I may not verbalize it as much as I should, but I definitely think it.
Last week we had our normal week with our regular goings on...work, school, cheer, ballet, church meetings, etc. One addition was Becca's cheer clinic for tryouts for next year.
Her Senior year.
Of course, this addition to the schedule doesn't really affect me too much since she drives herself, but when something new is happening, the dynamic changes.
It's a bit more electric with excitement.
For 4 days she prepared for what she'd been doing the past 4 years. Learn the cheer. Learn the dance. Be sharp. Figure our your jump sequence. Perfect your jumps. Perfect your entrance. Perfect the cheer. Perfect the dance. On the 5th day, Tryout.
I ended my week thinking this past weekend was going to be one of celebration.
And in a way I guess it still was, simply because of the type of person my daughter is. But after cheering for school since 8th grade, Becca didn't make the team for next year.
Her Senior year.
I was heartbroken.
Not for me, but because I figured she was going to be sad. It's one of those moments as a parent where nothing you could have done would've made the results be any different.
It was what it was.
The only option for her as an incoming Senior was Varsity & the scores just weren't there.
Becca took the news like a champ. She wasn't upset. At all. (or at least that she expressed) She had been on the fence about trying out anyway, but in the end,
decided to take the plunge. She's excited to get a job, make some money, be in the stands for the football games & enjoy her Senior year to the fullest.
So now I delete the upcoming cheer to-do's from my calendar. I give ourselves "a raise" for the cheer money that won't be spent.
And I thank God for the wonderful gifts that come in the form of a 17 year old girl.
|The night she found out she made 8th grade cheer!|