The cost

Tia Dalma (Pirates of the Caribbean) says, “There is a cost must be paid in the end.”

This is a post I’ve wanted to write for three years. A post I haven’t been ready to write. To put into words the maelstrom of emotions of an event you were always only on the sidelines for, but are nevertheless affected by. The grief that comes with being unable to let go of something when you were ready, even though it was never “yours” to hold. And, the attachment that still forms as the supporting cast, even if you are never the main character.

Disclaimer for the MC of our story: my darling girl, I was never so proud of you as I was when you decided something you’d put so much into was no longer for you and you put it down, on your own terms. If you read this, please know this is my own journey and, while parts of it intersected with your own, it’s not a statement on your decisions about your personal well-being; it is a reflection on my very complicated reaction before, during, and after those decisions.

When she came to me as a sparkly 11-year-old and said she wanted to be a cheerleader, I had no idea what we were getting into, but I knew I wanted to find a way to support it. Growing up, I’d always wanted to be a cheerleader, but resources meant it was never more than a pipe dream. I had all the enthusiasm, but none of the skill. So, when she came to me and asked if she could take lessons learning how to tumble, I started shopping around. She started a few classes at one of the local cheer gyms. Within a year, she wanted to try out for one of their competitive teams and she made a team.

It became a centerpiece of our lives. It was no longer her hobby, it was a family endeavor to plan around this commitment. If she was in the gym, I was in the gym. I made friends as I became a regular part of the scene up there. In my way, I helped put activities together, planned goodie bags and team bonding things, and so on.

If you haven’t been in the competitive or club world (yet) with your kids, can I tell you it’s SO MUCH MORE EXPENSIVE than you think it’s going to be, both in time and actual money. We were into the bows, bags, uniforms, and all the stuff that comes with it, because every comp had a pop-up store with special t-shirts, warm-ups, and all the BLING. It rubs off on you too. Before long, I was wearing bling, carrying “the cheer mom” bag of the season, and I was up on all the latest trends that the big gyms were wearing (Nfinity, Nike pros, etc.). Then we started traveling. Six comps in a season lasting from November to April (ish). Hotels, gas, food, comp entry tickets, and even plane tickets for end-of-season comps. For the 6 seasons she cheered, we probably could have bought a small house with what we spent.

And I was so happy to do it. The time she cheered was one of my favorite times with her. Because of the cost, we all didn’t travel to competitions; just she and I. And, while I was sad her dad didn’t get to watch her as much as he wanted to, I enjoyed the time with her. It became “our thing,” to go and have these adventures together. Our relationship was always strong, but it became stronger and closer – a friendship of sorts as she grew up. Little did I know how much we would test that friendship later, but I’m so glad we had it to see us through.

Then 2020 happened and the world just…stopped. I will never forget, for the rest of my life, the surreal news about the start of quarantine. The week prior had been a gigantic week. She competed at NCA and took third place in the nation with her cheer team, tried out and made Varsity for her Senior year (coming that fall), and participated in the Wildflower Ball, a process she began as a 6th grader. We were planning college visits that spring, looking forward to AP testing to hopefully get some credits; a payoff for years of hard work in advanced classes throughout middle and high school, and getting excited about the Blue and White game, the “unofficial” start of her senior season as a Varsity cheerleader.

We all know how quarantine happened and we’ve seen the stacks of research that’s been done on the emotional impact of the quarantine on kids. That was a very hard spring and summer. I will not speak on that here, but it was heartwrenching to see the car crash impact how the complete and utter failure of the Advanced Placement tests moved online with no warning, testing, or preparation; the shutdown of schools–the microcosm of teenage social structure and everything familiar; and the impact of isolation WRECKED kids. How canceling prom, spring football, the blue and white game, and EVERY SINGLE OTHER THING in her life would completely derail everything. It was a very dark time. We wrapped our arms around each other as a family and held on for dear life. Literally at times. It was messy, but we survived. Mostly.

Coming out of spring/summer and into the fall, we thought to shake it off and try and have a Senior year. But she had changed. Six months in quarantine gave her time and space to reflect on how much all that cheer was costing her body. Her knees and back hurt all the time. She was pushed to constantly test the limits of what her body could do, and what her psyche could overcome. When it worked, it was thrilling. When it didn’t, it was terrifying. I will fight anybody who says cheer isn’t as demanding a sport as football or soccer.

When school started, we were going to try and put the miserable months before behind us and enjoy her Senior year. Like many Senior parents, I had been collecting ideas almost the whole time she was in high school. I was looking forward to all the “last firsts” of the year, finishing an incredible experience with lots of memories and celebrations. But the hits from COVID weren’t over. Football in Texas is something like a religion here and cheer is right in the middle of it all. All the traditions and activities like sign painting, pep rallies, team dinners, traveling with the band and drill team, etc. were canceled. The first football scrimmage POURED down rain and it just snapped something in her. She said cheer just wasn’t fun without all the things. In her words, without all the other fun stuff, cheer was just the drama – all the work and none of the fun. She quit.

In quick succession, before the emotions settled from the high school cheer bombshell, she also quit competitive cheer. The sudden shock that reverberated out of the blast zone of ground zero was her sudden shift in priorities, creating a fallout that took a long time to get over.

From the time your child enters high school, the clock is running down to graduation. It’s a race to zero. Sometimes, it feels like every day is either the first or last of something and you spend your time desperately trying to enjoy the minute, look back on how far they’ve come, or look and plan ahead to senior year. I had Pinterest boards and idea notebooks for her senior year. I had senior pictures with megaphones, cheer shoes, and medals planned; on football fields and spring floors. I had the outline of a senior album I wanted to make for her with all the “last firsts” like last homecoming, last home game, last cheer banquet, last NCA, last team practice, and on and on. And then, it all just stopped.

The silence was deafening, but I wanted to scream. “What about me? What about my goodbye?”

Before I go any further, I want to reiterate that this is not about the decision she made for her. Cheer was expensive. It cost her (and us) physically, emotionally, financially, and time. She didn’t have time for friends outside of her two teams, and dating was an exercise in futility because she was so busy with her commitments, and rest…well, she didn’t.

While my logical brain knew and accepted in my heart this was her decision to make and she made it for herself, I was devastated. I told myself all along that I was ready, eager even, for her Senior year. That I would cherish every minute of it as a grand farewell to childhood tour, before we sang, “E’er Victorious,” for the very last time at graduation. Now none of those ideas would happen. It was just…over.

This part of our life which had become such a big part of our normal life was just gone and it left a hole.

Now, before you feel some kind of way because it sounds like POOR CHEER MAMA, I will say going to football games with her sitting next to me and not on the sidelines was really fun. Having her in the house and not at the gym all the time was really fun. Going to see her at a job she hadn’t been able to work at very much was really fun. We had a lot of fun that year. And we still did Senior pictures, prom, and graduation – something the class before her didn’t get to do. So I am grateful, even with all the differences.

But, if I’m honest, I will always wish it had happened differently. That we’d been able to have her Senior season. That COVID hadn’t happened and screwed it all up. But it did and we didn’t and that’s all there is to say. And she’s never regretted her decisions and–three years later–I can say I don’t regret it either.

Why now, you might ask? It’s been all this time, surely I’m not still pining to be a cheer mom. And the answer would be no, I’m not. She’s had a good college experience and I took all those hard-learned lessons as a cheer mom to be a solidly laid-back club volleyball and soccer mom now. All the wisdom, none of the hysteria. I don’t even own any bling.

And maybe, just maybe, I learned not to get so attached to it or make it so much part of my life that I can’t put it down when the kids do. But, every once in a while, I’ll come across a picture, or a pin on Pinterest and I’ll just sigh, remember the cost, then move on.

Just Keep Swimming

For the thirtymillionth time this week, “just keep swimming,” is in my head. It’s August and that means summer is officially over. Not that we have much summer here, in Crazyville.

Coach is off, but he gets pretty tired of being “off” after about a month and the Cheerleader is back at daily workouts and practices after the 4th of July. So, we stay pretty busy even when we’re not so busy. Our normal “not so busy” looks like a lot of other families’ super busy. #sportslife

Margaret Thatcher and The Boy have both asked to play soccer this fall, the Cheerleader’s booked us up every evening but Saturdays, and of course Coach practically lives at the school now.

So. Hi.

My last post was right before the election. And then THAT happened. I am still so speechless at the utter circus in the White House right now, I don’t even know where to start.

(amiright?)

I started Camp Gladiator and I’m already down a pant size. But, more importantly, I realized this morning I can’t remember the last time I took Advil in the evening because I was achy and creaky from sitting in my chair all day at work; carrying all that stress in the back of my neck or back. Work is still a barrel of monkeys every day, but I no longer dread feeling like I’ve been drop kicked in the face every night.

I’m also using my standing desk more often, drinking less coffee/more water, and making myself leave the office and go home for lunch.

Ah, work. Still a great job. Still love what I do, love the team, love what we’re accomplishing. This is the Empire Strikes Back part of the project so we’re all working really hard, feeling like we’re not exactly getting anywhere, but it’s just a plateau. We’ll push through and then we’ll be back off to the races. We’ll work it out.

I feel myself coming to a bit of a crossroads with work. There is so much still to do/build/accomplish. But the past few months have felt like a total grind and I’m really missing building, training, and COMMUNICATING. I have done this work thing in this brain, and with this heart long enough to know that communication and training other people how to communicate is where my passion is. In the words of Tigger, “it’s what Tiggers do best!” As important as pulling and analyzing metrics IS and as much as I’m 100% committed to what I’m doing RIGHTNOWDONTLOSESIGHTOFTHISPROJECT, I know I’m going to have to get back to training/communicating or I will begin to atrophy those muscles I’ve worked so hard to build over an almost 20 year career. God did not create me to be a Commander type for nothing.

Since my last post, I promoted to Director with Thirty-One Gifts. Something I don’t post much about here, but it’s become a really important part of my life. I truly feel part of something with Thirty-One that I don’t have anywhere else. Yes, it’s one more thing to do, but it’s as much part of my day as coffee.

 

I’m certain there’s more. But, this is a lot in one update. For my friends who follow me on facebook, none of this is news, but I miss writing (see my bit above about not creating content).

Later, gators.

put your shades on, turn       up the music, &        DEAL WITH IT.