I'm Now a Parent of a High School Graduate. How Did That Happen?

Fear.  It’s the first emotion I had after they placed my daughter in my arms 17 years ago.  Not elation or happiness, just naked terror.  I was now a mother and I didn’t know the first thing about it.

I’m thinking this as I watch Emma walk across the stage at her high school graduation.  It’s one of many thoughts and emotions that slide in and out of my head on a day I thought was still a long way off.

When I talk to other moms about how awful I felt during those first few months of Emma’s life, I get odd looks and tight lips.  The judgment is there, silent but so loud.  The enormity of being responsible for another human being was incredibly terrifying to me.  Which was ironic because I am the youngest of seven kids and grew up looking after eight nieces and nephews at one time or another.  Being a mom should have come naturally.  But it took time and a battle with post partum depression to figure everything out.  I remember holding her in my arms and looking out the window as the sun set and wondering how I was going to do this for the next eighteen years.

But time has a way of moving faster than I so desperately wanted it to back then. 

Suddenly, it seems, I open my eyes and she is grown up and moving out in a few weeks, off to university to forge her own path.  I am so proud of the person she has become.  She is intelligent and kind, quick to see the best in everyone and every situation.  Her quirky personality sets her apart from the crowd and it is something of which I really love.

She is ready and eager to get on with this next part of her life.  I, on the other hand, am not. 

I have been the boss for almost 18 years, and it’s a title I am struggling to relinquish.  Old habits die hard I guess.  This has been cause for more than a few arguments over the past year.  We have been butting heads a lot.  She, trying to pull away.  Me, walking that line between knowing that she still needs some guidance and allowing her to make her own decisions.

It’s exhausting.  In my more morose moments, I envision a life as a hermit, responsible for only myself, living in a world where my actions affect no one but me.

So I have to admit there is some relief in this stage of parenting.  She will be on her own, making her own choices.  And although I will always be available if she needs my help, I am finally, blessedly retiring from my title as boss and moving into that of advisor.  At least, that is my hope.

Despite all of these epiphanies, I have not quite come to terms with this huge shift in my life.  It doesn’t seem real yet.  I don’t think I will truly get it until the day we move her out and into her new home.  Maybe when I return home that day and look into her empty bedroom reality will strike.  Maybe it will gut punch me.  But I suspect it will be more of a slow realization, striking during moments when I set the table for three instead of four.  Or in that extra silence that her absence will produce.

It’s going to be different for sure.

Until then I’m going to stop dwelling on the past and the future and enjoy the remaining time I have with her.   It’s not the end of the world, just the beginning of an exciting new journey for both of us.

Building a Coach's Character

I think I’m going to throw up.  Actually vomit all over the bleachers in front of me.  Anyone looking at me wouldn’t guess in a million years how nervous I really am.  After all, I’ve been involved with basketball close to 30 years in some shape or form.  Mostly, I’ve been a player.  But today I am a coach.  And I’ve only been to two practices.

When I agreed to help out my daughter’s coach, filling in for him for a couple of tournament games, I was excited.  It is her final year and being part of her last basketball moments would be so cool.  

Now however, reality has struck.  Will I be able to help them at all?  Will I make the right decisions?  I’ve always shied away from big responsibility.  It’s why I never became an editor.  Or a head coach.  Frankly, it scares the crap out of me.  If I were to really think about where this anxiety comes from, I would guess that it stems from a huge lack of self-confidence along with that burning dread of disappointing and failing others.

It’s too late to delve into that now though.  Thankfully, I am in charge of a wonderful group of girls and they know what to do.  All I have to do is steer them in the right direction.

As I sit and watch the warm up I make a few notes.  Otherwise, I’m afraid nothing will come out of my mouth when they all stand around looking expectantly at me.

The warm up clock winds down and sweat trickles down my back.  Music blares and the thump of the drums fills my head.  I wish I was on the court instead of the sidelines.  It would be so much easier there. 

I shed the thought and concentrate on the game.  The girls come in and my notes prove to be an anchor for me as I relay our plan.  The buzzer goes and the game is on. 

I love how distraction can be a savior.  As the game progresses, I forget all about the rock in my stomach because I have no time to invest in myself.  It is all about the game.  I am completely wrapped up in helping these girls-who have invested so much of their time to be here-succeed.  Sadly, we lose in overtime by three points.  I watch as that all-to-familiar disappointment seems to cover them like a heavy blanket.

This feeling is not lost on me.  As a player, I endured countless gut-wrenching losses.  The same self-recriminations come back to me now like they did all those years ago.  I know there were decisions I should have made, things I should have said.  I look at the team and give them the same speech made by many coaches before me:  Good game, it could have gone either way, we played hard. 

Now though, I wish I could have been more insightful.  I wish I could have told them something deep and thought provoking like those speeches I’ve watched a hundred times in Hoosiers or Coach Carter. 

Later, I realize that I didn’t really need to say anything because all athletes gain something every time they step on the court whether it’s spoken by a coach or not.  That slow but amazing emergence of character, built with each loss and victory. 

The team turns it around for their last game and we win by ten points.  Looking at their smiling faces, it’s gratifying to know I played a small part in this success.  I don’t say much to them afterwards.  I don’t need to. 

I suppose every coach is different-some are better than others.  I’m just glad I took this risk.  After all, my character could still use some building.

The Attitude of Gratitude

My breath puffs out in large streams, turning the tips of my hair frosty white.  I push through the snow and lean into the blustery arctic wind.  My cheeks are frozen and my nose is running.  Everything about this moment is uncomfortable.  I love it.

My friends and family will be surprised at this admission.  Winter has never been my favorite season for so many reasons:  I have to wear to many layers of clothing, endure freezing cars, shovel heaps of snow and I loath the way the bitter cold makes my body hurt. I could go on, as could most Canadians.  But I will stop there. 

The reason for this change is all about attitude and gratitude.  My 366 Project, which I’ve been doing faithfully for 17 days now, has played a major role.  Instead of thinking about how awful winter can be my mind has been busy thinking about how grateful I am for everyone and everything in my life.  Even before heading out the door, I realize I’m thankful for my warm clothes, for a cozy house to come back to, for the beautiful, pristine snow that blankets the earth.  For my awesome dog.

I also keep in mind something the Norwegians like to say:  “There is no such thing as crappy weather, just crappy clothes.”  They are so right. 

I look up and push my toque back so I can see a little more around me.  I have found a quiet and peaceful place to walk, and I am thankful for this break from my busy life.  Even if it is -25. 

At first, I worried that this project would be difficult.  How am I going to find something to be thankful for everyday?  What’s going to happen when I have a bad day, when things go wrong?  Well so far, the bad moments haven’t affected me the way they usually would and I think I know the reason.  I have had stressful moments certainly.  But I am thinking more and more about the good things, the amazing things around me, and the joy that comes from that has infected my entire attitude.  I have had no problem finding something or somebody to be thankful for.  Everyday.

But hey, I don’t want to paint a picture of myself walking around with a big smile on my face, all wide eyes and skipping while singing What A Wonderful World.  It’s not like that.  It’s more like I’ve finally surfaced after years of letting myself get dragged down by circumstances.  The last two weeks, laughter and smiles have come more easily.  It helps of course, that I have my camera in my hands everyday.  It is my passion.  Doing something I love is definitely an asset.

So I will carry on with my project and my new attitude.  I wonder where this will take me and what else I am going to learn.  I’m excited to find out.