Here's how it went down. We arrive just as they are starting the first game. Isaiah excitedly joins in only to be tagged out almost immediately. He bursts into tears and runs back to me. For nearly the remainder of the party he sits with me watching the children play (a multitude of soccer games). I try to convince him to join again. The birthday boy's mom encourages him to rejoin. Even the housekeeper (nanny?!) tries to convince him. All to no avail. Plus with each encouragement he starts to cry again! At one point I got him to go down on the "field"....kind of. He sat in the corner furthest away from everyone and closest to the exit! And yet when I told him we should just leave he was adamant that we stay...despite appearing absolutely miserable!
It was 90 minutes of torture for both of us. And I truly didn't know how to handle the situation. Is forcing him to participate the right thing? Or do I allow him to sit it out? Do we stay or do we leave?!? It all started because he was frustrated that he lost. Losing is a part of life. And learning to handle being the loser is an important part of growing up. But should that lesson be learned in a stranger's backyard with all your future classmates as the audience?!? I still don't know.
What I do know is that I was terribly embarrassed by his poor sportsmanship. And then I was ashamed that I was embarrassed of my own child. At the same time my heart just broke for him. I wanted to pick him up, hug him and shield him from his pain. I wanted to cry with him. But I didn't. Instead I tried really hard to convince him to rejoin the group. I did what I thought was best in that moment despite feeling completely clueless.
An instruction manual would have been nice.
Then last night as I was explaining the party situation to my husband we were interrupted by a screeching baby and hungry kids. I got frustrated and gave up trying to explain it to him. Which got me thinking "doesn't matter if he knows or not anyways because he isn't the one doing the parenting. The one (maybe two) hours a day he sees the kids isn't exactly parenting." Pity party. I know. But my mind went there. And quite frankly, lately it has been there more than I care to admit.
Lately I have been wishing away this rotation. His first rotation. The six days a week with long ever changing/increasing hours is wearing me out. Plus this rotation is 8 weeks long. 8! Weeks! Which has felt like an eternity. But the rational side of me knows I shouldn't wish it away because he has a surgery rotation next. And I know (from experience) that surgeons' hours are worse. Much worse. So really I should be enjoying these 8 weeks and wishing the next 8 weeks stay far far away!
And then thinking about rotations gets me thinking about the next 5 years of rotations we have ahead of us. And if I can't survive this very first rotation, how will I ever survive the next 60+ rotations?!? From what I hear the rotations during medical school are a cake walk compared to residency. So if I am already having a pity party...this is going south fast!
So there it is. My big ole pity party all because my son wouldn't play soccer at a birthday party. Dramatic much? Who me? Never!