When I was a kid I wanted to be a surgeon. I thought the inner workings of the human body were fascinating and couldn’t get enough of those PBS shows that brought operating tables into my family room. When they would hint at graphic images ahead and everyone else would turn away, I would glue myself to the screen.

Turns out, though, that you actually have to be a pretty good student if you choose that line of work. My elementary school report cards, which were all spotted with remarks like, “shares with her neighbors” and “doesn’t stay on task”, weren’t going to get me into medical school. It seems I was more suited to be a gossip columnist.

But as a parent, I have a chance to right what I did wrong. I have made it clear to my third-grade daughter that she needs to apply herself now, if she wants to be successful later.

We were recently discussing this and I asked her, “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

She shrugged.

Given her love of animals and her near obsession with dogs, I suggested she should become a veterinarian.

She shook her head and said, “I don’t want to be a veterinarian! They can’t eat meat!“

Apparently, someone wasn’t staying on task during health and nutrition class.

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There are many days when I look at my kids and find myself jealous of them.

They have an almost complete lack of responsibility. Outside of my nine year old daughter’s homework and some very minimal chores at home, these children don’t have much on their daily list of things to accomplish.

They have energy I can only dream about. Oh wait, I don’t sleep. That’s another thing. They snooze right through the night. Every night.

They skip, climb trees, and swing. Life is fun.

The other day my Mom was visiting, and she asked how much my daughter weighs. I replied, “Sixty-one pounds.”

And I added “Not Ashamed of Their Weight” to my list of jealousies, when my daughter piped in, “Don’t forget the point four!”

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Week before last we had an out of town guest. Roughly five days before his arrival, I told my nine year old daughter I would need her help getting the house ready. I made plans to wash the windows, scrub floors, and do a lot of general spring cleaning. Plus, she would be bunking with her brother while our guest slept in her bed, so I wanted her to straighten up her bedroom.

By the end of the five days, I had done all of the cleaning…even her room. I gave up and told her the only thing left to do was to put a few things away. By the time our guest arrived, she hadn’t helped with that either.

So, I had to shake my head in disbelief when last week she asked if she could go to school early every, single day to, “help her teacher clean”.

I want to know what they are putting in that classroom dust.

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Yesterday, my son fell off his bike and hit his head on our driveway. I heard him scream, ran outside and scooped him up, then tried to make the pain go away by distracting him. He has never been one to accept that a kiss or hug will make his boo-boo’s go away. He instead wants something to take his mind off it.

We sat down on a swing in our backyard and I showed him the budding leaves on the tree, then I pointed at the blue sky and said, “I love spring. The sunshine makes me so happy.” Then I asked him, “What makes you happy?”

My guess is that he thought he’d get an extra cookie after dinner when he replied, “Your smile, Mom.”

Then he shot butterflies and rainbows out of his fingertips. Okay, not really…but the comment about my smile…totally true.

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