Brandon went to San Miguel de Allende, Mexico yesterday for a business trip. He'll be back Sunday afternoon. When he first mentioned the trip, more than a month ago, I figured I'd be fine and I didn't ask my mom to come help like I usually do when B is gone for more than a night or two. She came when B went on his canoe trip this Spring and was a tremendous help. My confidence in being able to handle three kids on my own for five days and four nights began to evaporate the closer we got to B's departure.
The times I have the most problems are the morning when I'm trying to get everyone out the door and bedtime when I'm trying to get Campbell in bed and make the girls brush their teeth and get on night clothes. But we've survived two nights without too many problems. Campbell, bless his little heart, has cooperated and gone to bed without any fuss. And the girls have been so tired from playdates, preschool and swim lessons that they don't have much energy left to fight me.
This morning was bad, though. Even with Heidi's help in carpooling, I was overwhelmed trying to get everyone out the door. B isn't much of a help in the mornings when he's here. He, like my mother, is useless in the morning before he's had any coffee. But just knowing that he's here as back-up is a help. Plus, he can at least get kids buckled in the car while half asleep.
Tomorrow morning should be ok. We're not going anywhere. The girls don't have swim lessons on Fridays, and I'm keeping Lily home from school because her buddy Ava is coming to play. I'm looking forward to not having to wrestle everyone into the car.
The other thing that is keeping me sane is the knowledge that I have a babysitter coming tomorrow afternoon for a few hours. I have a work-related conference call that I'm going to take while camped out at the Roes' house. Then I'm going for a pedicure and some retail therapy. I just got my Danskin paycheck, and I'm going to spend a little bit of it on me.
Brandon gets home Sunday afternoon, and I think I'm going to hand him all three kids as soon as he walks in the door and say, "Happy Father's Day!" I figure the best gift I can give him is a few hours alone with his kids!
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
The list
I'm still struggling with Ella's behavior and how to handle it. Things got really bad Saturday - she threw a shoe at me because I told her to clear her plate and then dumped a towel on my head when I asked her to help me fold laundry. She ended up in her room, in her bed, banned from going to a birthday party. She was yelling about how much she didn't love me when Campbell, Lily and I headed out to the party.
In desperation, I took a page out of Liz's book and started doing research online. I went to Dr. Rosemond's site, and he had a plan that Brandon and I both can get behind. We came up with a list of five behaviors that just are not allowed in the house. The list is posted on the refrigerator, along with 8 "tickets." When Ella does one of the things on the list, there's no warning, no empty threats, no "If you do that again," I just go take one of the tickets away and put her in time out for six minutes. If she gets all 8 tickets taken away, she goes to her room for the rest of the day and then goes to bed right after dinner.
Brandon and I talked about the plan with her, and explained every item on the list, and she seemed to buy in to the scheme. Monday she did great; I didn't have to take any tickets. Yesterday, however, I took four in the space of about 60 seconds and sent her to time out before she could lose any more. It was actually kind of funny how it happened - I told her she couldn't do something, so she stomped her feet. I took a ticket. She made a nasty face at me. I took a ticket. She began to tell me just how much she didn't like me. I took a ticket. She said no when I sent her to time out. I took a ticket.
The nice part about the plan is that the next day, the slate is wiped clean and she gets all the tickets back. I also really like having a plan. I don't have to worry about what I'm going to do when she mouths off or stomps her feet. She and I both know the list and we both know the consequences. I ended up not getting frustrated or flying off the handle in the midst of her tantrum, which helped us both. I didn't get wound up, so she didn't get more wound up.
In the midst of the chaos on Saturday, I e-mailed a friend who has a daughter a little bit older than Ella for advice. She reminded me about the big picture - Ella will grow up to be a kind, helpful person and she'll go off to college some day. I needed to hear that. She also suggested having Ella stomp her feet for five minutes straight the next time she does it as part of a temper tantrum. Brandon and I both like that idea.
In desperation, I took a page out of Liz's book and started doing research online. I went to Dr. Rosemond's site, and he had a plan that Brandon and I both can get behind. We came up with a list of five behaviors that just are not allowed in the house. The list is posted on the refrigerator, along with 8 "tickets." When Ella does one of the things on the list, there's no warning, no empty threats, no "If you do that again," I just go take one of the tickets away and put her in time out for six minutes. If she gets all 8 tickets taken away, she goes to her room for the rest of the day and then goes to bed right after dinner.
Brandon and I talked about the plan with her, and explained every item on the list, and she seemed to buy in to the scheme. Monday she did great; I didn't have to take any tickets. Yesterday, however, I took four in the space of about 60 seconds and sent her to time out before she could lose any more. It was actually kind of funny how it happened - I told her she couldn't do something, so she stomped her feet. I took a ticket. She made a nasty face at me. I took a ticket. She began to tell me just how much she didn't like me. I took a ticket. She said no when I sent her to time out. I took a ticket.
The nice part about the plan is that the next day, the slate is wiped clean and she gets all the tickets back. I also really like having a plan. I don't have to worry about what I'm going to do when she mouths off or stomps her feet. She and I both know the list and we both know the consequences. I ended up not getting frustrated or flying off the handle in the midst of her tantrum, which helped us both. I didn't get wound up, so she didn't get more wound up.
In the midst of the chaos on Saturday, I e-mailed a friend who has a daughter a little bit older than Ella for advice. She reminded me about the big picture - Ella will grow up to be a kind, helpful person and she'll go off to college some day. I needed to hear that. She also suggested having Ella stomp her feet for five minutes straight the next time she does it as part of a temper tantrum. Brandon and I both like that idea.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Children, children everywhere
Today definitely proved the axiom that it takes a village. I had children scattered all over town this morning just so I could be parent helper in Lily's class for the first time all year.
The plan was supposed to be simple - I'd take Lily and Ella to school with me, and Ella would go to her friend Lisa's house from school and I'd pick her up afterwards. The sitter was supposed to arrive in time for Brandon to leave for a meeting, and she would stay with Campbell until I got home.
Things fell apart completely. When I told Heidi that Ella wouldn't be at swim lessons, Matilda got really upset. So Heidi offered to take Ella to lessons and then deliver her to Carol's house. Fine. Then the sitter had to go to San Antonio with her real job and couldn't watch Campbell. I begged Heidi to take him for two hours, and she agreed. Then she called to say that she forgot that she had to take Matilda to art camp and asked if it was ok if Campbell went along for the ride.
I was joking at one point that I needed a color-coded chart to keep track of where all my children were and what time I was supposed to get them back again.
But as my mom pointed out, I'm very fortunate that I have the support network I do to make this morning possible. There are lots of moms who aren't so lucky.
The plan was supposed to be simple - I'd take Lily and Ella to school with me, and Ella would go to her friend Lisa's house from school and I'd pick her up afterwards. The sitter was supposed to arrive in time for Brandon to leave for a meeting, and she would stay with Campbell until I got home.
Things fell apart completely. When I told Heidi that Ella wouldn't be at swim lessons, Matilda got really upset. So Heidi offered to take Ella to lessons and then deliver her to Carol's house. Fine. Then the sitter had to go to San Antonio with her real job and couldn't watch Campbell. I begged Heidi to take him for two hours, and she agreed. Then she called to say that she forgot that she had to take Matilda to art camp and asked if it was ok if Campbell went along for the ride.
I was joking at one point that I needed a color-coded chart to keep track of where all my children were and what time I was supposed to get them back again.
But as my mom pointed out, I'm very fortunate that I have the support network I do to make this morning possible. There are lots of moms who aren't so lucky.
Monday, June 11, 2007
The "mom" voice
Saturday I was at the Danskin site for an hour or so, taking care of a few things on my list. I had the kids with me, and they were well behaved, for the most part. But at one point, I was up in the back of the supply truck digging around for some things and looked up to see Ella and Lily almost dump Campbell on his head out of the jogger. I yelled, "Girls, stop it!" Then I heard a very small voice say, "Yes m'am?" I turned to see two youngish volunteers, girls in their early 20s, frozen in front of me with startled looks. They had thought I was yelling at them, not my children. We all had a good laugh about how they still react to a "mom" voice, but then I got a little depressed. I'm old enough that two girls in their 20s think I could be their mom. Granted, I'd have been a teen mother, but still . . . I'm not going to be able to make that claim for very long.
The funny thing is that I've been struggling with Ella's lack of respect for me lately - she doesn't even flinch when I pull out my best "mom" voice. I've been saying I'd like to be able to strike a tiny bit of fear in her, but it hasn't happened yet. But there I was on Saturday, terrorizing grown-ups.
The funny thing is that I've been struggling with Ella's lack of respect for me lately - she doesn't even flinch when I pull out my best "mom" voice. I've been saying I'd like to be able to strike a tiny bit of fear in her, but it hasn't happened yet. But there I was on Saturday, terrorizing grown-ups.
Sunday, June 10, 2007
Danskin . . . done
Danskin is over. I think this was the best race day I've ever had. If nothing else, it was better than last year's when I cried three times before 7:00 am, and only one of those times was from something touching happening. The first time that day was when the head of one of our volunteer groups yelled at me. The second was when the mean timing lady yelled at me. I finally shouted that everyone needed to stop yelling at the pregnant lady. Marion found something else for me to do after that.
Today started on a good note when I turned onto Decker Lane behind a line of school buses headed to the parking area. We can't get 3,000 athletes and more than 3,000 spectators to the race site without the buses, so we were off to a good start when they showed up early. The next good thing was that our new volunteer coordinator beat all of the volunteers to the race site. When I arrived, she was already in her tent setting out shirts and lists of volunteers. We can't run the race without them, so having her there and set up was key.
I spent a lot of time floating around, putting out little fires and helping where necessary. I got to see Heidi before her swim - I even walked down to the water with her wave. I didn't get to see her the rest of the time, though.
I got a standing ovation from about 30 women in line for port-a-potties when I showed up with a case of toilet paper. I also got cheers when I pulled extra swim caps and markers out of a box.
The best moments, though, were when I helped two women who showed up more than an hour after the race started. One had been in a car accident on the way to the race. I don't know what happened to the other - she was just late and in tears. I took them both by the hands and guided them to the swim start where I got them body marked and in the water. One of the girls - the one who had been in the accident - gave me the biggest hug, which made my morning. My other great moment was when I rounded up a spare goodie bag for a woman who hadn't been able to make it to Expo or to compete because of a sick kid. I got a hug from her, too.
At the very end of the day, I caught up with a woman I'd given a pep talk to at the swim start. She had finished and was thrilled with her day. Her husband took pictures of us together. And I walked another woman through transition after she got off her bike. She was a little wobbly and I wanted to make sure she was ok to head out onto the run course. I saw her when she finished her run, and she was so proud.
It's moments like these that make all of the stress and frustration worth while. One of Heidi's friends asked why I didn't do Danskin, and my response was that I get so much more out of showing up on race day and helping pull everything together than I ever could from actually doing the event.
This was my 9th year, and even though I've said it was my last, I really might have to go back for number 10. It would be nice to round out the decade.
Today started on a good note when I turned onto Decker Lane behind a line of school buses headed to the parking area. We can't get 3,000 athletes and more than 3,000 spectators to the race site without the buses, so we were off to a good start when they showed up early. The next good thing was that our new volunteer coordinator beat all of the volunteers to the race site. When I arrived, she was already in her tent setting out shirts and lists of volunteers. We can't run the race without them, so having her there and set up was key.
I spent a lot of time floating around, putting out little fires and helping where necessary. I got to see Heidi before her swim - I even walked down to the water with her wave. I didn't get to see her the rest of the time, though.
I got a standing ovation from about 30 women in line for port-a-potties when I showed up with a case of toilet paper. I also got cheers when I pulled extra swim caps and markers out of a box.
The best moments, though, were when I helped two women who showed up more than an hour after the race started. One had been in a car accident on the way to the race. I don't know what happened to the other - she was just late and in tears. I took them both by the hands and guided them to the swim start where I got them body marked and in the water. One of the girls - the one who had been in the accident - gave me the biggest hug, which made my morning. My other great moment was when I rounded up a spare goodie bag for a woman who hadn't been able to make it to Expo or to compete because of a sick kid. I got a hug from her, too.
At the very end of the day, I caught up with a woman I'd given a pep talk to at the swim start. She had finished and was thrilled with her day. Her husband took pictures of us together. And I walked another woman through transition after she got off her bike. She was a little wobbly and I wanted to make sure she was ok to head out onto the run course. I saw her when she finished her run, and she was so proud.
It's moments like these that make all of the stress and frustration worth while. One of Heidi's friends asked why I didn't do Danskin, and my response was that I get so much more out of showing up on race day and helping pull everything together than I ever could from actually doing the event.
This was my 9th year, and even though I've said it was my last, I really might have to go back for number 10. It would be nice to round out the decade.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Helicopter mothers
Apparently that's the new term for mothers who hover over their kids all the time. I've found myself surrounded by good examples of them during swim lessons this past week.
There's a little boy in the class after Ella's who is home schooled - I know this because his mother talks often and loudly about it - whose mother is definitely a helicopter. She was hugging and kissing him this morning, which of course I do to my kids, but then she told him that he was just her best friend ever. Ewww.
During Lily's class, there are a whole bunch of helicopters lined up along the one-way mirrored window that looks out on the pool. They watch every move their kid makes, gasping when the kid goes under water, cheering when the kid blows bubbles, and clutching their chests when the kid cries.
I view the time that the girls are in their lessons as MY time. I sit and do nothing, or read, or return phone calls while Campbell scootches around on the floor. Some mornings I walk to the bakery next door and get coffee or iced tea and a snack. But I feel like the odd woman out when I do.
Yesterday, I walked next door while Lily was in her class to pick up a sandwich and salad. When I returned I glanced in at the pool to check on Lily before sitting down. One of the mothers shot me a nasty look and said, "YOUR daughter is just fine." It was like I had been neglectful by leaving for 10 minutes. I just smiled and sat down to read.
I guess I'm sensitive to this because none of my mom friends are like this - none of them. We peel our kids off us and run for the door if necessary at gymnastics or swim lessons or school. We don't hover around, watching every single move.
If I were to tell Brandon about this, he'd just laugh and say it was my own neuroses coming out. He'd say that the mother probably didn't mean anything by her comment, that she was just trying to be friendly and helpful. But still . . .
I can't claim to be completely innocent of helicoptering, though. For example, it's only just recently that I've decided it's ok for me to stay in bed for a few minutes in the mornings while the girls get their own granola bars and juice and watch cartoons. The key to this change was remembering when I was little - I distinctly remember getting up, getting a bowl of cereal and watching Bugs Bunny on weekend mornings while my parents were still in bed. I decided that if mom and dad allowed me to do that, I could let the girls do it too. It's made mornings a lot easier.
There's a little boy in the class after Ella's who is home schooled - I know this because his mother talks often and loudly about it - whose mother is definitely a helicopter. She was hugging and kissing him this morning, which of course I do to my kids, but then she told him that he was just her best friend ever. Ewww.
During Lily's class, there are a whole bunch of helicopters lined up along the one-way mirrored window that looks out on the pool. They watch every move their kid makes, gasping when the kid goes under water, cheering when the kid blows bubbles, and clutching their chests when the kid cries.
I view the time that the girls are in their lessons as MY time. I sit and do nothing, or read, or return phone calls while Campbell scootches around on the floor. Some mornings I walk to the bakery next door and get coffee or iced tea and a snack. But I feel like the odd woman out when I do.
Yesterday, I walked next door while Lily was in her class to pick up a sandwich and salad. When I returned I glanced in at the pool to check on Lily before sitting down. One of the mothers shot me a nasty look and said, "YOUR daughter is just fine." It was like I had been neglectful by leaving for 10 minutes. I just smiled and sat down to read.
I guess I'm sensitive to this because none of my mom friends are like this - none of them. We peel our kids off us and run for the door if necessary at gymnastics or swim lessons or school. We don't hover around, watching every single move.
If I were to tell Brandon about this, he'd just laugh and say it was my own neuroses coming out. He'd say that the mother probably didn't mean anything by her comment, that she was just trying to be friendly and helpful. But still . . .
I can't claim to be completely innocent of helicoptering, though. For example, it's only just recently that I've decided it's ok for me to stay in bed for a few minutes in the mornings while the girls get their own granola bars and juice and watch cartoons. The key to this change was remembering when I was little - I distinctly remember getting up, getting a bowl of cereal and watching Bugs Bunny on weekend mornings while my parents were still in bed. I decided that if mom and dad allowed me to do that, I could let the girls do it too. It's made mornings a lot easier.
Head full of sticky notes
That's how I described my mind to my editor the other night. We were still sending each other work-related e-mails at 10:00, and I was having a hard time keeping things straight. I feel like my brain is covered in sticky notes. The problem is that at least have of them have fluttered away, and I'm forgetting things.
Right now I've got my work for Holt; my second project with them just came on line, and now I'm trying to keep track of two big things. Then there's Danskin. It's this Sunday, and I'm way more stressed about it than I anticipated. And I'm helping plan the going-away party for the director at our preschool. My big job was to send out invitations, and I messed that up, big time. Then there's the house, kids, husband, laundry, bill paying, grocery shopping that make up the rest of my life. I just can't get it all done.
I'll be so relieved when this week is over and I can cross Danskin and the going-away party off my list of things to worry about. I'm sure life will be better then.
How did I mess up the invitations? I sent out an evite to all current school families, then I sent a printed invitation to a list of folks the director gave me. I copied all the pertinent information straight from the evite, proofread it several times, and sent out lots of copies. I didn't notice the problem until I received the first of many e-mails and phone calls letting me know that I had forgotten to include the where and when on the invitation. Son of a bi*ch. So I had to send out postcards to the list saying "Ooops!" and providing the missing info.
Right now I'm trying to make my life less stressful by giving up on working during the day when all three kids are floating around. My goal is to not even answer e-mails. I need to stop, take a deep breath and remember to enjoy this time with them. Work and laundry and dishes and such can wait.
Right now I've got my work for Holt; my second project with them just came on line, and now I'm trying to keep track of two big things. Then there's Danskin. It's this Sunday, and I'm way more stressed about it than I anticipated. And I'm helping plan the going-away party for the director at our preschool. My big job was to send out invitations, and I messed that up, big time. Then there's the house, kids, husband, laundry, bill paying, grocery shopping that make up the rest of my life. I just can't get it all done.
I'll be so relieved when this week is over and I can cross Danskin and the going-away party off my list of things to worry about. I'm sure life will be better then.
How did I mess up the invitations? I sent out an evite to all current school families, then I sent a printed invitation to a list of folks the director gave me. I copied all the pertinent information straight from the evite, proofread it several times, and sent out lots of copies. I didn't notice the problem until I received the first of many e-mails and phone calls letting me know that I had forgotten to include the where and when on the invitation. Son of a bi*ch. So I had to send out postcards to the list saying "Ooops!" and providing the missing info.
Right now I'm trying to make my life less stressful by giving up on working during the day when all three kids are floating around. My goal is to not even answer e-mails. I need to stop, take a deep breath and remember to enjoy this time with them. Work and laundry and dishes and such can wait.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Double poopy mama
Ella lost her freaking mind last night, just lost it. As a treat, I had gotten special cookies from Russell's bakery. They were flowers: one orange, one pink. Lily picked her cookie first and chose the pink one. After dinner, when Ella picked hers, she got upset because she had to have the orange one. She complained until I told her that if she said one more word Grampa was going to get her cookie. It deteriorated from there. I wanted to take a picture of my dad with all three kids. Lily and Campbell were willing, but Ella sat with her back to the camera. So Ella got sent to her room. When she started screaming and kicking the wall, Brandon heaved her into bed, fully dressed. We were then treated to a half hour of her screaming about how we didn't love her, we only loved Lily and Campbell and she never gets pink cookies. Brandon finally took away this morning's swim lesson as a consequence of her behavior.
At some point she threw a letter in the living room for me. It was addressed to "dlbl poop mom" and the inside said,
I do not like you!
I do not love you!
There's a picture of a cartoon cat on the stationary, and he has a bubble coming out of his mouth that says "You are the worst!"
Enclosed in the note was a scrap of paper that said, sic all:
To dlbl poop pee mom. I donot love you, I do not like you.
Later, after I had gone in and listened to her tale of woe and assured her that I loved her very much despite her behavior, Ella brought out another letter. This one said, again sic all:
You make me think you love lily 100% . You love me 0%, but you are rait it was not wothth it that I will mis simlesins. I am sorey.
There's also a picture of her with a sad face and a tear drop.
When I was in listening to Ella's tears and complaints, my initial reaction was to defend myself by saying things like, "Of course I love you. Of course I don't love your sister and brother more. Yes, you do get to pick the cookie first sometimes. Yes, I have bought you pink flower cookies." But as I was about to open my mouth, I realized it would be pointless to say anything. Ella wasn't going to hear what I was saying. She just needed someone to listen. So I stayed quiet and just rubbed her back while she settled down.
Things are better this morning. I've made sure to give her extra love so that she knows I'm not upset about last night or holding it against her. Even so, despite her note, Ella didn't get to go to swim lessons. I hope she has actually learned something from this experience. I know I have - I'm a double poopy mama.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Lazy days at the lake
We've spent much of the past two weekends up at our "Lake Place" on Lake LBJ outside of Kingsland. We went up Sunday and Monday last week, despite the threatening weather, and again this Sunday, which had perfect weather.
I didn't get to spend much time at the lake last summer. I got put on partial bed rest and banned from going on the boat in early July. But Brandon took the girls up at least once a weekend for most of the summer. They were lake rats by the end of August.
Now that I can go up there, I'm really appreciating that we have this little retreat. Right now it's just a lot and boat dock, but someday we'll have a house there, and it will be wonderful. Even now, in its rustic state, I love just sitting in a chair on the dock watching the boats go by and swimming with the girls and cheering for Ella when she jumps off the roof of the boat house.
Mostly I love being there because it's so peaceful and because there's no work to. Brandon is the grill master, so I don't have to be in charge of hot dogs. And the girls help themselves to fruit and snack from the cooler, so I don't have to make their meals. Plus there's no laundry to be done, no dishes staring at me, no e-mails waiting to be answered. I can sit in my chair, watch the girls swim and Campbell splash in his pool and do nothing at all. That's a rare luxury for me.
I'm enjoying it while I can, because I know that once there's a house up there, I'll be doing laundry and dishes in a different location.
I didn't get to spend much time at the lake last summer. I got put on partial bed rest and banned from going on the boat in early July. But Brandon took the girls up at least once a weekend for most of the summer. They were lake rats by the end of August.
Now that I can go up there, I'm really appreciating that we have this little retreat. Right now it's just a lot and boat dock, but someday we'll have a house there, and it will be wonderful. Even now, in its rustic state, I love just sitting in a chair on the dock watching the boats go by and swimming with the girls and cheering for Ella when she jumps off the roof of the boat house.
Mostly I love being there because it's so peaceful and because there's no work to. Brandon is the grill master, so I don't have to be in charge of hot dogs. And the girls help themselves to fruit and snack from the cooler, so I don't have to make their meals. Plus there's no laundry to be done, no dishes staring at me, no e-mails waiting to be answered. I can sit in my chair, watch the girls swim and Campbell splash in his pool and do nothing at all. That's a rare luxury for me.
I'm enjoying it while I can, because I know that once there's a house up there, I'll be doing laundry and dishes in a different location.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Danskin, again
It's happened, again. Each year, I finish Danskin weekend and swear that I am never, ever going to work on the event again. Then Marion calls me in February and asks if I'm in or not. And I say yes. Last year took a toll on me: I was pregnant, Marion was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. It was really bad.
So when Marion told me that she was stepping down as race director, I saw it as my opportunity to take a giant step back from Danskin. When the new director e-mailed to see if I wanted to be involved, I gave him a provisional yes. I agreed to help round up suppliers for things like scaffolding and fencing and porta-pots and t-shirts. And I told him I was only available for two of the three days of Danskin and gave him the choice of which two. He chose Friday and Sunday.
But now I'm slowly getting sucked back in, doing more work and worrying way more than I had planned. I've even had Danskin-induced insomnia the past few nights, starting at the ceiling making mental lists of things to do and check on.
It's a different kind of stress this year, though. In the past, Marion has caused stress by calling and e-mailing me, asking over and over again whether things have been done and confirmed and reconfirmed. This time my worry is that something isn't going to be done. The new race director is about as laid back a human as I've ever met. He just doesn't get fussed about much. And because he's not double and triple confiming things with me, I'm not sure they're getting done, and I'm worrying about it all.
I need to let go and remember that it's not my job to make sure everything is done. I'm just responsible for scaffold, fence, porta-pots and shirts. That's it.
But it will all be worth it in the end. I always cry on race day seeing all of the women out there in the lake. It will be even more special this year since Heidi is competing. My goal is to make it to the finish line and see her come across. I'd love to be the one to hand her her medal.
But next year, I swear, I'm not helping as much. Really.
So when Marion told me that she was stepping down as race director, I saw it as my opportunity to take a giant step back from Danskin. When the new director e-mailed to see if I wanted to be involved, I gave him a provisional yes. I agreed to help round up suppliers for things like scaffolding and fencing and porta-pots and t-shirts. And I told him I was only available for two of the three days of Danskin and gave him the choice of which two. He chose Friday and Sunday.
But now I'm slowly getting sucked back in, doing more work and worrying way more than I had planned. I've even had Danskin-induced insomnia the past few nights, starting at the ceiling making mental lists of things to do and check on.
It's a different kind of stress this year, though. In the past, Marion has caused stress by calling and e-mailing me, asking over and over again whether things have been done and confirmed and reconfirmed. This time my worry is that something isn't going to be done. The new race director is about as laid back a human as I've ever met. He just doesn't get fussed about much. And because he's not double and triple confiming things with me, I'm not sure they're getting done, and I'm worrying about it all.
I need to let go and remember that it's not my job to make sure everything is done. I'm just responsible for scaffold, fence, porta-pots and shirts. That's it.
But it will all be worth it in the end. I always cry on race day seeing all of the women out there in the lake. It will be even more special this year since Heidi is competing. My goal is to make it to the finish line and see her come across. I'd love to be the one to hand her her medal.
But next year, I swear, I'm not helping as much. Really.
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