Part two

Do you ever have those out of body experiences, where you are looking down at yourself in a crap situation, and think, wow that really sucks. I wonder what they are going to do? What I really want to do is melt into a puddle and cry…what I must to is figure out a plan.

Option One ….tell the team and the coach that their star goalie does not have her equipment, and we forfeit the game. Not an appealing option.

Option two…drive back to Vancouver to get her stuff. It is at this moment that I realize that her goalie bag is on its way to Maple Ridge with M. I phone Ben and ask him to call the dad giving her a ride and break the news to M. that she will not be able to play her game either. So in addition to being physically impossible, the missing hockey bag is on its way to Maple Ridge….also a physical impossibility.

Option three… We drive to Canadian Tire and try to piece together equipment so s/he can play.

While I voice these options aloud, A keeps repeating the same three sentences…ones she had heard from me over a thousand times. “Breathe. Don’t worry. It will be ok….mummy, just breath.”

“Get the GPS. We’re going to Canadian Tire. What exactly do you need?.”
“Skates and pants I think. The rest I can get from M’s bag.”
“Let’s go.”

To my credit. I work well under pressure. Another skill developed from years of being a midwife and dealing with crazy, time sensitive, situations. We made it to and from Canadian Tire with the requisite pieces of equipment in time to dress for the game and get on the ice. Luckily, also we were playing the only team in the lower mainland with a ‘back-up’ goalie. She loaned A a jersey, blocker and glove.

With the wrong equipment, its fair to say, s/he did not play her best game….but at that point it didn’t matter. S/he was on the ice, in full gear. As I explained our, almost comical situation to the other parents and coaches, I felt like an idiot. How could I screw up something so simple, as getting the right kids’ bag? How did these other parents do it? They looked way more together than I felt, even on my good days. How did they get here looking so together, with their mugs of coffee, and their happy, fed, fully clothed kids?

At the end of the game A’s coach (a lovely guy and awesome coach) asked to speak to us. This is rarely good. He addressed his comments to A, and reminded her that it was her responsibility to organize her equipment and not rely on her mom and dad. In my fragile state I felt chastised and embarrassed. As he gently and appropriately spoke to A, and ended our conversation I proceeded to burst into tears. I retreated to the car, where I had the biggest cry I’ve had in years. It took me awhile to even be able to drive.

As we drove home, Anneke said one thing…..”I love you so much mom.”
“Thanks sweetie, I love you too.” Maybe it wasn’t such an awful day after all.