Yes, I accept it.  I’m fickle. Emotional.  Changeable.  Whatever you want to call it.

This is Dave’s third year in hockey.  His brother takes him 90% of the time to practices so I have plenty of help.  I go to all the games.  One kid.  I’ve always been grateful that he never asked to try out for a travel team or a spring league.  It’s expensive, time-consuming, and a very long season as it is.

Til this year.  His coach asked if he wanted to try out for the “select team”.  Didn’t realize that meant travel team.  ANOTHER $350.  He was asked.  How can I say no?  My step-son tells me if he makes it, he is just too burned out to take him five times a week to the rink so I will have to step up.  How can I say no?

My dad stresses me out.  He calls and asks “Is this going to cost more money?”  I say yes, but don’t tell him how much.  He asks if we are going to have to drive a lot further and more often.  I say yes and cringe.  “How are you possibly going to do that?”  I tell dad that we just need to see if he even gets selected.  Then I will see who else gets picked.  There are two families I know that would help manage transportation if their kids get picked too.  I am irritated at my dad.  My son lost his dad.  How can I say no?  But deep down, I know he’s right.  It will stretch us in every way imaginable.

Inside, I am praying he doesn’t get in.  That way I don’t have to make the decision.  Too much money, time, stress.  But how can I say no?  He tries out Sunday and we are supposed to find out Wednesday.  He gets ready for school and tells me I need to let him know the second I find anything out.  I prepare him that even if he gets in, we have a big decision to make.  He says he understands, but how could I really tell him no?

I have to work most of the evening.  I come home, greeted by my step-son.  He informs me that Dave didn’t get picked.  He said he was taking it very well and had a friend over to play so that was helping.  Wow, prayer answered.  I don’t have to say no and feel like the bad guy.  I don’t have to say yes and stress us all out in every way.  Phew, right?

No, I cry instead.  I’m so sad for him.  Then I’m mad.  Those asses.  Obviously they don’t know a great skater when they see one.  Dave handles it much better than I do.

Fickle, I admit it.