I wish me luck
I say that because I do not know exactly how many of you are out there, reading my thoughts. If you happen to say hi to this site anytime between now (it's half past 2 a.m.) and lunchtime later, please jump along and wish me luck, too.
You see, it is my daughter's school's Family Fun Day. It should be a walk in the park, right? Just lots of sun and even more fun, all lightness and ease, like a perfect summer's day. But here's the real deal: my daughter is not exactly like me. When it comes to playing, winning is a big part of the fun. She has great expectations because like her father, she is a natural when it comes to sports. I. Am. Not. She likes competing, and she likes winning. I can be a super mommy in every other way but admittedly, I suck in a major way when it comes to most everything truly athletic and competitive.
Case in point: Years back during one such school activity I was coerced (by my daughter, who else) to join a game she was confident I could be fairly decent at. It was -- this is embarrassing -- an egg-catching contest with a mother-daughter team-up against other mother-daughter team ups and -- this is even more embarrassing -- we lost in the first round. Among the two long rows of eager little girls (on one side) and eager-to-please-their-little girl mommies (on the other side) we were the first to be eliminated. Because I dropped the egg. Even if we were only an arm's length apart. I tried to catch it, I really did, but I miscalculated the distance. I saw the horror in my daughter's face when the yolk splashed dramatically on the cold cement floor, over and around the crisp, delicate bits of eggshell. Horrified silence. And then the drawn out muttered-under-her-breath incredulous 'Mooooooooooooom.....why did you drop the egg?' My daughter was near tears. After giving me so many instructions about handling the poor egg gently (lest it breaks), swinging my arm just the right way, focusing on how the it travelled from her hand to mine and back, there I was, dropping the egg almost the first chance I got. It is a horrible feeling when you know you caused a little heart to be break, especially if it happened to be your daughter's, and even if it were only over eggs.
The pain that memory has left in her little heart has since faded significantly, thank God that time really does heal. We laugh a lot about it now and it has made for a mommy story other mommies I know love to have me repeat over and over. It's all good.
But now with another Family Fun Day looming just hours ahead, I feel the pressure building up, slow but sure. How can I not. These are the soundbytes of our evening prayers:
Juliana: Dear Jesus, please help our team win. Please help mommy be good at the games. Please do not let her drop the egg.
Me: Jesus, please help Juliana not get mad if (when is more like it!) I drop the egg again.
Juliana (with eyes fervently closed): Please help us win Jesus. Please LET our team win. I do not want to bring home a basket of fruits.
Me: Why, what do the winners get?
Juliana: A bigger basket of fruits!
Me: What is a nice prize for contests like this?
Juliana (excitedly, smiling): Cartolina! Poster board! (In that sense, she is very much my daughter. I would choose the fruits now but when I was her age, a pack of school supplies was king!)
We finished our prayers with me giggling. Nervously, I must admit.
For now all I know for sure is that I must wear green. And that I must pray.
Please, Dear God, may I not be the first to drop the egg.
(I) wish me luck.
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