Once again, I made a pie to bring to the county fair bake-off at my daughter’s school.  Last year at this event, I was surprised to win third place among the many pies submitted for the pie category. This year when Em and I went to drop off my lemon meringue pies with homemade crusts  (that I woke up early on a Saturday morning to prepare), there was only one other pie on the judging table. I couldn’t tell what kind of pie it was but it looked like a crumble top and in my humble (judgmental) opinion the top looked a little burnt. My pie meanwhile had fresh-squeezed lemon juice from the tree in my own backyard and a nicely toasted, puffy meringue top. Em and I be-bopped out of there. But it was early. There was still over an hour for folks to drop off their entries.

But no – as it would turn out – my pie and the slightly burnt crumble top would be the only two pies to enter the competition that day.

Last year, when we got to the fair we bought one of my pies back at the bake sale so that we could enjoy it. I wanted to do the same this year and sent Liam to go pick up my pie.  He came back empty-handed.  “Your pie is gone already, but you won a second-place ribbon” he said.  I started cracking up, “There were only two pies in the competition!” I said. Liam and Em and my dad and I all started laughing. “Dammit! Next year I’m just going to make two pies and keep them for us to eat at home!”

Em kindly pointed out that, even still, I improved over last year. “Well, that’s true” I had to admit.

But I couldn’t help feeling like second place is first in losing. Losing what? I’m not sure.

The bigger question is why did I do this in the first place? Or maybe why did I do it in the second place? It has something to do with proving that I’m juggling everything adequately: motherhood, working, trying hard enough.

True to form, my life plays like a bad country and western song — second place in a contest of two.

Lesson learned. Next year I’m keeping a whole pie for myself.