Tuesday, April 27, 2010

I get to referee at home AND on the track, and p.s. Croup Crap

I was at practice Sunday, and I managed not to actually hurt myself. I can't believe it either.

I don't think ANYONE ELSE was surprised, however - because in order to achieve this I opted out of most of the drills. Especially the scary/dangerous ones. Like, for instance, the tomahawk stop. The tomahawk stop is notable for it's potential to cause me to fall forward OR backward depending on which way the wind is blowing.

Since I already have a very-well developed ability to bond with the concrete, I chose not to increase my odds by attempting this technique. IN brief: the tomahawk drill involved skating fast as I could along the track, suddenly reversing direction and then going up onto my toe stops to come to a halt. The entire concept involves 3 different ways to hurt myself - when really, I don't need to do anything more then walk through the grocery store with a stretched out flip-flop to cause a major crash and burn. I am not the most graceful girl on the planet. So I certainly wasn't going to be taunting the gods by spinning around like a lunatic. If I had any sort of control I would be more inclined to give it a try, but honestly, just staying upright and moving forward is a notable achievement.

After they had finished with drills and I was asked if I wanted to scrimmage, I am not sure if the look in my eye said "SHEER TERROR" or "Are you out of your fucking mind?".

All of this is leading up to learning at practice that I am going to be one of the team members refereeing the bout on May 22nd. I am relieved and (in an unanticipated twist) vaguely humiliated. First of all, I am so glad I am not going to have to be involved in getting my ass kicked in front of an audience, that I almost burst into tears when they told me. But then, slowly slowly slowly (it takes me a while) I realized that I was perhaps chosen to referee because I was a liability on the track. Not good enough to, you know, actually skate.

I brushed that thought aside. OF COURSE I'm not good enough to skate. Who gives a shit. Refereeing means CUTE REFEREEING OUTFIT

I just couldn't be more honored. Really. Did you know I get to carry my own whistle? *Squeee* indeed.

So, flying high on my newly assigned role within the team, it stands to reason that life would get in the way. Nothing brings a roller girl who is skating at top speed away from mid-life to a crashing halt faster then a 5 year old with a nasty cough. (Or that damned tomahawk stop. That maneuver is SUCH a bitch.)

Thigh highs with police badges and vaguely obscene referee phrases on hotpants be damned, my girl needs her mama. Wicked Skatewear I'll be back.........

Yesterday her little cough had turned into a big, barking, extravaganza by the end of the school day. Last night, she spent most of the night coughing. At first, I thought it was her allergies - she's not asthmatic, per se, but she has an inhaler because she does tend towards respiratory inflammation. Which we had in spades last night. So we fired up the cool mist humidifier, rubbed some vapor cream on her chest, gave her water to sip, and lay awake all night listening to her struggle.

I'm keeping her home today. I looked online and it said croup is contagious.
Her teachers didn't seem concerned yesterday and she doesn't have a fever, but I am going to play it safe.
I'm good at that.
Even a referee doesn't know all the rules.

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