The trials and tribulations of Princess Sleepyhead

Poor old Princess Sleepyhead -- she feels the world is against her. And in truth, I'm left feeling the betrayer, the one who has done what she always said she wouldn't.

Wind back the clock twenty years (or thereabouts). I am studying at RMIT, doing my science degree, and my friend Rose tells me how she wanted to become an exchange student, and her parents said yes. But then she was accepted into the program, and her parents said no, and that they'd only agreed to let her go because they thought she wouldn't be accepted. And when she told me how devastated she was, I sympathised and said I'd wanted to be an exchange student too, but my parents hadn't let me apply. I had never seen how this could be a plus until I considered how upsetting her parents' refusal must have been. I vowed I would never do that to my children. And I can't think that I have. Until now. Now I have become Rose's parents: I have done the terrible turnaround.

My turnaround centres on her school's fundraising bike-ride from Adelaide to Melbourne. It's a team relay, with girls riding legs of a certain length, depending on their fitness level. Originally, PS asked me about this last year, and because she's already going to Vietnam at the end of this year, and missing a substantial amount of school, we said no. If she were up with her school work and endeavoured to catch up on missed classes, things would be different, but we have to plot around the realities of her life -- the life she has made for herself.

So, the girls all started their training over the holidays, but not PS because she wasn't going. All's good so far. But then she nagged and nagged, and we said no. But then she dragged me into the school to talk to the PE teacher, who I suspect could sell ice to an eskimo. He was very persuasive -- almost had me wanting to go, and considering how I hate cycling...

I outlined my concerns: her being behind at school and missing two more weeks, her refusal to catch up on missed classes, her bad back, and he talked about how they could help her with school work while she was away, and how sometimes experiences like this instill kids with new confidence that affects the way they face the challenges in life, and how this could be the most fantastic experience and was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I imagined two weeks without the siblings trying to scratch each other's eyes out: peace!

The Gadget Man had said that I should go to the meeting with the teacher, and that he would support whatever I decided: the final decision was mine. And so I listened to the PE teacher and relented. (Note to parents: be consistent in what you say. We've all heard it a thousand times, and know there are good reasons for it, but sometimes that relenting is just so seductive. Don't go there.)

So I went home and told the Gadget Man that she was going, and he looked at me aghast and asked what I had done.

I said, "You said the final decision was mine."

He said, "Yes, but you were supposed to say no."

There's a lesson there on communication, but I don't think many husbands read this blog so I'm not going there today.

So, PS was happy. The following Wednesday (two days hence) was training after school. I dropped in to pick up her bag.

"I feel sick," she said. "I don't think I should go."

"I think you'd better," I said. "They'll think you don't want to go."

"But I might throw up," she said. So I spoke to the teacher, and he said she should go but could sit out if she felt she had to. She went. She rode. She fell off. Twice. But she did ride, at least.

Then they had Beep (fitness) tests at school. She missed the first one because she decided she had to go to the toilet in the middle of it. I told her she should have held on and completed it. Then she had a vocal ensemble meeting -- the first -- and as we'd just signed her up for singing lessons, conditional to her joining the vocal ensemble, I said she should go. I also suggested she see the PE teacher first, in case that was going to be problematic. Instead, she sent a message with a friend, and needless to say the message didn't get passed along, though none of us knew this for a while.

So, a few days later, they had a meeting after school. PS didn't go because she had piano lessons, but her dad went and one of the other teachers collared him, saying she had concerns about PS going. Her concerns were: PS's back (not just for the riding but for the sleeping on the ground), that she's always late for school (true) and as they have 7 am starts were worried about her not being ready in time (and she didn't know the half of it -- this kid takes two minutes (really) to put on two socks), also that she's not a team player (she hadn't turned up to meetings like that one (PS said she had attended others) or to her Beep tests, that she didn't seem too keen as evidenced by her not wanting to attend the training. The Gadget Man said we'd discuss it at home.

We decided, in the end, that it wasn't fair to let her take someone else's spot when she did seem half-arsed about it. She was devastated, but as my brother said, when I phoned him, she was saying one thing but all her actions were saying something else. For example, I asked her to give me a commitment to say she would endeavour to catch up on her missed work, and she refused to do that. So I rang the other PE teacher, and I think he was quite relieved, even though he'd been the one who had talked me into it in the first place. He said, "Look, if it goes well, it could be a terrific experience for her, but if it goes badly it could be terrible for her." And I did say in her defence that she wasn't a quitter. She would give 100%, and she would. I've seen her run cross-countries and, exhausted, slogging the way home, never pausing, just running like a knackered old workhorse fit only for the knackers! She passed many a girl who'd given up or who'd dropped to a walk. Not her. She just kept going. But this time there was going to be no going on.

So, here I am, feeling like my friend's mother and wishing I'd never said yes in the first place. Or that I'd never turned around and said no. I'm not sure which. Oh, well, no-one said bringing up kids was easy!