Countdown to the End

Tomorrow is the last day of April.  Next month is the last month of school and graduation.  It does not seem possible it's finally arrived, even though it seems like the day before yesterday when she headed off to kindergarten.


With the end of the year comes end of the year activities.  Prom was last Saturday, and was a lot of fun for the whole family.  Terry borrowed a '69 Cadillac Convertible that was perfect for the tie dyed clothes they made to wear for prom.  Older sisters Charlotte and Sandy showed up with their families at my mom's for pictures, and it was a genuinely happy time.  The car and the flowers and the clothes and the family all combined to be a memorable experience that appealed to all ages, surprisingly enough.  


I'm making Molly's announcements, and working on them makes it seem more real as well.  There is Senior Recognition next week, and the senior soccer game the week after that.  The third, and final week brings the soccer banquet and graduation.  If I blink it will all be over.  


I suppose with what's going on with her dad right now I've been a bit distracted with how quickly this is crashing in on us.  I can't do much about his situation right now, as we're in wait and see mode, so I think I should focus on her for a while now.  It's always good to focus on the positives and the good stuff, and seeing Molly successfully through 13 years of school and the beginning of her college years seems worth celebrating.  


She's been chomping at the bit for most of the year for it to be over, and she's about to get her wish.  Even though it's been a while for me now since I graduated from high school, I can still remember the excitement and the impatience to get it over and finished.  It is no less for her.


So, for the next three weeks I'll take lots of pictures and do all I can to create lasting memories.  My baby is no longer a baby, and is ready to achieve one of the first rites of passage in graduating from high school.  Can we just slow it down a little bit?  Just a bit....? 

What It Means To be the Youngest

For the fourth time in ten years, I had to have a serious conversation with Molly about the health of her dad. As the youngest of Terry's three daughters, she's borne the brunt of the changes that occurred since he had his heart attack. She was the only one left at home, barely eight, and in the second grade when that happened.

He had been in the hospital for about three days the first time she saw him then. I had one of the nurses count for me, and he had 25 wires, tubes, lines, and attachments to his body and various pieces of medical equipment. It was pretty overwhelming to me as an adult, and I tried to prepare her for what she would see. I told her that all of those lines had a role in getting her dad better so he could come home.

A few weeks after he returned home, I learned she was waking him up when she got home from school. My first inclination was to remind her that he needed his rest, but I began to think about what it was that prompted her to do that. It didn't take long to realize she was making sure he was okay. She didn't have to wonder if he was only sleeping if she woke him up. One afternoon, on the way home, I asked her what she would do if she tried to wake Daddy and he didn't wake up. She smiled at me and said she'd call me at the office. I asked her if she remembered that sometimes I was in meetings and hard to get in touch with, and, not that I EVER thought it would happen, but if Daddy didn't wake up she should call 911, and then my office. I tried to be as nonchalant as I could, but all the while I was trying to reassure her that she wouldn't have to ever do that, I was really hoping that neither of us ever had to call.

Four years later when he had a 46 day hospitalization, it began at our local hospital with them not being able to initially figure out the problem. He'd been getting increasingly sick and weak in the past week, with two ER visits and an office call to our doctor. By the time he was admitted to the hospital, he couldn't walk, and was fearful it was something neurological. When Molly and I got home from the hospital that first night, her bravado melted when I asked her how she was. I held her while she cried, worried about her dad, trying to reassure her he would be okay, not really knowing myself if he would be or not. When it was determined he was full blown septic due to a staph infection that had invaded his heart chamber, he had open heart surgery and a 46 day hospitalization. She was in the 6th grade by this time, and I did what I could to keep her world as stable as possible, while mine felt like it was spinning wildly out of control.

Flash forward six years, and once again I'm debating what I say to her and when. She's lived the past ten years with a different dad than her sisters had. Her dad, who never once used his physical condition as an excuse, and who tried to be involved and interested in her pursuits, had limitations. He tired easily, and riding in the car for very long was uncomfortable. He didn't always make it to away games or events. And when the retching and vomiting problems started more than five years ago, that meant no plans were final. They were dependent on his condition and whether I needed to be close by. She's lived with worry and concern for him every day for the past ten years, because she's the one who's witnessed and experienced it on a daily basis. She graduates from high school next month, and there was real fear on my part at one point that he wouldn't be here for that. That part has been a blessing. He has been here to witness her metamorphosis from child to young adult, with all that encompasses.

Now comes the news that he may have cancer metastasizing in multiple locations in his body. I really struggled with when to tell her. Do I wait until we know without a doubt what's going on? Do I not treat her like the adult she wants to be? No...she's a member of the family and lives in this house... she needs to know for her sake what's going on. And when I talked to her she confirmed that. She does want to know whatever we know when we know it.

In talking to her, she confides that her greatest fear is her dad won't be there to walk her down the aisle when that day comes....and I can't promise her he will. But I can promise her that despite whatever does come our way, it can never be an excuse for her to not live up to her potential in life. Her dad will not want her giving up or giving in if he's gone. He knows how special she is too, and wants her to have the life she can make for herself.

So while she's on the road to adulthood, she's still our baby. She's lived through more in her short time than many adults have, but it's helped shape her to be the person she is. She is empathetic and compassionate, and is committing to a life of helping people as a nurse. Whether her dad is here to see the rest of her life or not, he's helped lay the foundation for who she became as a person. Thankfully for her, and for all of us, he's been here for her and her sisters in that regard. They are old enough that he will always be with them in their hearts, when he's no longer here for them. Even Molly as the baby of the family will have strong and wonderful memories that will help her get through her life. Wish I could be sure she'd have more than memories, but with all he's been through already, I'm grateful for that much.

There Is No "I" in Team

The girls' soccer season is in full swing now, with three games already played. The last two games have been tough, both mentally and physically.

The wind is blowing in Kansas. That's what the wind does around here. But when you have 80 minutes of soccer played in it, you're continually battling the whole time you're out there, whether it's on the field or on the bench. The game last night was an away game, on a bus so overcrowded they couldn't take their book bags. They played state contenders from last year's season, and went into the game knowing it would be tough. The bus got back after 10:00 last night, so any girls who had homework not yet done still had to put time in before heading to bed.

Today was round two of windzilla, on their home field. Their first game of the season was a tie, the second game was a loss, and they really wanted to win at home. They didn't. They've already got one player with a torn ACL who is out for the season, and a goalie who was sick and unable to play.

When Molly got home she asked what I thought of the game. I finally had to ask what she wanted me to say, because I wasn't sure. She's feeling frustration that as a senior, there are underclassmen who are not taking things as seriously as she would like. She wants to win and wants the team to be successful, and knows for her and the other seniors, this is the last chance.

Molly is not a long time soccer player. Quite the opposite. Aside from playing when she was four and five, she didn't play until her junior year. Even though it was her first year of competitive play in soccer, she was awarded the leadership award last year. I think she's trying to figure out what she needs to do to get certain girls motivated and playing to the level of their potential.

Leadership is a difficult ship to navigate. While we hope we function as role models for the behavior we'd like to see in others, the reality is that sometimes the subtlety of leading by example is too subtle. Sometimes you have to call behaviors for what they are.

Molly is taking 3 hours through the community college, playing soccer, and getting ready to start the rest of her life. She's taking the pressure of the demands in stride so far, but the journey is so much more enjoyable as part of a team when everyone is on the same page. When there are frustrations with one facet of your life, it's too easy to let those negatives overshadow the positives. Only three games into the season is too early to get frustrated.

I'm not sure she thinks she should take the lead in getting some of the girls jumping because she doesn't have the seniority of being on the team for many years. But Molly has more tact than she realizes, because too often she chooses not to employ that tact. The Irish in her is validated by her ability to cut to the heart of the matter in discussions at times, so if she can figure out what she wants to say, she'll do well. She just needs to figure out for herself what she wants to do and how she wants to do it. Then it's all good.....

As frustrating as team sports can be at times, it's a good life lesson for what's coming down her road. She will always have to depend on others in both her personal and professional lives. It's good to start learning early that you won't always agree with how someone else conducts herself. You just need to know how to work with them in a manner that is productive for all parties involved. And she is more than capable of making that happen. With girls...you go!!