XC

Tomorrow is Anna's last day of first grade.  A very, very different scene from Anna's end of school last year.  Anna and I might both cry and plead to let her stay with Mrs. M.

Tomorrow is Molly's last day of middle school.  Usually, I put from my mind the fact that my child is another grade older until the first day of school.  They sort of remain in a warp world all summer, as far as what grade they belong to, in my mind.  This summer, I do not have this option with Molly.  Molly is already a high school cross country athlete.

The season began Monday.  I looked at the big packet she brought home with all of the summer training requirements and I almost fainted.  What about that break we were supposed to get from extra-curricular activities this summer?! And what's this about mandatory practices the last two full weeks before school starts where the girls were supposed to go see their grandparents?!

I was very skeptical.

Jeff and I went to the parent meeting the next night and listened to over an hour of the coach's training philosophies and methods and the kind of nutrition and rest the kids would get and how much volunteering needs to happen from the parents and how much running the kids are going to be doing.  And how much time they will devote to this.

Then we came home and had a talk with Moll about how serious this commitment is.  She assured us that she wants to make the commitment, and understands everything she will be giving up to do this.  She is incurring guilt from grandparents, less hang-out time with friends, and the loss of any body fat she might possibly have managed to pick up as she entered adolescence (which I think was next to none anyway).  

Jeff and I are taking on stuff that we don't necessarily want.  Guilt from parents, loss of a possible weekend away, loss of time with our daughter and for ourselves (ok, so we didn't actually have any of that left and are borrowing against other time commitments...), loss of more money, and lots more whining from little sister who has to be dragged to more long, outdoor sporting events.  Unfortunately, we probably will not get rid of any body fat.

But this is what parents do. And really, we are happy to do it.  (For the record, only because it's for a running sport in my case and not, say, marching band. Because I would not be so happy to devote so many resources to marching band).  I am proud of Molly.  I know she will commit.  I know she will be a better person for it.  She will gain valuable experience as a team member, learn lessons about pushing through pain and wanting to give up, figure out how to balance a lot of responsibility, and get in incredible shape. I told her coach her last 5K time and he said, "That's a good place for a freshman to start - I'll have her under 23 by the end of the season."  I wondered if I might have been able to pass for 14 and sign up for the team myself.  Sub-23 in the 35-40F age group?!  Oops, the Mom hat fell off for a minute...

We will shuffle our schedules. Stand in freezing cold rain.  Shell out money for shoes and trips.  Ice sore skinny shins.  Buy gallons of chocolate milk.  Volunteer for the team brunch and team banquet and at meets.  Put up with 11th hour hysteria over just-remembered homework.

We will cheer our heads off.  Bring new kids into our vehicles and house and hearts.  Burst with pride in our little girl who is turning into a pretty incredible young lady.

But will we sport one of those obnoxious bumper stickers announcing our XC Wildcat?