From the Mom of the Not Honor Roll Kid - by Vanessa Phillips

So, you become a mom, you see your kids’ bright futures in their little sparkling baby eyes. You fall in love with them immediately, they’re perfect. I’m a mom to this baby boy and he’s so perfect. I’m so lucky. How did I get this lucky? Is someone coming to take him from me? There’s no way on earth I could have gotten this lucky. Time passes, you get through those toddler years. The temper tantrums, the mini fights with a tiny human that has more power over you than you ever thought even a big human could have. You cave, you give in, hey, they aren’t small forever everyone tells you. In the blink of an eye everyone says. More time passes, they’re in school, you cry on their first day of kindergarten; you hang up all of their art work, every holiday is the most fun it’s ever been. They start growing up a bit, they’re well into those school years…you get a couple phone calls here and there, we need you to sign some behavior reports. Ok, “he’s just being a boy.” Working away at your job, you get some more calls to sign more reports. Well, ok, I guess it’s time to ground him. Your boy mom heart breaks and you take his fun things away. He gets a good behavior report, yay, whew, sigh of relief and move on. A week later, the phone rings again…..more things to sign. Ok, back to being grounded. That’ll show him. He fulfills his punishment. You move back on. Your phone rings again in the middle of a huge meeting. You run out thinking he must be hurt….No, no no….you need to come pick him up. Oh my god is he ok? Yes ma’am he’s fine but the boy he fought isn’t. What? The boy he fought? He must have been provoked. I’m on my way. You learn the story of how your son provoked a fight and started swinging on the entire school….you meet with the administrators, you apologize on his behalf, you hang your head in shame and get in the car. You question him and read him the riot act. You’re pissed. You’re embarrassed! He has nothing to say. Hmmm, he must be speechless - he’s grounded again. That’ll really show him. I’m taking EVERYTHING away. He fulfills another punishment, this time longer. Ok. We are good. Sitting in front of your boss in a 1:1 about your pay and your phone rings. You watch it ring, flashing in front of you…you’re sweating, your stomach hurts but you can’t answer. The voicemail flashes. The phone rings again. You’re dying for this meeting to end. It ends you HAUL ASS to a quiet place and call. “Come pick up your son.” Oh ok, is he sick? No mom, he’s not sick, he’s refusing to do any work, he’s disrespectful to teachers and he’s trying to fight other students. The commute of shame. The walk of embarrassment into the school. You barely hear what they tell you. You sign the paperwork. You yell in the car. You get no response. You ground him, take his things away, cancel his birthday party, take his gifts back even. You do this same activity for every birthday from age 10 through 14. No parties, no gifts, no cell phone, no nothing. For years. But the calls don’t stop. The walk of shames don’t get easier. You’ve signed your name on so many reports you feel like you work at the school more than you work at your job. You have to tell your boss, your fellow co-workers….you don’t want them to think you’re leaving early or skipping out of work. People look at you like they feel sorry for you. Moms you were once friends with stop texting. The school talks to you like they talk to your child. You feel like a complete failure. The worst part? He doesn’t care. Take his things away? He will find someone else’s to borrow. Tell him he can’t leave? He will wait until you fall asleep. Take his cell phone away? He has a “trap” phone. Nothing works. The behavior continues. More calls, more reports, detentions, suspensions, smoking/vaping mandatory courses, police reports…you are devastated. Those sparkling baby boy eyes faded. You slowly take your handmade artwork gifts down because it’s too hard to look at. You don’t find joy in holidays or birthdays, even your own. Your whole life and who you are has turned into a failed parenthood. You are THAT mom. You have THAT child. It’s encompassed every ounce of joy you have. The years continue, high school, driving, milestones you wish you could celebrate. You allow yourself to look at everyone on social media celebrating their honor roll students and their athletes and their drivers license. You think it’s just you that has this life. You stop posting pictures and family vacays and you have no "IM SO PROUD" statements to make or messages on Facebook wishing your son a happy birthday and telling him how he’s grown into a perfect son. You start to accept this life. You dwell. You wait for the calls. You actually make backup plans for someone to cover you at work or someone to pick him up when they call - because they are going to call. You learn to not cry at school. You learn he’s not going to be impacted by your yelling. You learn that taking things away doesn’t help. He doesn’t care. Why do you care so much? Do you care? Or are you more worried about what other people think? Ah, yes. You start letting that go. You stop worrying about the school and your job and your “friends” and family think. You pull it together and you start owning this. So what, he’s 15 with a massive tattoo of your birthday. You start talking to your son like a man, like a man that works for you and isn’t holding up his end of the bargain. You have REAL talks with him. You listen to your husband or a man on you tube or in your life that knows what BOYS need and what they accept. You realize boys NEED men. They need moms, but they NEED a man to show them the things. You will not ALWAYS be the honor roll kids’ mom. If you are, awesome, enjoy it! If you aren’t, hang in there, hold on to the rollercoaster and buckle up that belt. You are going to cry. You are going to have low moments. But, you appreciate the good times even more. You will learn things (more than the honor roll moms know). You will have a little edge to you. You will get some thick skin and walk around with a little swagger. Whether it’s the honor roll or the principle’s office…time really does fly so find those enjoyable moments because they’re there.

End note - an infinite thank you to my husband who chose to parent my children and show me how a lost boy needs a good male role model.