You’ve all read that book, right?
The one that every graduate gets and every grandparent buys?
The classic Dr. Seuss’ Oh the Places You’ll Go?
Well, its been a while since my last post. This isn’t because stuff hasn’t happened, or we haven’t done things or gone places. It isn’t because I’ve sat in my house and watched TV and nothing else, because I have been busy with the kids, practices, bills, the UGA tuition decisions, Lucy and Emma leaving for Montreal. But I am in (or at least I feel like I am in) the dreaded Waiting Place. You know that place, waiting for the train to come or the plane to go?
Metaphorically, of course.
We are in the waiting place. Abby has a “last chance” meet this weekend. It is (literally) her last chance to make a state cut for the Age Group State meet that begins on Wednesday next week. She is very close in three events, and honestly, I have no idea what will happen. I think she has what it takes to drop those last four seconds, but the question is … does she think she has what it takes? I anticipate a very emotional weekend, either very high or very low. The atmosphere is almost physical with anxiety. Mine, all mine I need to point out because I so very much want this for her, I honestly have no idea where her head is with all this. Since my “hands off” policy began, I don’t discuss things with her unless she brings them up to me. But that doesn’t mean I don’t churn inside for her. She has been through so much craziness the last year with her shoulder, her doubts and her fears, her roller coaster emotions, I want her to see in herself what we all see in her. I want her to experience the success for her own personal affirmation.
On the other hand, little sister Mollie will be swimming seven events next week. This presents a very awkward situation at times and adds fuel to the proverbial Age Group State fire. I think it is also the constant and unrelenting ocean wave that eats away at Abby’s beach of self-esteem. I am very proud of Mollie’s hard work, but it is hard to praise one without the other taking it as a blow.
It is so complicated.
Tonight, I am hosting the Championship dinner. The kids are all coming to my house, bringing various dishes of pasta to share. They will laugh and eat, strategize and fuel up before the meet tomorrow. I am looking forward to it, but only because it means that tomorrow will finally be here and the slow ascend up what is sure to be a crazy roller coaster of 10 days will commence.
I know the twists and turns, the headaches and the exhilarations will happen as my heart rate alternately pounds and slows, but we will – at last – be out of the waiting place.