I don’t know if you’ll be shocked but we had a soccer tournament this week, 40 minutes away. Though I wanted Carter (my 9-year-old) to win, a part of me didn’t want him to advance to the semi-finals which was at 7:30 a.m……on a Sunday….and we had to be there by 6:45 a.m. I didn’t do a blog post for this morning, obviously, you do the math.
But we did win both Saturday games and we were scheduled for that damn 7:30 a.m. game on Sunday. Since the game was over at 8:30 and we didn’t have another till 12:20, we were in that awkward position where we asked ourselves, “do we stay or do we go?”
We stayed and the majority of it was at a breakfast restaurant.
Our waitress looked like an extra from Guardians of the Galaxy. She was a black woman with purple, weaved in and out of her long dark hair. Her hair was then braided in a number of elaborate braids. I looked at her hair, then down to her name tag and back at her. While most name tags read “Amy” or “Nancy”, she obviously descended from royalty as her’s read “LADY IVY”.
I thought purple was her theme color until she took our order and noticed the green of her nails. I was able to find the color she had on her nails:
Not my first choice in nail lacquer but who am I to judge aristocracy?
For the entire weekend, I had streamed the games live on Facebook. If we are friends on Facebook, you can see all of my streams. Not only did we have a dad that was on bed rest but there were grandparents who wanted to see the game and a couple of parents who were unable to attend. Sure, I no longer have feeling from my thumbs to my index fingers on both hands, but at least they got to see the game.
I can’t remember which stream it was but as I was doing my recording, I suddenly felt a blow to the side of my head that I’ve never felt in all my 41 years. It was as if Zeus had kicked the soccer ball into my head. It came from another field and whoever the kid is that kicked the ball, needs to be offered a football scholarship asap.
“Owe!!!” I screamed.
“Are you ok?” My friend asked me. Other people now turned my direction, asking if I were all right. Though I wanted to cry, I didn’t want to be that adult that cries.
“I’m ok,” I said as I put my phone down on the bleachers. I pulled off my sunglasses to check to see if they could come off and weren’t now permanently attached to my skull.
“It really hurts,” I said.
“Do you need an Advil?” One of the grandparents asked me. I gratefully shook my head yes.
“Just take 2 green ones,” she said as she opened up a lovely pill-box. There were multiple shaped green pills and the last thing I wanted to do was accidentally take a Dulcolax. Chalky tablets were in the container too.
“There are multiple green ones. That’s not Nyquil, is it?” I had to be certain as taking a Nyquil, is on par with taking a roofie.
“Nah, those are Advil,” she assured me. As I picked it up and to my relief, I saw the word ADVIL on the outside.
That was all yesterday. As I sit here now, my head is a little sore but I think I’m ok. It would just be my luck to get a concussion and having not even played a sport. This wasn’t my first time getting hit in the head by a soccer ball (it actually occurred twice in 1 day) but it was certainly the most painful. I don’t think I have any other symptoms of a concussion other than I’m typing this on 2 laptops right now.