There was a new rule this season in soccer, or at least new to me, about parents staying off the actual field during a game. We had to hand you water from the side lines at the end of each quarter, and give you whatever words of encouragement and advice we had from where we stood without crossing the painted line.
This has been a recurring theme lately. It's like life is trying to remind me that as much as I like to think I have absolute control over your lives and your happiness, so much of it is out of my hands and up to you. It's the absolute worst part of parenting.
I hate that there's nothing I can do when you're playing keeper in a play-off game, and the winning goal flies past your finger tips with 10 seconds left in the game. (Oh my, that was brutal.)
I despise the fact that I can't force every kid on the playground to realize they should want to play with you and invite you to their birthday party.
I could kick the idiotic first grade teacher who forces you to write standards 100 times and brings you to tears, because you forgot to write your name on your paper.
I hate it. It is painful- and I don't say this lightly- absolutely painful for me to watch you struggle through obstacles on your own. I have literally laid awake at night, thinking about the struggles you've even yet to face, like acne, your first broken heart, a failed driver's test, having your own kids one day....I'm a wreck sometimes!! But I want to be on that field for you so badly! I don't want to stand on the sidelines. I want to run on the field and protect you from all the tough stuff and the crappy people in the world. I even want to protect you from myself at times, and my grumpy moods and parenting fails. (This is why you go to time out. So I can get my sh*t together.) I want to protect you from everything and take on all the hard stuff for you so you don't have to get hurt- like ever. But you'd grow up to be a giant wimp, and nobody wants that. And more importantly, you wouldn't learn a thing. I know this.
I sat in a classroom yesterday knowing that all of the schools a few miles away were closed because of a terrorist threat. I tried to vaguely give you an explanation for a conversation you overheard. I told you that someone said they were going to hurt the kids at school, so the students stayed home to be safe. I quickly back tracked and added that they were only threatening the high schools so you wouldn't start worrying about your own safety. You said, "Yea, nobody would do anything bad to little kids." You were so convinced of this and I wanted to cry, because you're wrong. You're terribly wrong. But I'll never tell you that. Instead, I'll send you to school with a prayer in my heart that someone or something more powerful than me will protect you when I can't.
I want you to continue to live in a bubble for as long as possible, where the worst thing you have to deal with is losing a play off game or writing standards. I'm going to do what I can to protect you and make you happy when it IS in my control. I will make our stupid Elf on the Shelf do dumb pranks at night, so you're guaranteed a smile in the morning to start your day off right. I'll tell you a bunch that you're gorgeous, so when you run into that one butthead on the playground who tells you differently, hopefully my voice in the back of your head will drown him out. And I'll remind you, and myself, that you actually are strong and can handle hard things.
This parenting stuff is tough! I know I have to stay off your field from time to time, but I'm always here on the sidelines, screaming my head off for you to do your best against the opposition.
Love you to pieces,
Your neurotic, paranoid, mother.
