(Are you hitting the road this summer? Don't leave home without entering SoCal Mom's Summer Travel Getaway Contest...)
I just got back from dropping Megan off for her last day of school.
Boy, do I feel relieved.
For someone with an aversion to drama, I cannot seem to escape it. In previous years (when I was embroiled in all the politics of her elementary school PTA), this day meant getting a three-month break from petty arguments over fundraising and organizing and brouhahas other people made over how the teachers were teaching. (I was always very happy with my daughter's teachers, which I suppose makes me lucky. We just didn't perceive any problems for us there.)
I've managed to avoid all of that since she started middle school (mainly by steering as far away as possible from the PTA). The only school-related drama this year was our struggle with the homework load, which dissipated after I had my conference with Megan's teachers. Next year, I resolve to be more pro-active and will set up a teacher conference earlier in the semester.
But just as I'm feeling good about how easy a school year we had, I am finding it harder and harder to avoid craziness at Megan's gym.
I guess that makes sense: Running for a position on the gym's board was a stupid move. I don't know; I had this weird idea that by working on the inside, I could affect improvements to the problems I saw.
It hasn't worked out that way.
If anything, I now have too much information. I was much happier living in trusting ignorance. Plus, as a board member, I am now a target for any gym parent who wants to see conspiracies in how his/her child is being treated (and there are lots of gym parents who would rather blame gym politics for a child's poor score than objectively evaluate the child's performance).
The result is that I have limited my time watching my daughter at gym, because I do not want to be accosted by parents who are angry about coaches, safety, equipment, judging, the cleaning crew, the adults who come in at night for workouts, the food at the snack bar, other parents, other kids, uniforms, meets, etc., etc., etc.
But we live in an age when you can run, but you cannot hide -- especially if people have your email address. Over the weekend, I found myself in the center of yet another gym drama, thanks to a message that was sent to all the parents of Megan's team, asserting that the girls are not being protected well enough while they learn new tricks on the balance beam. I might also add that the parent who sent this email has been at the center of nearly every gym controversy that has sprung up over the last three years.
I replied to all that I, for one, was not unhappy and did not see any reason to be alarmed by the way the girls are being coached. But I am not an expert on gymnastics coaching, and in case there really was an issue that had to be explored (and this parent raised safety issues), I felt this should be on the record, so I cc'd the president of the Board.
That's when all hell broke loose.
The parent who started the email chain retorted back (to all - except the Board president) that I had no right to put what was essentially a private message onto the agenda of the gym's management. When I pointed out that as a board member, it was actually my duty to alert the board when a question has been raised about our kids' safety, I received a particularly nasty and accusatory email back, asking me if I wanted to take responsibility from any flack the child might receive from the head coach.
I was upset. I knew in my heart I had done the right thing, but I knew I had gone about it in a passive-aggressive way, which I'm afraid is how I learned to survive a childhood that was fraught with all kinds of unneccessary drama. I am not capable of being confrontational. But at least, I felt I'd done something right by being transparent. Which means that I ended up being confronted.
The whole thing made me angry, but since I don't do anger well, I internalized it until it formed a knot in my stomach. I wanted to throw up. Instead, I drove Megan to gym and (confident that the parent in question would not be there, because they always skip the Saturday trainings - yes, I am a coward) talked it out with a mom I knew would be sympathetic to me.
But the stomach ache did not dissipate until another parent sent an email to the group in support of my action, agreeing with what I'd said -- that as a member of the gym board, I was duty-bound to report the allegations... and pointing out that a group email to six people is NOT a private conversation. If you don't want something to get out, you don't send it by email...
Monday rolled around and I dropped Megan off at gym and skedaddled to the nearest Starbucks, because I did not want to run into the parent who had sent the email. (Coward, remember?) I need not have bothered, because they did not show up at all.
I returned to gym about 15 minutes before Megan's workout had ended. The girls were finishing up with conditioning exercises. Megan was doing handstands on the beam... and you can guess what happened...
...she lost her grip on her dismount and kicked her foot under the beam - really hard...
... and was injured. The pain was so bad that I suspected she'd broken her toe.
And I could not help but think of the email brouhaha about safety on the beam.
Of course, that email was not about routine dismounts that the girls have done for years. And, as far as possible gymnastics injuries go, a broken toe is NOTHING. Gymnastics can be a dangerous sport. Megan's friends have broken wrists, arms, feet... there have been back injuries, and hip displacements.
But guess what? Kids get hurt playing sports. Hell, I once broke my toe by bumping into a cabinet in my bedroom. This is our first injury after four years of competition -- I figured we were ahead of the game.
And, as it turned out, her toe wasn't broken- just badly bruised. So we are WAY ahead of the game.
Too bad I can't say the same about gym drama. Our June board meeting is tonight...
Right about the time my twins turned two I drove down to Atlanta to see my brother.
The night before we drove back Claudia started barfing. We knew it was going to be bad but what we didn't anticipate was TWO puking two year olds vomiting up entire cups of milk - IN THE CAR.
Both babies puked on and off for the entire 10 hour drive.
I will NEVER forget that one.
And Daisy, whose most memorable road trip is yet to come - she thinks:
I think we're creating that most memorable trip right now! We are in Nova Scotia, after driving three days and taking a 5 hour ferry ride. Husband is delving into his family tree - with great success, even finding new relatives! Teen and I are hanging out at the rental cottage, riding bikes, and reading books. Sound calm? Well, mostly, it is. I'll post more on it later...
You still have time to enter the contest (which ends on June 30). There will be two first prizes of... well, go to the post to see what you can win!