March 2, 2019

'Get out of your heads!'

This will be brief.  At least that is my plan.  I need to get to bed, because my head is KILLING me.  I am convinced that marrying a physical therapist was part of the good Lord's master plan for me.  Otherwise where would I be?  (Here is where you try to imagine the joy that crosses Coach's face when he comes home from treating people for 15 hours straight and I beg him to fix me).

I know why my head hurts.  Three days a week I attend very intense workouts taught by the same fitness guru, who will stop at nothing to torture us.  It's a love/hate thing.  I hate it, but I love it when I am done.  Anyway, these headaches often come on because by the end of the intense-class-day the muscles up and down my back, in my neck, and my shoulders are so tight and whiney that it makes my head throb.  I use these back muscles to stand upright every damn day - plus I workout almost daily.  You would think these muscles would be accustomed to constant use.

Mini survived a headache of her own her during freshman basketball season that just ended (how is that for a segway?).  The coach was a little goofy.  Mini started the season back in mid November anticipating a fun season.  By the end, she was fed up.

During timeouts, the coach consistently gave the team of 7 girls the following advice:  'Get out of your heads!'  He ended games and practices with chatting sessions.  It was odd.  He was more about talking then he was about providing them with drills that would benefit the team.  Mini wanted to improve.  She is around 5'10" with noodle arms.  She needed instruction not psycho babble.

My kid with the ball and Curly, Reg, Lad,
 and my mom watching from the stands.
As the season drew to a close, Mini became more and more irritated by the coach.  He was a teacher's aid at her high school initially but left to get a full time teaching job at another high school.  Over time Mini figured out that he was immature and that Reggie had more b-ball knowledge than this guy.

While we did win some games, we lost to a team early in the season in overtime.  At the end of the season, we played the same team.  The other team mopped the floor with us and made us look silly.  I attribute that to the other team growing and our team remaining stagnant.

The coach invited the girls to a pizza place to celebrate their season.  Mini initially told him that she might not be able to make it due to a babysitting job.  At one of their last games, she told him that she could in fact go to the pizza party.

I was so confused when Mini walked in from the pizza place, because I was opening an email from her coach.  He was apologizing for the miscommunication and for missing the party.  I looked from Mini's face to the computer and back again, 'Huh?'  She burst out laughing, 'I know!  He never showed up!'

In his email to all the parents, he explained that he wanted all of the girls to make the party, and that Mini said she had to babysit so he never confirmed the party.  What?  How in the world did the whole team show up then?  Mini insisted that she told him she didn't need to babysit a few weeks prior, but she added, 'He is a child and he tends to not listen', so this didn't surprise her.

She said they ended up having a blast without him and every time the restaurant door opened, they cringed hoping it wasn't him showing up late.  Then last week, Mini bumped into him when she was returning her uniform.  She walked around the corner afterward and another teammate appeared to turn in her uniform.  Her lame-ass coach said to her teammate, 'You know it is all Mini's fault?'  Teammate:  'How?'

He did not know that Mini was around the corner within earshot.  I know I must be doing something right, because my kid went back around the corner and said to him, 'What?  Why didn't you just say that to my face instead of behind my back?  And I did tell you that the date for the party worked for me when we were at the LT game.  I can't help that you don't listen.'

And that is how my noodle-arm kid flexed her muscles and made me proud- although how fitting would it have been if she told him 'Get out of your head!' (Incidentally her teammate sent a snap-chat to the rest of the team describing how Mini told him what for after overhearing him throw her under the pizza-party-mishap bus, which Mini found positively hilarious).


Kari said...

I am so jealous of your being married to a physical therapist.
I am sorry about your headache. I can unfortunately relate to those. :(

Ernie said...

Yes, the PT husband thing has its perks . . . the hours though - not so fabulous!