Here’s the thing about being a parent. We worry. We worry about things that don’t happen and we worry about the things that do happen. What I worry about happened last night – one of the boys was hit in the base of his skull with a pitch. He’s got a concussion … I know the symptoms … my daughter has had two. He couldn’t recall the day. His hearing was fuzzy. Immediate headache. Trouble getting out of the car. Felt off. Looked off. I hate this.
When my daughter had her first one, I didn’t know what it was right away. The second time, when a boy lit her into the boards at hockey (and he bragged about it … really, she’s a girl!?), I knew. I could see it in her eyes. I hate this.
What are our options? They love sports. And, even when they don’t play any sports, s*** happens. Sure, we can lock them in a room and give them books and a deck of cards. But then they turn crazy and do other s*** that gets in the newspapers. Can’t win (or protect) either way.
We are at home. He’s resting. I have tears in my eyes and my stomach hurts.
We give birth to them. Protect them as best we can. But in the end, it’s in someone (something?) else’s hands and we have to let go. We really have no control. I hate this.
So, hug your kids today. I know nothing will happen to any of them and I know mine will be fine, but hug them anyway — You just can’t get enough of that!
Enjoy a quiet Saturday.
theyearof50 