Feels like 108 degrees. Actually 95. The sun is blaring. The humidity makes the air so thick you could choke on it. My daughter Mia and I are at her track meet. But not just any track meet, the Field Finals for the Little Green Classic.
I have written about the South Lincoln Track Club. (See blog post: "Jocks and Candy Bars") It is a fantastic organization that has been around Lincoln for generations, encouraging young people to fall in love with athletics. Great history. Great cause. Tonight was the Field Event finals for the year. Next week are the running events. Tonight was the first test for these young "ath-el-etes." A culmination of several months worth of training. The events consisted of TENNIS BALL THROW or the traditional LONG JUMP. Mia chose to compete in the LONG JUMP.
We got to the event. Water bottle filled with mostly ice. Mia's hair=appropriately cute. (How different, starting my parenting journey with two boys in sports. I had no idea how important having a "cute-yet fully functional hair style" was for sporting events.) I am pinning Mia's number to the back of her uniform, when I find out that Mia is competing in the 5-year old category.
"What?" I say, concerned. "She just turned 5 on Saturday!" I was imagining her competing against Amazonian kindergartners, hopped up on juice boxes and steroids. Mia is small for her age, so you can imagine my concern when I find out that my newly-turned 5-year old will be competing with children that have up to 362 more days experience in their 5-year old bodies than she does. They have spent a whole fifth of their lives acclimating themselves to the way that their bodies work. Mia just turned 5 this past weekend! I was questioning the unjustness of everything in my head, until the coach reminded me that Mia has been competing against these same kids all year. Silly Mommy.
I sit over by the long jump sand pit and wait for Mia's group to compete. They play round after round of Duck, Duck, Goose until it's their turn to jump. The little girls all line up to do their best. Because of the incredible heat index, the director of the organization makes the decision that this is a "one-jump only" contest. Usually, they give the kids a "best-out-of-two" option, but because it is oppressively hot, one jump is enough. The director advises the kids to "give it their all" and wishes them luck.
The girls (all with incredibly cute variations of incredibly cute hair) line up to jump. Mia is in the second heat. She is the second competitor to go. The first girl jumps five feet, five inches. Mia gets ready to run and jump, cheeks flushed, hair adorable (a little bit curlier in this heat), look of intensity on her face. She lands five feet, even. A few of the other girls jump, and they are not even close to the front runners, so I go over to congratulate my baby.
The group of girls waits and waits. The woman in charge of handing out the ribbons is obviously confused as to where the girls who jumped in that heat are sitting. "Over here!" I say loudly. She doesn't hear me. "Over HERE!" I say, trying to get her attention. This woman hands out ribbon, after ribbon, trying to match competitor's numbers with their appropriate standing. She starts handing out ribbons to the girls who competed after Mia, while Mia still hasn't gotten a ribbon.
"Hey, what about number 345?" I say with support from some of the other parents and a coach who was concerned about Mia not getting a ribbon.
"Uh,......here ya go." The lady says and thrusts Mia a green ribbon.
A green ribbon. Well what the heck does that mean? Did she earn that green ribbon? I was listening to the distance monitors and didn't think that Mia had won the green. I wasn't sure, but the lady who was handing out ribbons just handed her the green one, because that was what she had left in her hand.
At this point, I had a decision to make. I never want to be one of "Those Moms" who whine and complain all of the time about the unfair treatment that their child is getting. I want to have faith in my coaches, that they know what they are doing, and I will respect their positions. I think my kids will learn lessons from all of the adults around them, and I don't need to step in to be the "Mom on Wheels" and fix all of the problems.
But it felt like 108 degrees. Actually 95. The sun was blaring and the humidity was so thick you could choke on it. So I complained. A little. "Did Mia earn that green ribbon?" I asked a coach. He did some checking and in fact Mia was second in her heat and indeed earned a red ribbon.
I would not have cared if Mia did earn "just the green," but the point is that we should all be rewarded accordingly for our efforts. Mia would never have known that she didn't receive the honors that she should have received. A ribbon is a ribbon in our house. But when a person gives something their best, they should be rewarded for it. And not some slapped together, half-excused "gimme," but an honest-to-goodness real validation of achievement. In a world where vacuous celebrities seem to have it all, hard work should be valued. We should be able to earn our honors. And celebrate life's victories! Especially when you're competing against 5-year olds.
After the meet, Mia and I went to TCBY and relished in her achievment. Red ribbons and sprinkles on cotton candy frozen yogurt. Victory!
Congratulations to Mia!!! Sounds like a great accomplishment for Mia and Mom. She loved the yogurt I am sure. She deserved it and the red and the green ribbon both. I loved the story.
ReplyDeleteYou are a MOM on WHEELS with FLAMES on the HOOD, baby!! Mia is so fortunate! Red ribbons ROCK, and blues are around the corner!! Rock and roll on, Momma!!
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