My beautiful boy is running in his first track meet today. I dropped him off and watched him walk across a high school parking lot to his waiting team. I gave him a hug before he got out of the car and told him how proud I was of him because I am so proud. So very proud of this person who is becoming less my little boy and more a of young man every day.
And as I watched him walk away, I cried.
I won’t be at his meet today. I wish I could be, but it just doesn’t work this time. There are kids home for Spring Break. There’s a toddler who needs a nap. There’s a baby who will need to be fed. Sometimes we can find a way to get to these events that always seem to be at the most inconvenient times, but today it just isn’t happening.
This definitely isn’t the first time I’ve missed big moments in his life. There have been basketball games and soccer and a Rubik’s Cube competition and cross country meets and a skateboarding competition and I don’t even know what else. I remember the first time I had to miss a soccer game when he was still too little to tie his own shoes and I felt like I had to turn in my “Good Mom” card because isn’t being at ALL your child’s games the definition of a Good Mom?
That’s just not the reality for our family. And I can’t tell you how thankful I am that my son doesn’t hold it against me. I’m so proud of how he’s learned to be an advocate for what he needs. He will make sure I know what events are nonnegotiable and he’ll help me problem-solve how I can be there. He’s also gracious when I can’t make it. He knows in a big family, sometimes other people’s needs come first. I hate that he may not always feel like the most important person in the universe, but I also think part of the reason he’s a pretty great kid is because he knows he’s not the most important person in the universe.
Oldest kids sometimes have to sacrifice for the needs of the littles. And he remembers all the times those little kids got dragged along and sat in the hot sun to watch him try a new sport or endured endless renditions of “Hot Cross Buns” as the big kids each took their turn in the elementary school band. This is what we do in a big family. We sacrifice for each other. That doesn’t mean it’s easy.
At this exact moment I just want to be watching him run. He was made to run and right now he should be lining up at the start. I feel grieved, even though I know this was the outcome that made the most sense for everybody. My husband will be there. He isn’t alone. But I’m sad because I want to watch him. There are few things in this world that give me more joy than watching him do what he was so clearly made to do. Missing out on that moment is hard. And it fills me with guilt.
I want to be everything to all my kids. I want to personally meet each need. I don’t want to miss a moment and I want those moments to be perfect. But what kind of world would that be if my kids thought I was capable of perfection? What kind of pressure would that put on them to think they needed to be perfect too? That we should be capable of meeting every need? What opportunities would they miss out on to let other people love and support them? When I can’t be there, it’s grandparents that step in. It’s their youth pastor and his wife. It’s teachers and aunts and their friends’ parents and our neighbors and my best friends that fill in those gaps. My kids know they have a wide circle of support because they’ve had to watch me fail at juggling all the balls that need to be kept in the air.
I may be limited by the needs of a large family, but I know for other moms it can be the demands of a job or their own health needs or managing the health needs of a family member that leave them feeling guilty. Sometimes we can’t be the mom we want to be. It hurts, but my hope is that this is happening in a context of love that helps our kids process it well.
My son knows with absolutely certainty that I am rooting for him. Sometimes I send him videos of all of his siblings and me cheering from home. We talk about his activities and I try to stay informed about friendships and practices and the challenges and joys of what he’s doing. He knows he is loved and that while I may miss some events, I will also move heaven and earth to be where he needs me to be when he needs me to be there.
So run fast today! Run as fast as you can. Know that I’ll be cheering you from home, waiting to hear all about it when you get back. I’m making hot dogs for dinner tonight to celebrate. I know it’s your favorite.