When You Don’t Want to Need Your Village

My son participated in a track meet in another city this winter. Track season is usually in the spring, but he conditioned all through the winter and participated in an indoor meet outside of what the public school typically offered. It was in a city about 45 minutes away and he said he’d just carpool with a friend. He told us it wasn’t a big deal, we didn’t need to come, he was just trying to stay in shape. After the meet, he showed me video of his race (he did great) and it felt like a gut punch. As I watched his tiny phone screen, I saw him running down the track and heard the unmistakable voice of a fellow parent yelling, “Go Josh!”

Such mixed feelings.

He wasn’t alone. Someone was cheering for him. He knew he had support in the stands. But it wasn’t me. It was another mom who loves him and has been at all his meets because her son is his constant competitor and close friend. She was able to be there in a moment when I couldn’t and could give him what I didn’t. I told my son how proud I was of him. I didn’t tell him how crushed I felt.

We all need a village. Especially those of us who are raising large families with a lot of different age ranges. It’s just not possible to be everywhere and do everything at once. Let me give you a window into the level of guilt I could be feeling today, if I wanted to just sink into a massive depression. My 2nd grader is on a field trip to the zoo that I couldn’t help chaperone. My third grader has her field day at the park that I’m also not attending. Two of my kids are out-of-town with my husband who has work obligations, so a family I love is watching them today and meeting all their needs during their first long trip away from home. My oldest son has a championship track meet I’m planning to attend, but that means I will be missing my middle school son’s track meet that’s happening at the exact same time across town. This is the same middle school son who had to skip his beloved jazz band practice before school today because I couldn’t figure out how to get him there with my sanity intact.

As I was expressing my frustrations with the logistics of today, two friends of mine just solved some of my track meet transportation problems. They offered support and rides and meals and childcare and this smooth coordination of all the details that freed me up to do what I could do for my kids. They are amazing humans and I wish I didn’t need them the way I do.

I did the math and it’s requiring the involvement of four families (plus me) just to be sure my kids have their basic needs met today by loving, safe adults. And that doesn’t even count the adult volunteers at school events and other parents cheering on my kids when I can’t be there. I’m relying on four additional families to do things like help provide my kids with transportation and meals today. To be fair, today is unusual. Most of the time I have it covered. But when it breaks down, I am incredibly thankful for my village.

But I also wish I didn’t need them. I want to be at all the meets. There is just about nothing in this world that gives me more joy than watching my kids do what they love and right now for my oldest sons, that’s running. I don’t want someone else to have to feed my kids meals and drive them places and make sure they’re safe. That’s my job and I actually love my job. It grieves me when I can’t do what it feels like I’m supposed to do.

A friend of mine went through breast cancer treatment a few years ago. I wanted to find a way to be a practical help to her, so I did her family’s laundry. My one request was that she not spend any time being thankful. I knew that given the options, she’d rather be doing the laundry and not going through chemo. She didn’t want me to be doing her laundry, so why should she be thankful? Of course she’s allowed to feel whatever mix of emotions about the whole thing and I imagine gratitude was in there somewhere, but sometimes the feelings about having an amazing village can be mixed.

I can feel thankful someone was cheering for my son and grief that it wasn’t me.

I can feel supported because someone is giving my kids a ride and guilty that I can’t be the one to meet all their needs.

I can feel incredibly blessed to have all these kids and drained by the logistics of their care.

I can love my friends and trust their parenting and also wish I didn’t need to depend on them.

I can feel like a success for finding solutions and a failure for running into these problems.

My hope is that I’m modeling for my kids that it’s not reasonable to try and do it all. I hope in all this they are building relationships with other trustworthy adults– something that’s actually beneficial for their development and something I should be prioritizing even if it wasn’t out of necessity. I hope they see me making the effort to show up where I can, imperfect though it may be.

When my son showed me the video on his phone of that winter race, I knew the mom’s voice I was hearing. And I remember when she talked to me at a cross country meet that fall as I thanked her for giving my son a ride earlier in the day. She told me she grew up in a big family. She told me she knew how tough it could be to organize all the logistics. She told me she hoped my son appreciated all the events we made the effort to be at because she knew what it took for us to get there. She gave me permission to rely on the village and also a glimpse of what my kids might be like as parents someday. Maybe they’ll be able to offer grace and help because they’ll have a very specific, knowledgeable kind of empathy.

So I’m going to go cheer for my son, with a toddler on each hip. I’m going to do my best to be present in the moment and not focus on how guilty I feel for all the things I couldn’t do today. I want to enjoy these kids and the gifts of my village make it possible. I am absolutely blessed to have them, even when I wish I didn’t need them.


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