For the Unprepared

What is wrong with me?

I'm sitting in my car writing this post on my phone after carefully diverting my tears with an eye-roll designed to distract. 

I just dropped Rylie, the eleven year old, off at Lamar for volleyball camp. I'm nervous. I'm kind of sad.  And I'm hot (from sitting in the car). 

It's not like I'm going to miss her or anything. I'll pick her back up at noon. McDonald Gym (though it took me a little time to find) is only about ten minutes from the house. So why am I a mess? 

Maybe driving here this morning brought up thirty-year-old feelings from when my mom and dad took me to basketball camp at San Marcos for a week when I was about the same age. It was the first time I remember going to a place where I'd have no one I knew with me. 

My mom helped me to be ultra prepared though. Boy is she a packer. Whatever was on the things to bring list? My mom made sure I had it. Hygiene products? Check. Wash cloths, towels and bedding? Check. Snacks? Check. Check. Quarters for the vending machine. Had them. Plenty of clothes? Check. She even got me several new pair of the freshest Hawaiian style knee-length jams Walmart had the offer. 

Still, I remember being a little nervous. 

I'm a little nervous right now. 

After circling through wrong parking lots and going into the wrong building this morning Rylie and I finally found the right place. I could tell we were finally in the right spot because of the kids I saw getting out of a sweet looking Toyota Land Rover. 

At least six tall lanky girls stood in a parking space reminding me of everything I forgot we  probably should have brought to facilitate Volleyball Skills 101 success. These girls had the the right stuff, from high ponytails and cute headbands, to shirts and shorts that actually coordinated, to cinch backpacks that held who knows what. I think their water bottles might have been monogrammed. 

We forgot a water bottle.

 She is wearing deodorant. And clothes (They're  clean). That's about it. 

Inside was more of the same. Girls stood cheerily; their knee pads and confidence apparent. 

Rylie found a spot by the bleachers to stand and take it all in. I shot out of there. 

So here I am battling the mom thoughts. Is she prepared? How long will she stand by herself? Will they let her go to the water fountain? Does she know anything about volleyball? 

I have nothing smart to say. The heat is starting to melt my brain cells. I only know that I'm glad I'm not without recourse when the weird mom feelings take over. It's always good to be prepared, but even when you're not thank goodness there's prayer. 

Note to self: She'll be fine. Just bring a water bottle when you come back at noon. 

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