Tuesday, February 7, 2012

Oh Wilson, why you do me that way?

I used to be a pretty good basketball player.  I was the captain of the team and made the All Stars in high school.  I had some skills, people.  And I'm tall.  Really tall.  That goes a long way.

Until you're 41, evidently.

The twins are playing basketball this year and they're pretty good.  Either because they know that I used to play (and secretly idolize me) or because I'm the only parent home since basketball season started (ding! ding! ding! We have a winner!), they frequently ask me to go down to the park and shoot some hoops.  I think one of them was surprised that I could hold my own.  I have helped him improve his free throws, despite his protests that he couldn't possibly make the shot without jumping wildly and therefore risking crossing the free throw line and negating any success.  We've talked a lot about perfecting the lay up and how important that is.  They're both good little dribblers, and they're improving as the season progresses.

So I went to the park yesterday with Reid and after we went through our free throws, he asked to play a little one-on-one.  This involved me running and dodging and jumping.  It's not pretty, but I can do it.  I even managed to control my bladder about 50% (okay 30%) of the time when straining for those lay ups.  (Too much information?  I think it's better to be honest - because having three children, two at once! - takes its toll on your body.  Full disclosure.)  My hair was down and I didn't have a clip, so my hair kept getting in the way when I'd dribble.  But I persevered.  The boy and I were tied up, 4-4.  I knew the boy was impressed with my tenacity.  I felt a twinge in my left calf, but figured it was just the muscle protesting a bit.  Only when Reid went up for his next shot and I went to block him, the twinge went "Pop!"  I couldn't bend my foot in any way or the pain in my calf screamed.  Reid made the shot.  We hobbled home.

I ended up with a bag of frozen veggies on my leg.
And Reid had to take over cooking dinner.  Twice baked potatoes.  He didn't mind.

Look at that face!  "I'm sorry you can't hang with me on the basketball court, Mom."  That's what he was thinking - I just know it.

I will heal.  And then I'm gonna kick his butt on the court.

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