Sometimes I think I am incredibly foolish. Since Sunday afternoon I haven't been able to relax. I haven't slept properly. I've been vague and absent minded, only concentrating on the job at hand when I absolutely had to.
I wish I wasn't a worrier by nature. My life and the lives of those around me would be so much easier if I didn't.
On Sunday afternoon I got an email from my son's teacher asking to meet to discuss some of his test results. Now firstly, I am hugely impressed with this teacher. And I am delighted that whatever it is that we need to discuss, is taking place this afternoon. But all I've got on replay in my head, over and over again is: "What did I miss?"
Really, what did I miss?
Yesterday as we did hellwork homework I watched him. He was deep in thought. His tongue stuck out a little in profound concentration, as he tried his hardest to sound out the words he was unfamiliar with. And all the while I was thinking: "This should be easier for him. It should NOT be this hard."
It isn't for his sister.
Over the years I've taught hundreds possibly over a thousand students. And on an intellectual level I know that this is normal. I've taught students of varying abilities, differing needs and temperaments. I've loved working with them. I still love it.
But parenting and teaching is (for me at least) just so hard sometimes.
In teaching I knew how I was doing based on pupil feedback, their behaviour in class and exam results.
In parenting I often have no clue as to how I'm doing and when I get emails like this I wonder if somewhere along the line I missed something important. Didn't I read him enough stories at bedtime? Did I not work hard enough on phonics last year?
There is a delicious irony in that Literacy is something I'm a specialist in. Not that special apparently.
My husband has listened patiently to my endless questions for the past 48 hours or so. He has responded calmly and lovingly that we are doing a great job. He has said the same thing in response to my text messages and emails that I've also sent him about it.
I believe him. Sort of.
I know our boy is wonderful. I know he's happy. He knows we'd walk through fire for him, or its closest equivalent. And that was definitely yesterday when I drove to EIGHT different stores trying to find him some Pokemon cards that he wanted to buy with his tooth fairy money.
He doesn't know about the knot in my stomach.
He knows we love him and that's enough.
And as I count down the hours and minutes to the meeting with his teacher this afternoon I have to believe it too.
Loving and knowing he is loved is enough.