Mom, I didn't win today

My kids are amazing.  I'm a better person because somehow I was blessed to be their mom.  Sometimes these amazing kids drive me crazy and make we want to tear my hair out.  Sometimes my heart breaks for them, and they teach me lessons I never would have learned otherwise.  This is one of those heart break stories.

We've spent the last few weeks at our house attempting to adjust to our new schedules and gearing up for "birthday season."  The girls are taking dance and gymnastics classes. One class each, the same day at different times.  I currently have a demanding church job and was in the middle of planning a large activity.  My husband works for lawyers (nuf said).  And because I can't possibly tell anyone "no" I'm also the assistant coach for my youngest's soccer team.  During the middle of this chaos my oldest decided to run for 4th grade rep.  What fun I thought, now he has something to be involved with and won't be left out.  He made posters with Dad and I wrote a speech.  It was all about how he'll be a good representative because he's been a big brother his whole life, and can protect you from bullies and help everyone share and stuff.  It was pretty much genius.  The day of the speeches were given in class, Dad took the day of work and we rounded up the twins and off we went to support big brother. 

Up until this point I hadn't thought of what would happen that afternoon.  At our school there are only two 4th grade classes and there were five open 4th grade rep spots.  There couldn't be that many kids who'd want to run, and make 2 posters, and give a speech in front of the whole 4th grade.  From my point of view (the kid who sits in the very back of the class, never ever raises her hand, still tries to blend in at ever turn, and would die before giving a speech in front of the whole grade) only incredibly brave crazy people do stuff like that.  People like my 4th grader, who sticks up for a friend in the gym when the older kids are making fun of the friend's posters.  Who has never had a fear of giving a primary talk.  Who at every opportunity is saying "Look at me.  See what I can do."  When the kids started to file in and I noticed the really long row of chairs at the front of the room, I counted 20 kids.  20 of those crazy brave kids for only 5 spots.  Someone was going to have their heart broken, lots of someones. 

I managed to keep my cool during the speeches and cheer the oldest on.  He'd added friends to his speech to make it more like a skit, he spoke clearly, he stated his name multiple times.  He did all those things they taught me in debate (the class I took in high school to force myself to be more brave).  The speeches ended and we left.  We'd helped him make the best posters and give the best speech we could.  Now it was all up to the kids. 

Before school the next day I sat down with the oldest and had a 30 second chat about being okay if you didn't win.  Of coarse, I didn't really think it was all that necessary because he is awesome and everyone should know it right?  So the talk went sort of like this

Mom - You know there are lots of people running and only five spots right?
Kid - Yep
Mom  - You know somebody has to lose right?
Kid - Yep
Mom - Are you going to be okay if you don't win?
Kid - Yep

You know it was a really deep in depth conversation.  I tried not to be nervous for him all day.  The voting had already happened and there wasn't anything we could do about it now.  And they weren't telling the kids until the end of the day.  Luckily the end of this horrible no good very bad day was a Friday.  And my kids belong to the most awesome carpool ever.  So when my kid got in the car in tears because he wasn't picked, and the other kid got in the car excited because he had been, more concern was spent over my kids tears than the others win. 

That day he didn't bounce into the house like his usually does.  And burst into tears when I asked him what had happened.  He was sad because his posters weren't good enough, and his speech was mumbled, and he got stage fright, and if he had done better he would have won.  My heart broke for him as I tried to explain that it wasn't anything he'd done/not done.  Somebody had to not win, and today that was him.  It was okay to be sad, but not okay to think badly about himself.  He still doesn't want to talk about the losing, but he's way more okay that I would have been.  He talking about running next year too. 

This taught me is how resilient he is.  He can pick himself up, dust himself off, and rush right back into the fray.  I'm so proud of him.  He is the child most unlike me.  The one I struggle the most to know what to do with.  He has amazing strengths where I have weakness, and I know he teaches me every day to be a better person.  So on those bad days when I start losing hair, I hope I can look back on this and remember how lucky I am to be his mom.