Two Saturdays ago we were at Yale watching Kasen swim his last high school meet.
It was the tail end of an exhausting 5-week stretch of championship meets, and I was thinking about one thing: getting home, taking my bra off, and parking my butt on the couch and doing absolutely nothing for the rest of the night.
During the meet Gretchen made plans to go bowling about 20 minutes away later that night with friends.
I told her she could go, but I wasn’t driving her there and I wasn’t picking her up.
I was cooked.
“Okay, but if we have an emergency you can pick us up, right?” she asked as she walked out the door.
“Yeah, sure,” I said.
She knew how tired I was. She wouldn’t do that to me.
At 8:48 I got a text.
Mom, I’m really sorry but can you come get us? We don’t have a ride anymore.
OMG.
I didn’t just have to pick up Gretchen, but I had to drive two of her friends home.
I was so mad.
Like SO MAD. And so tired and so frustrated, to the point of tears.
But it was my own fault.
This is an example of my failure to set a clear boundary.
Gretchen and her friends’ bowling plan was kind of a mess from the start. I had a feeling. I knew.
I should have told her I would not be her backup plan.
I should have told her I was too tired to do anything and if nobody else’s parents could give her a ride then she couldn’t go.
But I didn’t want her to be upset.
So I made myself upset.
This is the stuff I want to stop doing.
This is the stuff that I bottle up until it explodes.
This is what I need to say no to.
It wasn’t Gretchen’s fault.
It was mine.
So we talked about this, and I made it clear what I would do in the future if I was just too worn out.
I’d rather have the kids be temporarily disappointed because they missed out on a poorly-planned night with friends than permanently scarred because I totally lost it on them.
And that’s what eventually happens when I don’t set clear boundaries and stick to them.
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