The Bad Day That Wasn't

Natalie decided a couple of weeks ago to run for Student Council VP (she was a class representative last year). For reasons I can't fully explain, this filled me with dread. Mostly because she was running against nine other fourth graders including two in our carpool AND a teacher's kid-and we all know how that usually plays out. There was much potential for hurt feelings. Not only has there been friction in my car every afternoon since then, but I also just didn't see how I could watch someone that I love so much want something so badly that I couldn't give her or guarantee (especially when you run against a teacher's kid). For the last two weeks, I've wished my kid wasn't so ambitious. I've wished she wasn't running against such a popular little girl. I've hated all the tension between three little girls who usually chatter happily all the way home after school, and I've had to fight the urge to just completely withdraw from the situation rather than encourage her with her speech and her campaign. I had no idea why I was acting like this, and then, I remembered...

Many years ago back when my days were dominated by Masonic Youth Order activities, there were elections too. There were local ones, but those never bothered me. For Rainbow Girls, state offices came by appointment only and I had never kissed up to the right leaders enough to expect anything good. (I did wind up serving as Grand Love which was fine by me.) But the DeMolay boys? They ran for stuff. It was all competitive and could get downright intense and I hate competitive and downight intense. I hate it when people I love throw themselves right in the midst of something like that because what-if-they-fail-and-I-can't-fix-it?! But that boy I loved back then? He was also competitive and downright intense. As I cringed and preferred to protect him, he threw himself into all that headfirst. Because he was successful both times at getting himself elected to the positions he wanted, I thought I had endured those campaigns quite bravely. (Time is funny that way.) So, I didn't understand why all I've wanted to do these last two weeks was hide every time she practiced her speech or she and her Dad worked on posters. Then, I was reminded rather brutally in an email last night that I have never endured these kind of things well and that I do tend to hide and take off just when I am needed the most.

OUCH!

I wasn't exactly grateful for this particular reminder for a few reasons. First, there are some things I would just rather not remember about my misspent youth (I believe that every woman has the right to re-invent herself). Second, I have been coming to terms with a lot of things in my life that have been disappointing, and reading yet another account what a cr@ppy girlfriend I once was seemed to rub salt into some already very sore wounds. (I know, we all 'reap what we sow,' but seriously-it's long past time for my turn to be over.) But the worst part of it was that this little 'happy gram' hit my Inbox just as I was getting ready to put my nervous and terrified little girl to bed. However, it seems that my coping skills have improved over time. Smarting with a refreshed memory of how very unhelpful I used to be in the face of this kind of anxiety, I was determined to do better. I did not hide out in my room and have her Dad deal with every thing, I put on a brave face, and I ignored my knotted stomach as much as possible. We picked out the perfect outfit, talked about the election's possible outcomes, and when we were through she felt good and calm and ready to go to sleep. And so did I, even though I really didn't think her chances were all that great. In the morning, I ironed her favorite shirt, made her brother go to school without shoes because he hadn't set them out the night before and didn't find them in a timely manner this morning, and we left with plenty of time to spare so she wouldn't be nervous about being late.

I stayed to watch her (and my other two little carpool girls) give her speech. She did an excellent job. I noticed that she didn't play the "my mom is the PTA President" card and that her teacher's daughter opponent took the same high road. As much as I wanted to dislike that other little girl (and her previous treatment of my daughter not to mention her behavior towards me from time to time gives me reason), all I saw today was just another nervous little girl in her best dress trying to reach a goal just like my own kid. In fact, I was surprised to find that I had love for all the brave kids up there giving their speeches even though I obviously wanted mine to win.

In the end, the teacher's kid won just as I suspected. But, to my great surprise, the world didn't end. Instead, I took three sad little girls to Classic 50's for slushes, and I got to watch the weight of the world lift off their shoulders as they sipped their drinks and tossed coins into the fountain. I even tossed a few myself. Despite all my fears and anxiety over the last two weeks, my daughter survived the loss, and so did I. Maybe once upon a time when I was 20, I did let a friend down and, in so doing, lost them forever. But at least I learned what not to do before it was my own daughter whose feelings hung in the balance. Despite my fears for her failure, I managed to be there for her before, during, and after; and she and her friends are feeling a lot better about life tonight because of me, some Happy Hour drinks, and the fact that I've got Hannah Montana songs and the Ella Enchanted soundtrack on my iPod. And we're all doing our best not to think about the class representative elections tomorrow...