Last year my daughter and I did the HSC. It was a joint effort – she studied for exams, while I ran a 24/7 version of technical support. I didn’t get involved in the curriculum – it’s been 30 years since I read Hamlet, and her maths books left me behind in Year 7. But I spent most of the year deluding myself that I could Make A Difference.
Special, nutrient-dense, high-quality food was cooked (every four hours). Car keys were on hand to take her to appointments: English tutoring, the chiropractor, yoga classes (that was just Mondays). I bought wildly expensive, brain-enhancing supplements and gave them out at specific times. And in between mixing up acai smoothies and grinding my own flaxseeds, I read and read. About stress management, mindfulness training, meditation, exercise. Let’s face it, if I she wasn’t three inches taller than me, I would have rocked her to sleep in my arms.
In the end my daughter did well, but did my extreme parenting experiment have much to do with it? I doubt it. She was motivated, had good teachers and worked hard; that’s all you really need. I managed to give myself some more grey hairs and put on 2 kilos, which is what happens when “exam stress” is managed with “red wine”. But this year is completely different, because I am having a Maternal Gap Year.
It’s a great concept, and one I can highly recommend. The best bit is reclaiming your life; first, you have to vacate the kitchen. I do the shopping and put it away but - this is the most important part – cooking is entirely optional.
The response to “what’s for breakfast?” or “what’s for lunch?” is now an index finger pointed at the fridge. “There’s plenty of food in there,” I say, my gaze fixed firmly on the newspaper. “Help yourself.”
