3:23 p.m. - 2004-10-27
Where is that instruction manual?
I am extricating my brain from a five hour supervisory seminar, though the people were very nice and the instructors were well-prepared, I just don't have that much capacity for regulations at the present time.
Got back to the office, did my media pitches for the conference tomorrow, had a report nitpicked and now I am getting things ready for going away for a two-day conference. I haven't been away from Andy in a while, and to top it off, spouse will be away the next night, so we'll be passing ships on 95 getting to various conferences - he'll be on his way to a connecticut ivy league university, and I'll be heading back to pick up Andy.
Yes, yes, yes - this is all so interesting.
I had to parenting and laundry yesterday. Last night when I got home, spouse had just brought Andy back from his karate class. Andy spends alot of time telling the karate instructor (a frank zappa-ish lookalike) about his various injuries. Andy can talk up a storm. I usually don't discourage this, but I am worried that Andy is so focused on his hurts rather than his accomplishments in gym and in karate. (Is hypochondria hereditary?) Anyway, I gently suggested to him that he might want to focus on the karate activities instead of telling the instructor about all his injuries, and that karate was about discipline and focus - discipline to get through any slight pain, and focus on what the instructor was asking for or telling the students to do. I had such an internal struggle because I want Andy to find the balance between being focused and obedient when he should be, and questioning authority and being involved in conversation when he should be. But how do we know that? I certainly don't know that all the time. How can he know it at seven?
He was upset and embarassed and came to sit with me and burst into tears. I told him that what he was doing wasn't bad, it was just that most people didn't want to hear about our hurts and injuries, but that he could always come and talk to his father and me. I have so many doubts after this conversation. Andy seemed okay after we cuddled for awhile, we had dinner an watched the great pumpkin, but he was up for a bandaid and a kiss on his foot because he scratched himself with his toenail.
Yi.
I'm not sure if I'll be able to update tomorrow. So I'll rely on my mantra. "Who the hell knows?"
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