Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Stockholm Syndrome, Mommy-style

I'm so excited to be running Ragnar SoCal this weekend! It's a 2-van, 12-person relay over 200 miles long. It goes for 24-30 hours straight, which means I'll be running in the middle of the night. Everyone runs three legs, and I'll be Runner #1 (of 12). My three relay legs will be roughly 5, 10, then 5 miles. I'm doing it with a group of friends with whom I don't mind in the slightest being stinky, including my husband. I have had all kinds of aches and pains this past year, and right now I feel like 90% injury-free, which I'll take. I'm ready to go! The only stresser, of course, is leaving my kids...

I have my 5-page typewritten document, listing out everything that will happen and when, including all emergency contacts (is Mayor Bloomberg's cell too much?) and meal plans. Playdates. Scheduled events. Entertainment ideas. We are ready to GO! And I love the girl watching the kids, I totally trust her and I know that kids will be well. But that thing that makes my heart beat faster is that my 11, 9 or 6 year old, one of them, might want me. Might need me. And I won't be there. I'll just be off, being selfish, probably kissing Daddy 'marriage-kiss' style (that Daisy's obsessed with- but that's another post entirely), laughing, peeing alone, drinking more than one Diet Coke. And one of them will want me and I won't be there... Or what if they can't find that one thing they're looking for? That particular sock, toy, book for school? And like everything in the apartment, only in asking me (while peeing) and making me go myself will it be found? (not in it's place though, nor in the last place you used it)...

Maybe this anxiety comes from the inevitable- the worst-case scenario of all, coming on the horizon but I hope not too quickly: What if I'm gone, running and playing, selfish and kissy-like, and they actually don't want me at all? What if they realize, "Hey! this is a party, and our mom is cramping our style! Life is so much fun without her!" I can be fun, you know. Behind the baths and piano practice, math drills and vegetables, I'm a circus. And everybody wants the circus. right?

It's coming, though, that sentiment. And as I polish off the sixth page of instructions, it's with the hope that somehow all this prep will prevent it from coming anytime too soon. Circus.

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