Saturday, September 12, 2009

But wait, there's more...

On top of all the trauma of Tate being in the hospital for eight nights, Wyatt and Gunnar have their own griefs.


Wyatt's soccer team almost didn't get to "be", because they didn't have a coach. We've been getting emails for weeks pleading for someone to come forward or the team would have to fold. Definitely way, WAY out of my skill-set.

One of the other boy's mom, who also works FT at the hospital, (and still plays competitive soccer herself) graciously stepped into the gap so the boys could play. Great, problem solved, right?

Not so fast.

They have no one to play against.

None of the other teams in their age bracket could get enough players to field a team. Which is a major bummer, but even more so because the league has known about the problem for weeks, yet continued to plead/pressure for a coach for our boys, while not telling us the whole story.

Sounds like they may be able to switch to indoor and have a mini-league with four teams. (This works because you have less players on the field, so need less to make a team.) But it's just not the same. And today - opening day - they had no game.


Gunnar did (have a game), however an hour or so before the game he insisted that he was going to die and couldn't possibly play. Why, you might ask?

He's really been missing me while I've been at the hospital with Tate. Really, really, really.

When Tate and I arrived home this morning, Gunnar and Wyatt were at the neighbors' on their bikes. While I was making lunch I heard him calling loudly for me and my first thought was, "Oh! He's so excited I'm home he can't wait to see me!"

But, no. Those were cries of pain. He'd crashed his bike in the alley and was limping home bleeding from his left hand and knee, which were embedded with dirt and gravel.

Trauma and drama. Screams, tears, and woe.

(Truly, it made me deeply appreciate how very calm Tate has been through his ordeal.)

I was finally able to soak most of the grit out in a bath, clean the wound with peroxide, and bandage it up for the game. I consoled him that he was now a "Gunnar, with authentic battle damage."

But wasn't it a gorgeous opening day?!
Gunnar is purple, #4.

And finally...

Wyatt went to bed slightly feverish and complaining of stomach pains.

It's got to be the power of suggestion. It just has to be.


leah said...

That breaks my heart about Wyatt's soccer team! It is too bad they couldn't get enough coaches and players to form two distinct teams (though, like you, it would be WAY out of my skill set if they needed a coach in my area).

I'm sure Gunnar's glad to have Mom home, especially when he has authentic battle wounds! Beautiful first day of soccer- gotta love that sun!

And perhaps Wyatt just has a touch of the tummy flu... (silent prayer)

You have a busy, busy schedule!

Mel-Beth said...

I'm running with the idea that it is power of suggestion.....just can't be another sick kid could it??? Well, if it is....I am here for you.

Herding Grasshoppers said...

Wyatt appears to be fine. May be coming down with a cold. I think the upset tummy and (low) fever had more to do with the HUGE can of pop Kerry bought him after soccer.

I may be coming down with a cold too. Seems like I often come down with something on the tail end of a stressful event.

I think we're all just kind of worn out...

but we keep looking at Tate and smiling and saying, "I'm SO glad you're home!"