Remember last week when I was all reflective, admitting that my routine had become a rut, and that rut had inadvertently taken over my life? And then, when I promised to attempt to interrupt said life 52 times this year?
Well hear me now people: Ask the universe, and that bitch will present you with options. STAT.
On Tuesday (for timeframe reference, I posted Sunday night), Liv's basketball coach texted the group and asked for a parent volunteer to coach practice that day since she was ill. Even being fully aware of my new-found promise to say yes, I waited for someone else to jump on that offer. I finished teaching my 1st period. I went to break. Made coffee. Started my next class.
And then, someone did respond. And man, the universe can be a real asshole.
Hi Coach, I can help. I'll just have my toddler with me.
Suuuuure, I'll let a motivated, amazing mom who's coming from work with her 3-year-old totally take charge of eleven, 5th and 6th grade girls. That sounds like a totally okay thing to do so I can go home and finish watching Stranger Things with my husband, pretending I was okay with it...or not.
Fuck you, reflection. I miss my rut.
And so it were. On the second day of my goddamned promise, I interrupted my week. And let's be clear: running a practice for eleven, 5 & 6th grade girls from 630-8 o'clock at night is not a simple interruption. It's a nuclear detonation; a comet hitting earth; a tsunami. Also, it was really fun.
Don't go crazy: it's not like I'm now an actual coach. And I won't pretend I wasn't beyond relieved when Coach didn't ask again for Thursday's practice, but Tuesday evening, with my friend Tar-Tar, I got to race my daughter and her friends in defensive slides, remind them to cheer for each other, laugh my ass off when they scrimmaged and did absolutely NOTHING that we practiced, and give high fives as they were ousted from Bump, one by one.
Old Man River and I don't coach Liv's teams. We spend an inordinate amount of time together as a triangle (you know, same school district, same schedule, same everything...), so we try to give her opportunities to listen to other people, to deal with things on her own and not have us looking over her shoulder, but last Tuesday, I was grateful to be with her. To watch her with her friends, to see her laugh when she made it all the way to top four in bump (she's normally first person out), and to see that maybe she's not a competitive asshole like me and her dad, rather, she's a good teammate. A fun one. A hard working one who is really just glad to be there.
I know I was glad to be there, especially when I got my period during my PLC the other day, just because the universe needed to remind me that some interruptions will always blow (to say the very least). As for the start of this promised foray into chaos: it's not the worst to ignore meal prep or spend less time on the couch, to take my dog and husband for a hike while Liv went to a birthday party, spending two hours of my Sunday outside instead of stressing what needed to be done inside. Or to have a beer while making cookies directly after that hike, clean eating be damned. (Just kidding. The cookies are mostly clean, and I definitely got to that salad prep while they were baking. So, balance, ammiright?)
Here's to next week. Talk soon, loves.