Failing as a mother, and other pride-filled moments
I pride myself on being a good grandma, a good mama. Sometimes I fail miserably though. Like I did yesterday.
As most of you know, my daughter Megan had Baby Mac in June. And as some of you might know, since having Baby Mac, Megan has made running her thing, her time for herself, her time devoted to being Megan not just Mommy. And devoted she is, running 5Ks and 10Ks and "fun" runs for practice most days of the week. She's become quite the long-distance runner despite being a sprinter—and a reluctant one at that—during her high school years. She sets goals; she accomplishes them.
Yesterday featured a big goal, one Megan hoped to accomplish with aplomb: her first half marathon. That's 13.1 miles for those non-runners (like me) in the group. She's been training for it since right after having Baby Mac, and nothing was going to deter her. Except maybe that Preston, her hubby and daddy to the boys, was scheduled for a business trip that would take him away the day of the half marathon. Which meant there'd be no one to cheer her on with her babies in tow (yes, the babies should to be in tow, to see the importance of Mom setting goals and accomplishing them). And no one to take photos of her crossing the finish line.
So she asked me and Jim—Mom and Dad—if we'd cover the support shift. Which, of course, we were happy to do. Not only would it be a chance to see our grandbabies, it would allow us to cheer on one of our daughters in her athletic pursuits, something we've missed since our nest emptied out.
We arrived in the desert, prepared for duty. The plan involved Preston driving Megan to the Women's Running Magazine Women's Half Marathon starting point before hopping the plane for his business trip. Then Jim and I were to pack up Bubby and Baby Mac and arrive near the finish line of the marathon pert near the time Megan figured she'd be crossing. Other than getting us there, my primary job (in addition to caring for the grandkiddos, of course) was to take pictures of Megan meeting her goal.
I failed. On both counts.
Despite setting out as planned, with detailed directions and maps for a city we'd never visited, we got within blocks—"Special Event" flags marked the area, so there's no questions of that—yet couldn't get to the exact area we wanted. Because of the special event, because of all the roads closed for that very same special event. Because not a single direction for spectators was given on the official website and because Google Maps didn't note the very roads we needed, the very roads we were instructed to take would be closed. There was no way to get were we wanted to be. At least not by the time we needed to be there.
AS we drove around the special event area, we lucked upon a spot where other folks were cheering on their running mothers and daughters and sisters and friends. We hopped out. We ran into place. And, heavens-be-shining-down-on-me, Megan was coming around the corner. She was smiling, Bubby was waving, Jim was shouting GO, MEG! and I was scrambling for my camera...and in all the excitement I couldn't get it on and get it focused, get it shooting as it should. At least not while she was in front of me. This is what I managed:
Then Jim and I were off and running ourselves, with the kids, trying to figure out how the heck to get to that freakin' finish line before Megan did. Not knowing the city at all, not having uninterrupted service on my iPhone that would provide me a map and direction and GPS or something of use, I asked another spectator for assistance. He told me how to head in the general direction, "but I don't know how you're going to get there with the way they have the roads all jacked up," he said. "Just get as close as possible then walk as fast as you can," was his only suggestion.
Thing is, that "general direction" he gave was off by about 15 blocks. Or maybe my interpretation was off by about 15 blocks. And in those 15 blocks, the tension in the car rose. Baby Mac was hungry, Jim was frustrated at my (usually stellar) navigation skills, and Bubby was asking from the back seat, "Why are you so mad?" The "you" meaning me and Jim, as we were bickering and not being our best Gramma and PawDad selves by any means. But gee freakin' whiz...we couldn't get to our daughter who would soon be wrapping up an incredible feat and it appeared we weren't going to be there as promised.
And we weren't. Just as we got as close as we could possibly get, the point from which we'd have to quickly pop open the stroller, throw the two boys into it and make our way across a seemingly endless obstacle course, heading for the very same finish line as Megan—where Megan would be—my cell phone rang.
It was Megan.
She'd crossed the finish line.
And wondered where we were.
Oh, the humanity, er, humility...of having to tell my daughter I'd failed. I'd failed to get us there on time, I'd failed to get photos of her accomplishing her goal, I'd even failed to get one front-facing photo of her at the one single moment the gods did allow us to see our pink-clad racer girl despite our missteps.
No big deal, Megan assured us, just get here. Call when you get to the finish line, she said.
With my tail between my legs I got us there. And I got a few photos of Half-Marathon Megan with her medal:
... and of Half-Marathon Megan with her babies:
I failed at my task. Megan didn't. At all. She finished her very first half marathon in a respectable 1 hour 54 minutes and 52 seconds. An amazing feat any time, but especially impressive just six months after having a child.
Oh, and that 1 hour 54 minutes? Exactly the time (well, minus the 52 seconds) I guessed the night before, when Preston, Jim and I all put in our guesses for what Megan's final time would be. While I'm not so proud of my mom fail when it came to getting us to the finish line for photos, I am, in a very small way, proud of my accurate guess on Megan's time. (I gotta take my successes any where I can find them.)
In all seriousness, though, and in a very large way, I'm proud of Megan—my marathon-running mommy/daughter—and all she's done to get where she's at.
(Disclosure: All guilt mentioned above was purely self-inflicted; Megan never took me to task nor seemed even slightly disappointed at my failure to come through as promised. Yet another reason I'm proud of her.)
Today's question:
Describe a recent fail on your part...and/or a recent moment that filled you with pride?
Monday, November 7, 2011
Reader Comments (10)
That was a lovely post and Megan is amazing to do run a half marathon 6mth after having a baby,
I felt your pain trying to get to the finish line as a similar thing happened to us a few months ago. My daughter was running in her first 10k and we drove down to where we though we would see her running and yes we got a quick glimpse of her as she ran by. We then got back in the car to go to finish line and take photos and exactly like you all roads were closed and we couldn't get anywhere near it so had to make do with phoning her to say well done. Luckily the local newspaper was there and I got photos. I don't think you failed, you tried your very best to get there and at the end of the day that's all we can do.
Way to go Megan! That is quite an accomplishment. I could definitely feel your frustration of doing everything you could to get to the finish line and just not quite making it. It always works out in the end, but the getting there can really be hard, especially when roads are blocked. Love the pictures of Megan with the boys, she looks joyful and not at all disappointed! Good Job Mom!
There are so many successes and photo ops and future opportunities that you you shouldn't beat yourself up over it. Mom looks glorious basking in her acheivement with her boys that you should just celebrate that.
Wow! I can imagine your pride in Megan's accomplishment...way to go, Megan! In regards to the self-inflicted Mom guilt...think you're going to have to chalk this up as one of those "if this is one of my worst Mom crimes, my kids are sooooo lucky to have me!"
While attending a baby shower last week with my daughters, I discovered an abysmal fail as a Mom. We played a 'fill in the nursery rhyme' game and as I was zipping along filling in answers... my daughters sat there completely clueless. What the heck? How could they not know nursery rhymes??!! What kind of a mother raised them??!! How could they not know Baa Baa Black Sheep and the Farmer in the Dell?! My daughters are Mother and Godmother to my Grandchildren, so who is going to teach my Grandkids Little Jack Horner?
Determined to right the wrong I inflicted on my girls decades ago, I ran out last week and purchased a large book of nursery rhymes and a large book of fairy tales now in residence at my home. I will take full responsibility for teaching my Grandkids every darn nursery rhyme there is...and some fairy tales along the way. I love do-overs as a Grandmother!! My conscience was quelled.
Until yesterday...while I was sitting in church during my Grandson's Baptism...as some kind of cosmic joke...the deacon mentioned parents teaching their children nursery rhymes. No, I am not kidding you and did this really have to come up during my Grandson's Baptism?! The self-inflicted guilt washed over me again as I thought about my nursery rhyme Mom fail.
I've decided to get over it though, since I also sat in church yesterday looking at my two daughters who are intelligent, capable, determined, honest, funny, and loving women despite their inability to recite Hickory Dickory Dock. Yes, I am so proud of my daughters. My Grandchildren are very, very lucky to have them as Mother and Godmother.
And I figure if one of my worst crimes as a Mom is my failure to teach nursery rhymes...my kids are soooo lucky to have me!
Oh Lisa, that was a good story. I'm sorry you didn't reach the finish line in time, but no one could ever fault you for effort. And Megan? Wow. She looks amazing and What an Accomplishment! Way to go!
I won't even go into all my Mom and Grandmom fails. Too numerous to mention. I just keep trying. That's all you can do.
great story--I think you did a great job being the support team, you showed up! You took care of the kids! I think that's enough.
I think you did the best you could under the circumstances of blocked roads, lack of familiarity with the town's lay-out, etc. and that's all anyone can ask. I'm so "Geographically Challenged" that I'd never even have found Arizona.
I try not to look for any applause for anything I do and can, therefore, not kick myself over something I did less than perfectly. Megan appreciated the carload of cheerleaders, I'm sure, no matter where that car was when she made it across the finish line. She did good and so did you.
Congratulations to Megan! That was indeed a wonderful feat after giving birth just 6 months ago! Perhaps she will run in the NYC Marathon one year?!!
I don't think you were a failure, Lisa, by not being at the finish line. I'm sure so many roads were closed and traffic was diverted. It's good you and the boys had a chance to see her run past at one point to cheer her on.
Enjoy the rest of your visit!
Lisa,
This was a wonderful story. You did not fail at all. The pictures with Megan and the boys are great.
My most recent fail, as there are many was reporting as a substitute to the wrong school, just last week. All the little kids at the right school were waiting for a teacher who never showed. More of a nightmare really.
At least you made it to the right marathon.
PS, Nonnie Kelly made me laugh with her nursery rhyme story.
I feel your pain but must say you did not fail. In spite of all the obstacles and hinderences you made it to the spot each time. Perhaps not in the time you wanted but in the time you were meant to make it. We are always hardest on ourselves when it comes to what we think of as our failures concerning our children and grandchildren. I once thought I had failled miserabley concerning my daughter. She promptly told me that nothing I had ever done was a failure concerning her and her sisters and brother. I received a lesson in having self worth through her. To be proud of the job we did at the moment through our doubting eyes is always seen differently in another's eyes. I am just as sure your daughter is proud of you, for all that you went through to keep you from your making in time, to arrive just when you were needed the most.