Winding Down

Sorry, it looked as though I had disappeared from the face of the earth. But the end of school seems to kick everything into overdrive. I don't remember the end of the school year being like this when I was a kid. It's like Christmas around here. We have a constant stream of events at the school which all require participation. Last week I attended two end of the year plays and a school fair. I baked and cooked for two major functions. I attended one team party. Started organizing another. On top of this are the other activities beyond. Baseball has been all consuming this year and it came to an end on Saturday.

My daughter's team played a 3 1/2 hour game. It went to 8 innings. In normal game play, the drop dead time is 2 hours, no matter what the score, but because this was tournament, it could not end in a tie. So we played until the tie was broken. It was exhausting, particularly for the kids. Anyway, it was a disappointing loss, but part of me can't help being relieved. Now I'm working on the team party which is a whole other job.

I wonder why I do this and how I got into this position. I certainly didn't plan it. My life's blueprint did not involve this level of immersion into kid activities. And now I find it is pretty much what I do, it is the center of my life. Of course writing has taken a backseat, I haven't written anything in at least a week, probably longer. Do my children appreciate it? Of course not, kids aren't wired that way. They believe they deserve it. Do I enjoy it? Yeah, I suppose. My nature is to be reclusive and anti-social, but being involved forces me to interact with others.

There are times I'd really like to chuck it. I'd like to spend my time writing and not get involved. But I'm also aware of how difficult it is to get published, how easy it is to get sucked into the emotional roller coaster of rejection and triumph which is a writing career. It can become too important. In thirty years' time, no one is going to remember my writing. But I do think my kids will look back in thirty years and remember how much it meant to them to have me there.

Of course, if they end up being a bunch of axe murderers, I'm going to be all kinds of ticked.