I’m back from El Salvador. It was increds. Other than the 196 texts I received from my daughter while away. You think I’m exaggerating. You think WRONG.
I put the trip on the calendar many months ago. Like ten months ago. I did so because the hubs travels extensively for work, and I wanted to be sure he wouldn’t schedule anything. He scheduled a trip to Asia anyway. Which is super fucking annoying, but he is the bread winner, and I’m a big fan of bread, so I didn’t give him too hard of a time. Fortunately we have local grandparents who were willing to take on a week of tending to the tween and teen.
As ~luck~ would have it, soccer state qualifiers were scheduled for the same week I was to be away. And by I, of course I mean my husband and I. Because he booked a trip when I already had one on the calendar. Did I mention that?
Had I known soccer state qualifiers would fall on this particular week, and that the traveling peddler husband would be out of town, I don’t know if I’d have planned to go on the trip. Because it would’ve been one of those ‘moms cannot fucking win’ situations. If I go, I’m terrible for missing something the good soccer moms of the world would not dare to miss. And if I don’t go, I’m telling everyone, including my soccer player, that I AM NOTHING MORE THAN A MOM, AND THAT’S ALL I NEED, AND IT’S ALL YOU SHOULD NEED TOO, BECAUSE, VAGINA. And, yeah, that’s a bit of an exaggeration, and I don’t really think that’s the lesson my soccer player would’ve taken from me staying, but then again, on some level, what would I really have been telling her by opting out of an experience I really wanted to partake in?
I ultimately didn’t have to make a choice, because once circumstances of the week became apparent, I was already committed; which is fortuitous, because I am beyond shitty at decision making. But, I did have some guilt. Not just about soccer, but about leaving my kids in general, because they don’t love it when I’m gone (despite them showing pretty much constant disdain for me when I’m around); and God forbid they not be 100% happy and comfortable in this world, AMIRIGHT??!!
So, I went. And on Tuesday, my first full day away, I got a text from E asking if she could go camping over the weekend if it didn’t conflict with soccer. Another ~fun fact~ of our week is that the schedule for aforementioned soccer state qualifiers wasn’t officially known until Wednesday. Sports mom purgatory is actually a ~fun fact~ of my entire existence: knowing a kid has a tournament on a certain day or weekend, but not getting the exact schedule until sometimes as late as the evening before, so putting the entire family’s schedule in flux and essentially prohibiting the planning of anything not completely kid-centric. But that is a post for another day.
I was relatively certain the soccer schedule would prohibit camping, but since it wasn’t in place, I decided to say, “sure, if camping doesn’t conflict with soccer, you can go.” Because, really, why not let the scene shake out and then the soccer schedulers can be the bad guys that keep her from camping and I don’t have to be the bitch momma.
Apparently the El Salvadoran heat was getting to me. Or I accidentally drank the tap water. Or the cold showers were causing disintegration of my brain cells. Because I always, no matter what, am the bitch momma; and every bad thing that happens in my kids’ world is ALL MY FAULT.
Game schedule was published and game was scheduled for Sunday at 2pm. After at least an hour (felt like 10, honestly) of texting back and forth and a couple of calls over wi-fi (I mercifully had no cell service, so this entire drama was only able to play out when I was at our hostel), we established that she would go camping on Friday night and come home on Saturday evening to assure a good night’s sleep in her own bed before Sunday’s game.
Then coach scheduled a practice for Friday evening. Which was, of course, say it with me now: ALL MY FAULT. I told her she could skip it if she wanted, she just needed to talk to her coach. Which of course she didn’t want to do, because she knew coach would likely not be terribly supportive of missing the last practice before what would essentially be the biggest game of the season.
She decided she wouldn’t go camping. And I thought we were finally done with this drama.
Again, the heat must’ve been getting to me.
Because we’re never ever ever ever done with the fucking drama.
I’ve now successfully gone off on so many tangents that I am way over my 750 word limit for a post. If you’re still reading, I encourage you to get a life. Or at least find some less verbose bloggers to follow.
The condensed version of the rest of the story is she went camping on Saturday. And ran four miles. And canoed seven miles. And hiked. Ya know, a nice restful day before a game. Then on Sunday she played soccer. The team won. The state tournament is next week. Perhaps she should ride Ragbrai this weekend. I give up.
Believe it or not, this is but a small sampling of our correspondence.