Perfect Attendance is for Losers

Ah, 1983. What a great year in the grand scheme of my life. Ronald Reagan was president, Sally Ride (rock on, sista) was the first woman astronaut, and Ghandi won the Academy Award for Best Picture.

Right. Of course, without the help of Google, I wouldn't have remembered any of that crap. I mean gimme a break; I was 8-years-old for cryin' out loud. I was much too busy fighting with my siblings over who Mom and Dad loved more, who got to sit where in our awesome red and white striped van, and which of our three (sometimes four depending on the weather ) TV stations to watch. So unless current events and 80's movie trivia somehow got subliminally mixed into a random ABC Afterschool Special or our 8 track of Bing Crosby's White Christmas, chances are I didn't know about it.

All I cared about was who I sat next to on the 45-minute bus ride to school, who I played Chinese jump rope with at recess, and who I would be moved next to in Mrs. Dixon's 3rd grade classroom because I couldn't keep my gigantic mouth shut for .5 seconds. In addition to all of these childly duties, I also had to keep my kick ass pair of brown KangaROOS clean and stain free. It was a hard life after all. But I somehow managed.

And then my best friend, Julie, had a fantastic idea. WE'LL JOIN GIRL SCOUTS! Yes! It all made sense. It would get me out of riding the bus home one afternoon every single week. It would have been a phenomenal plan if we would have done something besides hold hands, sing songs, and stroll over bridges...sometimes all at the same time. I mean really. Even in 1983 I had better things to do.

So, here I find myself in 2010 in not too different of a situation. Fabulous. Here we go again.

I don't claim to be the world's best parent. I didn't join the PTA, I don't volunteer at the school (except for the fun stuff), and I almost never do speech therapy homework. I'm not perfect by any stretch, and I'm really just figuring it out as I go. The mere fact that my children are as level headed as they are is nothing short of a God given miracle. But there is one thing that I have learned in my almost ten years of motherhood. Perfect attendance is for losers.

That's right...L.O.S.E.R.S. Losers.

Why in the world I would care that my 9-year-old has perfect attendance in **insert secret, undisclosed after school activity here** is absolutely outside my realm of thinking. Really? REALLY? I can see his high school graduation now..."And is there any graduate out there who never missed a **insert secret, undisclosed activity here ** meeting in the school year 2009-2010? If so, please stand up so we can recognize you." Right. Not gonna happen.

Here's another thing I know. NOBODY CARES. Nobody. It won't matter to anyone in 50 years. Hell, I'll probably be dead by that point, and if Levi still faults me for not taking him to his **insert secret, undisclosed activity here** every single time the doors were open then so be it.

So, do we show up 90% of the time? Yes. Do I pay attention and keep my mouth shut during the meetings? Of course not. Do I actually remember to take the manual and flip to every page during the meeting to see how we're making progress towards our next accomplishment? Nope, not even close.

Here's the cold, hard truth. I've never even opened the book. That's right all you organized and punctual **insert secret, undisclosed activity** moms. That book has never been opened by me. I have NO earthly idea what it takes to earn any of the accomplishments or even what exists to even attempt to earn. And here's something else. I don't really even care.

But what I do have is a fun-loving 4th grader who's not afraid to make mistakes and speak up in a crowd. He's hard-working, friendly, and loves to make up his own jokes and share them with anyone and everyone who will listen (and even those that won't). And that, my **insert secret, undisclosed activity here** crazed friends, is worth more to me than some ridiculous perfect attendance pin any day of the week. So there. Take that.

**Insert secret, undisclosed activity here** are prepared not their mothers. Instead, I choose to teach independence, responsibility, and the ability to work without being under constant supervision. Good for me. I am a good mother...(repeating under my breath)...I am a good mother...I am a good mother.

So, raise your right hand, extend your three fingers, and repeat after me..."On my honor, I will try to serve God (which I absolutely do), my country (I vote...does that count?) and mankind (hello, I write a blog) and to live by the Girl Scout Law (well, okay, I don't exactly live by the Girl Scout law, but three out of four ain't half bad.)

Bring it, moms. You ain't got nothin' on me.