My daughter. Super cool kid. This morning, we all got up at 6am (yup, it's Sunday) to hightail it up to the Bronx for a Cross Country meet. Seriously.
It was her idea. She was EXCITED!
I was so proud of her. I popped the Advil, 'cuz mornings suck with an expander in your chest. But, I wouldn't have missed this for anything.
It was a really magical experience. I saw her leave us with her team mates, and they soon got lost in a sea of middle school girls in running gear. Her number pinned on her fleece, her gloves still on her little hands. She looked nervous and excited. Later, she reported that yes, she was scared. But this was her idea - and she went for it. We watched the crowd of tween girls disappear in the woods in Van Cortland Park, chatted with the volunteer parent who was overseeing the team since the coach couldn't make it. I saw some of the leaders start to break through, one from our team! A powerful and determined runner. It was so interesting watching faces and body language near the finish. Some gave up, some were apathetic, and some were warriors.
It was a mile and a half. She did it in 20 minutes. I saw her on the home-stretch and started filming. She was walking, complaining about her feet hurting. I told her to run! There's the finish line! And I promised her a foot massage if she ran the rest of the way. Now, I owe her a foot massage. :)
Her face at first glance was apathetic. But I watched her transform into my little warrior. And I cried. I actually cried when I was waiting to see her, because I was so excited to see if she was owning her decision to run this race. I am sappy and hormonal and post-surgery. I ran alongside her, filming, even though I'm technically not allowed to run. Oops. But I think my jellyfish is just fine. I didn't go far.
At our celebratory dinner of grass fed steak (her favorite) and sauteed mushrooms (she makes the best!), I told her that when I get the ok, I'll start running again with her. I haven't for many years. I basically ran a lot, eliminated the cartilage in my left knee, and was told to stop running or have my knee surgically altered. But, cartilage grows back over time. And that happened before she was ever a little bean in my belly.
Her dad was supposed to pick her up tonight. At 8. 8:15 rolled around, and texts were unanswered, phones were also not picked up. She finally called grandma to see if he was there, and no, he wasn't. Grandma said he was out to dinner with someone. I got a text from him soon after - apparently grandma called as well, and he texted that he thought she was staying here. Now, each week we painstakingly type out a schedule, email it to him, and ask him to confirm. All of this was done, and clearly stated was that he was picking her up at 8pm on Sunday night.
She was so hurt. She was so angry, and I was glad to see her express that. And I told her, she has the power to talk to him about this. She is the only one. He came to pick her up, avoided me as usual, and told her to get on her coat - and where was her backpack etc... I looked at her and told her to TALK to her father, as she was ignoring him. I hope she is brave enough to tell him the truth. He has forgotten her in the past - at school, here, and it hurts her so deeply. I have run from work, rehearsals, just to make sure that she is ok, trying to find other arrangements if I can't stay with her at that moment, trying to make sure that her feelings aren't too hurt. Now? She's 11. She should tell him how angry she is. She is getting old enough to speak up and make decisions. If she wants to live with us full time I'd be thrilled, but I can't take her away from him unless that's what she wants. So, with a sad heart after such a beautiful day, I bolt the door and feel my heart aching for my little warrior. I hate him. I hate that he is her father, yet he is. And he doesn't seem to understand what an honor that is.
My husband does. He knows what an honor it is to be her stepfather. And he is more than I'd ever dreamed would be possible. But, she has her father too. As crappy as he is, as useless as he is, as thoughtless, there he is. I just hope that when she starts dating, she doesn't look for him in boys, or men. I hope she looks for what took me so long to figure out. That I deserve to be treated with respect, with love, and that I deserve a partner, unconditionally.
I mean, crap. We get married, and a month later find out I have cancer. And here we are, more in love than ever.
I know I'm lucky. I want her to be lucky too. I know she deserves that. She doesn't deserve a crappy dad. But, she is allowed to make choices in life - now, or down the road. I hope she chooses happiness, and I hope she doesn't wait as long as I did to figure it out.
I think I deserve a little sip of wine and maybe a sappy movie to get some more tears out. I deserve to let go of that crap - because I know how much I have that is good.
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