Four kids. Three grown(ish). Through it all, I’ve prided myself on not becoming “that” parent. The parent that makes excuses for their kids. The parent that takes their kid’s successes and failures too seriously. You know – the “high-road” parent? This weekend, at least in my head, I became “that” parent.
Andy’s rowing team went to Regionals. I did not even anticipate Andy going to regionals this year so had not planned to attend. However, when the coaches put him in a pair (2 man boat) he was excited and their times were good. I booked a room and headed to Lake Lanier, GA. First day was time trials and they took third. I was so nervous and excited for Sunday’s finals.
Never mind that our team mainly rows 8-man boats year-round. The boys had a week and a half to practice in a two. They finished fourth. Fourth in the entire Southeast. A normal parent would have been thrilled, even if she knew the boys in the boat would be disappointed. Me? Nope. I finally snapped. I’ve never been so sad at the result of anything any of my boys have done. Part of my brain knew I was crazy but, the other part was insanely disappointed, sad and kind of angry.
I’d like to take a moment to thank the sane part of my brain for taking charge. I really only lost it internally and only for a few minutes. But, as the Talking Heads famously asked, “Well, how did I get here?”
I think if you have a kid that starts out strong and does exceedingly well in a sport it’s hard when they change categories – Andy went from lightweight to the big time this year. But, the thing is, that’s HIS fight. Not mine. My fight is to feed him, make sure school’s a priority and to nag him about brushing his teeth. His accomplishments (or lack thereof) are not about me. I know this. I’ve always known this. Funny how I forgot so late in this “race” called parenthood.
I’m back to sane again thanks to a long drive home fueled by caramel M&Ms and a great audio edition of Anna Karenina. Funny how a “hard” book forces you to focus and move on.
No point to this. Just sharing. No matter how sane you are and no matter how long you stay sane, you’re always vulnerable. Take it from me, you don’t want to be “that” parent. I’m just grateful that my experience happened entirely inside my head. 😉