Last night after dinner I was in the kitchen washing dishes like I do every f-ing night, and my 5th grader was sitting at the kitchen table doing his math home work.
A gusty sigh reached my ears and I asked him if he needed help.
“Yes, but you won’t get it.”
Ummmm, excuse me?? Been there done that with 5th grade math buddy. I think I can handle it. (yeah right)
So I tell him give me a sec and I’ll give it a look-see.
A minute later I walk over to give it a little look and a little see and what do you know? Fuck My Life I couldn’t help him.
Math was never my strong point in school and still isn’t. I’m a house wife. I know functioning math. I can budget and balance like a boss. When I go to baking, my measurement skills are on point. Throw an algebraic equation at me and combine it with dividing decimals and I’ll tell you to go to hell.
Fast forward to this morning: “Mom, can you get my math sheet for me?” Apparently he slept on it and knew where he had been going wrong, because in 60 seconds, he had it figured out then proceeded to explain it to me.
Which led to today’s epiphany: I would have grown up to be a mother f-ing math genius if my teachers had been super smart 5th graders.
So I guess there’s kind of a moral to my story.
Maybe if more of us slept on our problems as opposed to throwing in the towel, we’d approach everything life gives us with a clear head, open mind and a calm manner.
I think I need to thank my ten year old for that reminder.