There is always something.
We had a trivia night this past Saturday and there was a couple of moments when I realized I was one of the 3 people who sit in front (two emcees, and then me. I write the questions and answers and run a power point of slides with the Q&A) and that we were doomed.
We weren't doomed. But we started 20 minutes late due to something that I am sure will be tagged and remembered as "technical difficulties" but in reality was "somebody dropped the ball." And even though I didn't drop the ball, and no one sitting next to me did, it would still be viewed as our responsibility. In the end everything was fine. But it was another one of those Ramona moments that makes me wonder what it is about me.
There was a big part of me that wanted to crawl all over the person who dropped the ball. To call this person out at a strategic planning meeting. To Rage. But there was a bigger part that said no.
Now, I'm not afraid of confrontation and this person will know how he dropped the ball and how it could have been averted and how stressful he made this event (as opposed to last year when we did it all as volunteers and didn't have help from a staff member). We're having a post-mortum meeting tomorrow and I'll be vocal there, to him. But that will be it. I cannot continue to be That Girl. I need to let the organization take care of itself and clean house if need be and keep in mind that my goals at school? They have nothing to do with this guy. Write trivia. Lead girl scouts. Teach art.
I need to take the long view. Billy hasn't started preschool yet. I need this school to continue to exist and thrive for at least 11 more years. I need to think about stability here. I am here for 11 more years as a parent. I am here for a long time. By the time Billy is in 8th grade, I will be (I think) the only parent left who has been there from the beginning, unless of course our current executive director is still in that position. But I will be the institutional memory for this place. I will have spent 16 years involved in this place. I need to stop sprinting. And I definitely need to stop taking aim. Some things will take care of themselves. The ones that won't will still be there to handle later. Write trivia, lead girl scouts, teach art.
Go to speech therapy. Teach Fiona how to spell. Clean house. Handle pets and cars and a 106 year old house. Drink coffee. Cross fingers. Go to the dentist. Maintain relationships. Maybe read a book or two. Knit and sew and cook and camp and chat. It will always be something.