I've become one of THOSE mothers

It was only a matter of time. I've denied it, tried to act all nonchalant. Like, "Oh, I don't care if Zsa Zsa is giving her all to her school work. I mean, I just want her to be happy." Or, "I don't care if Pes gets into a top college someday. I'm just going to let him figure out his own way of doing things and if it happens, so be it." I think this is a reaction to my upbringing, in which I, every so often (i.e., every day), received lectures like the following from Mother:

"I was an immigrant. I didn't speak a word of English when I arrived in Canada at age 9. Within 3 months, I spoke fluent English, was valedictorian of the fifth grade and captain of the field hockey team. If I got a 99 on a test, I marched straight to the teacher and asked where that extra point was and if I could do extra credit to earn it. Plus, within a few years, I was competing for Miss Large Western Canadian City and came in second. This runner-up status is due to the fact that I was only 5 foot 2. And then I went to medical school. After only 3 years of college. And this was in 1960 when there was no such thing as feminism. . ."

By this point, even though I had heard this a few times before (right, Sister?), I was already internalizing what steps I could take that minute, hour, day and week to achieve perfect scores on EVERYTHING. And be captain of the field hockey team. And the lead in the play. And get awesome SAT scores, blah blah blah.

And though I did amazingly in high school, went to a stellar college, did a master's program in one year flat, and am obviously HUGELY successful, what with my mastery of carpool and Yom Tov menus, my expertise in smothering my children, and my awesome blog (duh), I vowed I would take a different approach with my children. So far, I have managed to delude myself into thinking I have done just that.

Perfect Eldest Son (Pes) has, of course, exceeded my expectations of what a child should do and be academically and intellectually. He has always been recognized at school as a talmid chacham, so I never had to push him to succeed, he just did it himself.

Zsa Zsa, though I did not have high expectations for her, has pleasantly surprised me with her above-average academics and her talents in verbal expression and emotional intelligence. Before you berate me for my low expections comment, let me explain: It happened one day when we were visiting her grandparents in Florida.

She was right around two and mesmerized by the mirrored wall found in all second homes in Florida to create the illusion of space. She stared at it and started walking toward it, pointing, and saying the name of her best friend over and over and then. . .smack. Straight into the mirror. She looked so bewildered and hurt that her best friend smacked into her so hard. And it reminded me of a bird flying right into a window and, well, I wasn't so sure about what was going on in there. Thankfully, things developed well because she is a good little student and an overall wonderful girl.

So up the ranks Eva rose, and she finished kindergarten in June with stellar reports from both teachers. Report cards like I'd never seen for the other two. My hopes were high as a kite and, since I decided to be Tiger Mom over the summer and make the older kids do work, I bought Eva the First Grade Brain Quest book and she proceeded to do the entire book over the summer.

Imagine my surprise, then, when I found out that some girls in her class were already getting math enrichment and Eva was in a lower math group (at least that's what I gathered from her first grade perspective). I was bewildered, since I saw her complete a fairly challenging curriculum over the summer very capably. I decided it was time to make the dreaded phone call. The one that made me one of THOSE MOTHERS.

You may be asking, what happened to, "Just let them be happy. Let the teachers figure out what groups they belong in. Don't try to engineer everything so much. If she's happy, leave her alone."? Obviously, this was all wishful thinking on my part, that I could separate my internal drive from my (s)mothering. For if Eva's not in the top math group, it means I am not in the top math group. And that JUST WILL NOT DO.

Just tonight, Eva's mega-word search with the names of all the girls in her class cleverly hidden in all directions was befuddling everyone in the house. Guess who said,as she snatched the thing out of Eva's hands, "Wait, give it to me. I'm so good at these. Time me, I'm sure I can do it in under ten minutes." And guess who did it in just under 13 minutes? (It was seriously hard, yo).

Meanwhile, I had THE CONVERSATION with Ms. BestfirstgradeteachereverintheworldIloveyou. She was very receptive and promised to reassess Eva given the information I provided and would let me know. So here I wait.

And since Gorby isn't in kindergarten until next year, I feel that I can wait at least another year before forcing him to do extra work and asking what math group he's in. However, his brother, sweet Pes, had something to share with me tonight that gave me some food for thought. Pes started going on about how he wanted to live close to his siblings when he grows up and make sure all the cousins are have close relationships. I smiled and said, "Oh sweetie, that is such a nice thought." Then he said, "Unless, of course, Gorby ends up in jail. Which is very likely. In that case, I'll take care of his kids. Fair?"

Maybe this math group thing isn't the worst thing in the world. Maybe tomorrow I should look into some sort of "Anger Management for Your Preschooler" class. Then I'll buy him Hooked On Phonics. It is a little alarming that Gorby barely knows his letters and he is almost 5. Darn it, there I go again.