Free Chasing Superwoman by Susan DiMickele

3:5–6
    When you’re busy pretending to be Superwoman you don’t have time to read instruction manuals. Like the manual that explains the complicated demands that most schools place on parents. Actually, I’m not sure such a manual exists. Most working mothers feel like we’re already behind the eight ball. Many of us are not able to pick up our kids from school, so we don’t get the take-home folder until the papers have mysteriously disappeared into the far corners of our homes, and we frequently mix up dates, forget assignments, and miss last-minute changes—like the notes that say “please send your child a packed lunch tomorrow for the field trip” or “every child should wear pajamas on Friday for the party.” I’m always worried that my children are going to suffer because of my lack of involvement. I want to “trust in the Lord with all my heart” and put my children’s school experiences in God’s hands, but it’s always a struggle.
    It all started in preschool. Preschool mothers have a way of making simple things complicated. At the end of Anna’s first year of preschool, a letter went out to all of the parents expressing concern over preschool snacks. Just about every preschool snack is taboo these days. A vocal group of parents were concerned that the kids were eating junk every day, so they put a task force together to “study” the issue. All parents were asked to complete a survey with three options: (1) Let the kids continue to eat junk; (2) Pay more tuition to the school and have the school provide a healthy snack; or (3) Have a parent committee organize parent-driven healthy snacks. You guessed it, I voted for option 2. The last thing I need is another school-related responsibility.
    The votes had been cast, and option 3 was the clear winner. So the next fall, a memo went home to all the parents with elaborate instructions on snacks. No nuts, no trans fats, no carbs without protein, only good protein, a fruit or vegetable every day, not too much sugar, and not too much mess. Snacks were to be individually wrapped, fruit was to be washed, and teachers were to always wear gloves in the classroom when serving snacks. Just reading the memo made me exhausted. I opened our refrigerator and quickly realized I would have much work ahead.
    When it’s Anna’s turn for snacks I usually don’t remember until the night before, after the kids have gone to bed. Doug usually sees “preschool snack” on the calendar, and we both panic. I look feverishly for the preschool snack calendar and can never find it. I think I may have thrown away that memo with the instructions. So I immediately send Doug to the grocery store to pick up some boxed raisins and cheese. Who can argue with raisins and cheese? It’s certainly an improvement over goldfish crackers, my standard snack the year before. Actually, the year before I usually forgot snack when it was Anna’s turn. In a fit of guilt, I would buy eight bags of goldfish and take them to preschool the next day as a “backup snack.” When it’s Anna’s turn to bring snacks, she also gets to be line leader. It’s tough to be line leader when you don’t have any food to feed your friends.
    Kindergarten
    When Nick entered kindergarten I embarked on a new journey that only a mother of grade-school children can understand. I was completely unprepared. There’s no instruction manual for parents of kindergarteners, and even if there was, I wouldn’t have time to read it. I hate instruction manuals anyway. I’m the kind of person who skips the first page of directions and goes straight to the last step. I can usually figure it out myself.
    Besides, I had already been through preschool. You would have thought that two years of preschool would have prepared me. Not so. Kindergarten is much more intense. One difference, at least in our school, is that the