The View From A Slightly Twisted Angle

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Helmets and Parasols

on May 6, 2012

I love Sundays.  The one day of the week when schedules are not as crazy and the family can spend time together. Our habit is to start Sundays by attending church together.  When we get home I cook the one meal of the day, hoping that there will be plenty leftover for later when our 10-year-old asks, “What’s for supper?”  promptly at 5pm. (May I direct you to the box of microwave popcorn son?)  The afternoon consists of naps, watching whatever sporting event is in season, reading, being lazy, hanging out. No cleaning, laundry, or grocery shopping.  A day to rest, recharge and get ready for the week ahead.   Ahhhh!

After the week that just passed, my daughters need a little recharge.  I need a recharge. I’m pretty sure they are trying to kill themselves, each other or me.  Maybe all of the above.  Here’s a little recap:

Monday: 17-year-old daughter, Brittnie, talked 14-year-old daughter, Lyndsie into trying out for show choir the week before.  The lists of who made it were posted  and Lyndsie isn’t on it.  Very sad 14-year-old.  Meanwhile the 17-year-old, who did make it for the 3rd year in a row, is on to the next thing.  She’s talking the 14-year-old into trying out for the color guard for the band next year. (17-year-old is the drum major.)   14-year-old agrees to try it.  After running the younger one between track practice and flag practice, comforting her because she didn’t make show choir and refereeing the bickering between the two of them, mother feels like 147-year-old.

Tuesday: Brittnie, our beautiful accident prone child, is the stage manager for the Spring Play.  Sounds safe enough doesn’t it?  She texts me in the evening wondering if I could bring her some ibuprofen.  I ask why. I should know better.  Apparently while she was managing the stage someone on the set changing crew wacked her in the head with a lamp-post.  Yes.  A lamp-post.  Her head hurts.  I guess it would.  This might be a great place to insert that the child had 2 concussions last school year from getting hit in the head with something random in an environment that should have been safe.  Earlier this year she sported a huge black bruise on her temple for weeks when her show choir partner “dipped” her into the back of another girl’s head.  She has no future in roller derby.  Just saying.

Wednesday:  Lyndsie’s nose and forehead starts peeling from the sunburn she got at the track meet the Saturday before.  She’s a little freaked, but I look at it as yet another lesson in “use your sunblock”.  (Have I mentioned before that both my girls are red heads?  Lyndsie much fairer skinned than Brittnie, but both sun burning red heads.)  It’s just her face and it’s just a little skin scuffing off. This one isn’t so bad.  Meanwhile  Brittnie is still sporting a headache.  So am I.

Thursday: Spring play opening night.  I see Brittnie for all of 5 minutes, but her pupils look to still be dialating correctly.  Meanwhile, Lyndsie is at another track meet and then another flag practice.  She texts me when she is finally done.  I drive to pick her up.  Is that LOBSTER my child?  First thing out of her mouth : “Mom! I used my sunscreen.  I even reapplied it – TWICE!”  I can tell she did apply it (at least recently) because I can smell it.  I give her “the look.”  “Seriously Mom.  Ask Kiersten.  She used it  and she still got sun burned too!”    I almost hate to ask: “What sunblock are you using?”  Answer: “The stuff in my sports bag.”  Question: “How long has it been in your sports bag?”  Answer: “I don’t know. Couple years.”  Sigh.   A cold shower, ibuprofen, aloe and lots of water to drink before bed.  I pop a few ibuprofen also.

Friday: I actually see Brittnie long enough to speak to her and ask her how she’s doing.  She pushes back her bangs for me. WOW!  She really did get hit in the head.  Yet another large black bruise.  Meanwhile our daughter the lobster is moving rather slowly, but she’s moving.  I send them off to school and wait for CPS to call.   Thankfully the phone doesn’t ring.  The lobster tries out for flags in the evening.  How did it go? “It went”.  Oh.  OK.  Meanwhile, our stage manager heads off for night two of the play.  I’m thankful it’s dark and she let her bangs grow out.

Saturday: Brittnie stays in town because she has to be at the play performance while we head out of town for a funeral.  As far as I know, no one was injured or maimed in any way, but the marks may not show up until tomorrow.

Today is Sunday though!  A day to recharge!  They need to heal up.  I need rest up.  Tomorrow I’ll be out shopping for a football helmet and a shade parasol.


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