I ran a race last weekend. I came in 38th. The girls weren’t overly impressed. But I was. I knew I could not have run any better or any faster.
For the most part, my kids did not inherit my competitive genes. This might largely be for the best. Just ask Michelle about a very infamous darts game from 2002. My desire to win got more than a little out of hand. It took a long time for me to learn to deal with those emotions in a better way.
Maybe the girls can beat me to that epiphany. Maybe they already have.
If you’re going to compete with anyone, compete with yourself, to be the best version of yourself. Compete over things you actually control. Focus on the stuff that’s up to you. Forget the rest.
A special edition Saturday as we started the day far from the couch and transfer station, but all together, in D.C., for my nephew’s bar mitzvah.
We were here 16 years ago to the day for my brother-in-law’s wedding and I’m happy to report the breakfast burritos in Vienna are still excellent recovery foods.
I think I earned a new Dad merit badge. Surviving in an enclosed space while all three girls prep hair, makeup, and dresses for a fancy event.
The girls were all smiles after the ceremony. It was everyone’s first time attending services. It was an interesting and moving experience.
It was also long. The girls now have a new appreciation for the efficiency of the Catholic mass. No more complaints about the length of Palm Sunday readings or their religious education requirements.
Then we had a break and shopped for mini-purses before we had to do the hair, makeup, dresses routine all over again. Cecilia assured me it wasn’t the same. It was totally different.
And then it was party time. With the new outfits.
There were lights, music, a stage, Bon Jovi. The morning services might have felt new but this felt familiar.
Ally had a standing job offer from the DJ and his hype team within 10 minutes of hitting the dance floor.
Any night that ends with family and a late night pizza truck can’t be too bad.