By the time you sit down to read this in the comfort of your living room or living-quarters trailer, I will have made another one of countless dicey decisions that go with being a working mom.
My job doesn't hold a candle to my kids, but I do love my career and all the wonderful people I get to work with. I've learned to be a pretty clever juggler and agile tap-dancer in my quest to have it all, but there are times when that simply isn't possible.
I missed my boys' school Olympics the other day after they closed DFW due to a lightning and thunder storm. I was down in Decatur with the Cactus crew and Fast Back boys, and had a plan in place to get back late Thursday night, just in time to roll up my sleeves and orchestrate the Olympics as the lead fifth-grade mom.
The fifth-grade parents put on the annual extravaganza to raise money for our soon-to-be sixth graders' week of science camp next year. When I finally got to Phoenix in the middle of the night, and realized I'd missed the last flight to San Luis Obispo, I was sad and mad all at the same time.
Nothing is more important to me than my kids and sharing this ride with them.Lane and Taylor look forward to my Reno and Salinas trips every year. Those rodeos are in driving range, and the boys are on summer break, so they always jump in and go with me. Last year, Lane had to stay behind with Uncle Wade because of an All-Star baseball conflict. This year, it's Taylor's turn. His first-ever All-Star game is the day of the BFI. Translation: I'm going to miss it. (That's the bad news, the good news is our BFI coverage starts on page 14.)
Yes, I'll leave the video camera behind, so I can catch a few highlights upon my return. And I'll get all the blow-by-blow after the game via cell phone. But as happy as I'll be for the guys who win the BFI, my heart will be home at that game with my skinny little blondie. Lane and I are headed for the Reno hills in the morning. His All-Star tournament runs on top of Salinas.
The fifth-grade parents put on the annual extravaganza to raise money for our soon-to-be sixth graders' week of science camp next year. When I finally got to Phoenix in the middle of the night, and realized I'd missed the last flight to San Luis Obispo, I was sad and mad all at the same time. Nothing is more important to me than my kids and sharing this ride with them.
Lane and Taylor look forward to my Reno and Salinas trips every year. Those rodeos are in driving range, and the boys are on summer break, so they always jump in and go with me. Last year, Lane had to stay behind with Uncle Wade because of an All-Star baseball conflict. This year, it's Taylor's turn. His first-ever All-Star game is the day of the BFI. Translation: I'm going to miss it. (That's the bad news, the good news is our BFI coverage starts on page 14.)
Yes, I'll leave the video camera behind, so I can catch a few highlights upon my return. And I'll get all the blow-by-blow after the game via cell phone. But as happy as I'll be for the guys who win the BFI, my heart will be home at that game with my skinny little blondie. Lane and I are headed for the Reno hills in the morning. His All-Star tournament runs on top of Salinas.
My most current dilemma involves determining my whereabouts on August 14th. That's the day a whole herd of my friends will be inducted into the ProRodeo Hall of Fame in Colorado Springs. I always make the journey back to my old PRCA stomping grounds when a special friend heads into the Hall, be it Ty Murray, Joe Beaver, Tuff Hedeman or Jake and Clay, and this year is a slam-dunk in that department.
