I just told P that I had no idea what I was going to write about tonight and he said, “How is that different from every night?” I asked him why he wanted to be a hater and he told me “I’m not a hater, I’m a motivator.”
And then we laughed hysterically.
And now I’m sad that we have become those people.
Anyway, last week was kind of a crazy week. I can’t remember all the reasons why, but I think it had a lot to do with third grade elections. That’s right. Third grade elections.
Caroline came home with a note on Monday that explained each third grade class would be electing two senators and candidates for governor and lieutenant governor. She informed me that she was running for lieutenant governor. And, honestly, I was so proud of her. She never ceases to amaze me with the way she’ll just go for something.
That’s a quality, by the way, that she didn’t really inherit from her mother. I was always more from the school of “If I don’t try, then I can’t be rejected”.
So our week was full of campaign talk. She won the nomination for lieutenant governor in her class on Wednesday which meant that she would make a speech, along with the candidates from other classrooms, in front of the entire third grade on Friday morning.
On Thursday the class made campaign materials and posters for the hallway. My friend Debbi had suggested the slogan “If you CARE A LOT, vote for CAROLINE”, but Caroline ended up going with “Everything will be fine, if you vote for Caroline”.
Which we agreed was a subtle tribute to her Sicilian roots. As long as you vote for her, everything will be fine. If not, all bets are off. Things might go to hell in a hand basket in the third grade hallway.
And so the next couple of days were filled with updates on the campaign, the need for brighter poster board and more glitter, and reports of some political trash talk in the third grade hallways. Because apparently politics are dirty business even when you’re eight.
Then I picked her up Thursday afternoon and took her straight to the doctor because I could tell she didn’t feel good. She was crying and complaining of a sore throat. And she’d even gone to the school nurse who dismissed it as allergies. Which is the third time the school nurse has misdiagnosed my child for those of you keeping score at home.
Sure enough, it was strep. But the doctor said she could go in and give her speech Friday morning as long as she felt like it. And I knew there was NO WAY she wasn’t going to give that speech. So I drove her to school on Friday morning and she gave her speech even though she felt terrible. After all, it’s what Ronald Reagan would have done. WWRRD.
Later in the day we got a text from her teacher letting us know Caroline hadn’t won. And I dreaded telling her because what if this was the thing that would make her quit trying stuff? What if she lost that confidence that she can do anything? What if this marked a turning point where she’d become so fearful of rejection that she’d just stand on the sidelines while life passed her by?
What if she’s being raised by a neurotic mother who worries too much?
I broke the news to her gently and explained that you aren’t going to win every time. I pulled out the old “Abraham Lincoln ran for office ten times and lost before he was ever elected President”. I’m not even sure that’s true. Maybe he just lost once. Whatever. I was trying to have an IMPORTANT TEACHING MOMENT.
Then I brought it all home with, “Baby, the surest way to lose is to never try”. She looked at me and said, “Okay. Can we play Mario Kart now?”
And so we played Mario Kart for the next thirty minutes or so until she told me she wanted to take a break to practice playing the recorder. She proceeded to play several rounds of Hot Cross Buns while blood started to leak slowly from my ears.
Then she looked at me and said, “I am SO GOOD at this recorder”.
I think she’s going to be just fine.
And just because it makes me laugh, here’s a quick video of Caroline casting her ballot after she gave her speech to her class on Wednesday. Each candidate voted and then her teacher asked them how they felt. Most kids just said a simple “I feel fine”.
No one will ever accuse her of being quiet and shy.