Bluesman

Saturday, May 18, 2013

So now that I’ve admitted that I’m a narcissist, I’d also like to admit that I’m probably not the greatest parent. The last thing I want is one of my kids reading this book in ten years and thinking, ‘That guy thought he was a good parent?’ I don’t know why my children would refer to me as ‘that guy,’ but I’m keeping expectations low. I’m probably not the best parent, but I’m trying. I’ll complain and joke about parenting and kids, but every parent knows it’s a heroic endeavor, and we participants need to laugh at it. After all, suicide is off the table now. (p. 47)

Even as your children get older, the parent-teacher conference is always a strange experience. The conference is supposed to be all about the child, but somehow it ends up with you feeling like you are getting a report card on your parenting. You still want to know your child is doing well and you still want to see their work, but because I am an actor and comedian, it seems that these conferences always lead back to my occupation. ‘Well your daughter/son is very dramatic and loves to talk, which I guess is no surprise, given your occupation.’ I’m not offended, but the implication that all improper behavior is the result of what I do for a living is rather absurd. As if a chatty five-year-old with a librarian mom would be a red flag. ‘We expected our child to just sit behind her desk and sush people. Maybe she needs Ritalin.’ (pp. 156-157)