I don't know what this post is about. The fear and hell that is sports' day? Me losing it? I'm not sure.
I haven't had a great week. The week before was bad too, because it was pms misery week. Money stress is wearing me down. I don't remember how long it's been since money wasn't an issue. Maybe not since before I left school.
Today was sports day. I've always hated sports day. I can remember holding on tight to the door handle, refusing to go to mine, torn between fear of my father and fear of sports day. I went. There's a photo of stocky little me, in the egg and spoon race, lagging far behind, face a picture of flushed concern and self consciousness and embarrassment.
Olivia does fine in the practices, but she seems to freeze up in the actual heats, stage fright, maybe. She came last in her race, and was well aware of it. She fluffed her bean bag throw and it went the shortest distance. She was in the three legged race with a little friend who is shorter than her, and not the fastest... they came last too.
But she won her heat of the egg and spoon race by miles, she did so well. A flawless performance. And she was so happy! So proud. I had to warn her it wasn't the final win, the final was to come. Yes, but I'm in the final of something! she said, smiling widely. That's all she wanted. First time she had been.
And in the final, it was close, but she passed everyone out, did so beautifully - got a little nervous at the end, looked back a bit... I thought she'd won, she was right there. she did too. But it seems she dropped her 'egg' two inches from the finish line, and her teacher sent her back to start from the start. Which she did, while everyone else finished, fighting tears. And then walked back, sobbing, red faced. And sat on the ground and cried.
She was so close. She thought she'd won, thought she'd got a medal for something after two years of coming nowhere. She didn't even get second place or anything.
I took her home, because I was starting to cry too, I couldn't stop it. I couldn't make her do a long distance run, and sit through the prize giving clapping for everyone else. I wouldn't have made it though, either. It was so awful. What do you say? What lesson did she learn?
Then at the car I opened the door for Bodhi, and he'd stood staight in front of it, so it smacked him in the forehead. So he wailed, and Olivia sat in the car and cried and I couldn't stop myself from crying. One of the other mothers came over because she heard him crying, and I couldn't stop, I sobbed. I never do that, normally I can't cry in front of other people at all. I've lost it completely, I spent all last week trying not to cry in front of the students I was supervising, and now I'm sobbing in car parks in front of parents I don't know very well.
As we got home, Olivia told me that her teacher had said that while you were meant to go to the start if you drop your egg lots of times, if she tells you it's ok to keep going, you can. She doesn't understand why she made her go back. Why did she take it away from me? she asked. I don't know. Is it because I caused too much trouble this year on Cassia's behalf? Was it revenge? I don't understand either.
Olivia's disappointed, but ok now. We went for ice cream. And I still can't get over her pain, and disappointment, and her plaintive misery. It's so horrible. I am not making her do it next year. And I'm not going to another sport's day without Xanax. And I think I'm going to the doctor soon to get something that stops me feeling anymore, because this is fucked. It's too debilitating now, and it's stopping me parenting properly. I give up, I give in. This is officially the day I can't cope any more, I think.