I don’t fit in again.

I am standing in the middle of the book fair at my 8 year old’s school. He has seated himself on the floor and is engrossed in a book based on the TV series "Dexter’s Laboratory". I am looking over the books designated as "for the parents". There are a multitude of cookbooks, Chick Soups for the various souls, and a large, coffee-table book extolling the gloriousness of the Reagan years.

I groan audibly.

Zachary is a good student with an astounding vocabulary. When I asked him about something or other recently he responded "I have minimal knowledge in that area mom."

"Better brush up then, huh?" I responded jokingly. He solemnly nodded in agreement. Humor is not always his strong point.
He is, at times, like a grown-up in third grader clothes. But only in some ways.

Zachary is not terribly affiliative nor have I ever been. Hence I feel profoundly awkward at the book fair and he has lost himself in the first book he can grab. I should be teaching him more. I should be teaching him how to fit in and be part of the group. I want to teach him to feel comfortable in his own skin. And proud. Proud of the fact that when he doesn’t know something, he still sounds really smart admitting it anyway. It is hard for me to teach what I do not know myself though.

I am not working now and though that has only been true for a matter of months, it is the longest I have been without work since graduate school. I am now a non-working, working mother. I don’t quite fit in with either camp. When I see some of the other working moms they ask "so when are you going back to work?" The stay-at-home moms don’t quite get why I am around so much more lately and the members of the PTA just scare me.

So I am between worlds and in a way, that is how I have always felt. I have usually been fairly good at conforming but not necessarily fitting in. And Zachary seems to be very much like me in that way. Once I know what they are I can follow the rules and tow the line but my internal landscape consists of a lot of conflict and unforeseen valleys and hidden landmines. I think Zach’s does too though I only catch a glimpse of it during the rare times he lets his guard down. Otherwise Zachary maintains a good poker face. "Everything’s fine Mom" is his mantra.

Sam is different from Zach and me and seems to revel in not fitting in. In being different. It is who he is and he as yet to be bothered by the expectations of others. Sam came home recently with a photograph from school. In it he is in mid-dance and his classmates are seated and looking on. Sam is beaming in the photograph and proceeds to show it to everyone over and over again. "Sammy dancing" he says with an enormous grin. Zachary takes me aside and half whispers "I would be too embarrassed to dance like that."
"I know you would Zachary and that is too bad" I tell him. "You are a wonderful dancer."

And yet I am like Zachary. I would be too embarrassed to dance too.

If Zachary can’t do something expertly from the start it is difficult for him to persist and transcend his self-consciousness. To enter the unknown and unfamiliar. He is ashamed to evidence weakness. I think it frightens him to make mistakes. I know it frightens me. I explain to him that the flaws are what make the gem uniquely beautiful. Without them they would simply be ordinary. But Zach still strives for the validation inherent in what is perceived by others as perfection. Sam rejoices in the messiness of it all. He dwells in the process. In his experience of the extraordinary and the unknown. Zachary and I hold our breath until the conclusion. We are cautious and careful. We miss a lot.

Zachary finishes the "Dexter’s Laboratory" book and I ask him if he wants to buy it. "No" he says, "I already read it." We leave having bought a science encyclopedia to donate to his class.

"What’s next Zach?" I ask. "Want to run away and join the circus?" I ask him this though it something I could never do.

Zach laughs but quickly explains "Mom, I have a lot of homework tonight. It is Wednesday, remember?"

"I do remember Zach. But at least promise me you will consider it. Maybe some time in the future, you know."

"Yeah, right Mom. Sure I will."

Regina Walker is a psychotherapist in NYC. Her work has appeared in The Philosophical Mother, Hip Mama, Literary Vision, Mamaphiles 2, The Future Generation, Moondance, and Widdershins.