Those who have known me a while know that I used to laugh my ass off at the crazy shit mothers did and said to each other, all in the name of being “good parents”.  I always called it “competitive mothering”, and this past week, I ended up feeling like one of those women I make fun of.

I explained to Mike that with kindergarten looming in Lily’s future (well, her 12-months-from-now future), I feel like I did during her first year of life.  Uncoordinated, uneducated, a little bit fearful, apprehensive, and paranoid to make a mistake.  I’d almost forgotten how HARD it was to feel that way.  With Arden, even if I hadn’t know what I was doing, I was too tired to be aware of my incompetence. 

Lily is entering a pre-K class on September 4, and I went to the orientation blissfully ignorant and happy that they were giving her structure and working on the basic skills that will enable her to learn to read in kindergarten.  I didn’t really pick it apart or worry too much about it - I think I was more focused on how I was going to help her decorate her first big-girl locker.  Then I spent some time on the phone with Emma’s mom (also in Lily’s class).  She’s got an older daughter in college, is very smart, and highly up-to-date on education.  She was having a fit of worrying about the curriculum in the pre-K classroom.  (The fact that she referred to it as “curriculum” should have clued me in that I wasn’t really with the program).  She met with the director of the school, researched Montessori programs, and reported back to me on her conversations with the school.  It turns out the that “curriculum” is actually going to be just fine, and thank god I have smarter, more with it parents to explain it all to me.  One thing that was made clear:  Lily’s school’s primary function is not to teach her to read this year - they are leaving that for kindergarten.

I thought everything was fine, until the following day when I picked up a “Reading Express” flyer or something like that from her folder at school.  One of Mike’s pet peeves about where Lily goes is that he feels he is nickel-and-dimed to death.  Everything is extra - and it’s fabulous that they offer things like Computer Bus, Gym Bus, Ballet, and now Reading Distress Express.  However, each of these little activities runs in the hundreds of dollars per quarter, and I am constantly fielding questions like “Why can’t I take ballet like Kate?” or, “Why can I not go on Computer Bus like I used to?”  Well, honey, it’s because Mommy’s business isn’t really paying her these days and Mommy can’t afford to sign you up, sweet cakes!!!  I checked over the flyer and it’s all about a class, $200 per quarter, 8 sessions per quarter, giving your child the “necessary foundation” for reading success.  So I took this to mean that if we didn’t fork over the money, Lily would be foundationless.  It sent me into a tailspin, especially when another phone conversation with Emma’s mom yielded the fact that Emma would definitely be taking all four quarters of the Reading Rainbow stuff.

Mike’s take on this?  “I don’t remember my parents signing me up for reading enrichment programs before I ever entered school, and frankly, I think this is a little over the top.”  I tend to agree with him, and then I start to freak - but what if we don’t, and Lily’s behind everyone else?  What if she spends her life in therapy determining that the reason she is a failure in life is due to missing Reading Spasms class???  I mean, I am poking fun at this - and tempering my fear with sarcastic posturing - but what pisses me off is that I feel like a pawn in the game to get parents to cough up money by using fear marketing techniques.  Perhaps we should employ that method in our online stores.  It would be something like this:

“Visit us at http://www.napmatsandmore.com to ensure your child’s educational future.  Did you know that without a high-quality, allergen-free nap mat, your child could be seriously brain-damaged during nap time?  Sure, you can skip the nap mat, but studies have shown that kids without a NapMatsAndMore.com mat will score 40% lower on standardized testings and also have a tendency to drool and sleepwalk.  So why take the risk?”

That’s how I feel a lot of the time.  Am I messing with Lily’s future as a computer programmer if I skip the $250 quarterly Computer Bus?  Will she end up an illiterate street bum because we passed on Reading Rugrats?  I don’t know - but I’m trying to go with my gut and not let what all the other parents are doing affect our decisions.  Damn, it’s hard.  It’s like peer pressure in reverse.  The school says, “We don’t teach them to read because that’s a skill they learn in kindergarten, but hey, while we have your attention, here’s a flyer on a reading program we offer during school time to teach them to read. No pressure!”  It just seems like a major mixed message.

My head hurts.  I’m going to bed.