be, to help him up if he falls.

See, I'm pretty lucky. I have Nature Boy, my co-conspirator and my co-parent. I have Ty and Sam, who will tease their little brother to no end, but will kick the ever-living shit out of anyone who tried to hurt the Ubergoober. I have my parents and Nature Boy's parents, who spend a lot of time with their grandchildren and make sure that they all are getting what they need to be productive humans and then yelling at us - the parents - if our kids do not have everything they need. I also have a wonderful extended family of aunts, uncles, cousins, in-laws, out-laws and friends who are there whenever Goober needs anything at all.

And at school, I have Goober's classroom teacher, music teacher, social studies teacher, phy ed teacher, art teacher and principal all watching over him, making sure he gets what he needs to be successful. I'm especially blessed because they all, every single one of them, will call me if there is ever a concern. I once got a call late in the evening from Goober's social studies teacher because he had been struggling to finish his work and he told her his parents couldn't help because they were too busy. So she called to see what was happening, if there was anything she could do to help, if there was anything we could do to help her, if we could work together to figure out what was going on in Goober's enormous head. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate this, that she took the time to talk to me, to listen to me, to involve me in my son's education and then follow through on the plan we created together.

This poor woman, though, she has none of that.

Or maybe she does, but she honestly believes that only she can do what's best for her child. And I don't think that's good, either, because then you miss out on all the things that all those other people can do for your child.

Like Nature Boy, who makes Goober unload the dishwasher, even though I think he's too young for that kind of responsibility. Or like my dad, who took the training wheels off Goober's bike a couple summers ago, even though I thought surely Goober would fall and bust his head open. Or Ty, who taught his brother how to play tackle football, even though I was sure both of them would get hurt. Or his teacher, who gives out spelling words so difficult I can't even use them in a sentence. Or the swimming instructor who put Goober in a more difficult swimming class than I signed him up for, even though I thought he'd drown.

All of these people understood something about Goober I didn't -- he was ready for these things, even if I wasn't. But because they did all this, Goober is a better person. He can ride a two-wheeled bike like a pro. He can spell "neighborhood" without pause. He can do the front crawl for the entire width of the pool. But he's still my baby, and sometimes I forget that he's growing up and becoming his own person, so it's good that I have all these people to remind me that. See, I'm lucky that way. I understand that it takes a village to raise a child. Pardon the cliche, but it's true.

And I'm thankful for every last person in my village.