This weekend, I spent a lot of time playing video games. It is a great escape for me, and I am grateful that my husband bought the game for me during Christmas break. I like the thrill of saving digital people, even though I know when I log off, they are not really still in danger. It can be addicting to play, to finish that next quest, to plan how that settlement can thrive without my intervention.
It would be wonderful if life were that simple. If only I could quit and save while my 1st period is typing about gratitude, knowing they are diligently working without my direct observation. But alas, real life is not a video game.
In the process of playing this weekend, I entertained the idea of playing Minecraft with my son, although playing with him is often a long tutorial about how to play. He watches YouTube videos about Minecraft, so even at 8 he knows more than I do about strategy.
I just read an article on NPR about parenting styles, and I’m a little concerned about our screen usage. Turns out I’m a permissive screen parent. Although this doesn’t totally surprise me, it was a bit of a downer. To top it off, my son complained that he struggles to fall asleep. Could his Minecraft till bedime obsession be part of the problem?
Luckily, I have a potential solution. He’s already busy on Mondays till 7 pm at Cub Scouts. If I can hold firm, we can go “offline” for an hour before bedtime with no problems. But it’ll be a challenge since I have quizzes to grade.
This post was supposed to be about gratitude but veered off into an anxious rant about parenting. Is this my life now?
“3 Things You Could Do To Kill the Time Until Fallout 4 Comes Out” by BagoGames is shared under a CC by 2.0 license.
Like so many others, throughout my week I wear many hats. Some moments, I’ve got my practical mommy bandana tied over my hair. I’m driving lunch money to my daughter, after I had chastised her for dragging her feet when she wanted me to dig it out of my purse before she got her shoes on to leave for school. Or when my son informs me, in the middle of the night, that he’s had an accident and now I have to change his sheets, again.
Other times, I have my teacher advocate baseball cap firmly fastened, brim tipped up so I won’t miss anything the Central OEA folks have to say about our illustrious governor. I’ve got my red pen in hand, just waiting to see what I need to do next.
Then there’s the moments I’ve got my bedazzled headband holding back my hair, as I smile fetchingly for my husband, who has always believed I can do whatever I set my mind to.
Let’s not forget the moments I have my wide brimmed gardener’s hat shading my face, as I pull the weeds in the jungle that is the traumatic life of some of my students.
Or when I have my fedora set rakishly atop my hair, and we read Supreme Court decisions for our Mock Trial team.
Maybe I’ve got my Geek Squad beret, riding to the rescue of the teacher who left her video at home and needs to stream Netflix in 1st period.
Or maybe I’m shining up my police hat, as I chastise playdough boy for disrupting not only his own learning, but that of an entire class.
Really, Fridays ought to be the moment when I can just take the hats off, and be myself.
Who is that, again?