Sometimes being a single parent means accepting that I am imperfect, that the ability to teleport doesn’t exist and that it has to be okay that I cannot do everything.
I received a loud and clear reminder of that last week. It was impossible to mistake.
My son’s final middle school track meet of the season started just before my daughter’s ballet class. I had to drop her off, and make sure she was settled, before I could go to the meet.
That’s how I missed his first two events, both held early in the meet.
When I got to the stadium, I met him on the bleachers and we shared a snack. Quietly, I kept my fingers crossed his third event would start before I had to leave to pick my daughter up. When they called the girls’ heats, I thought maybe — just maybe — I could see him run before I left. Click here to continue reading.
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