Bluegrass Mama

BD’s feeling better, thank you. I called her after my Bible study, and she said she felt well enough to go to school. So I zipped home and took her in, then went merrily on my way to my appointment, lunch with Steve, and several other errands. The last errand was to replace an aquarium fish that had died within the guarantee period and had been stashed in the freezer for a few days.

As the new fish and I were about 10 minutes from home, my phone rang. It was 3:15. BD said, “We have a field hockey game at (insert school name here) at 4:00 and I don’t have any of my stuff!” I knew tournament time was coming, but I had picked BD up early from yesterday’s practice for a dentist appointment and missed the announcement of the game. No one had thought to call or email. Pretty risky, since BD has been the goalie for for most of the season and has never been known for her attention to detail. Even details like tournament schedules.

I was only 15 minutes away from the game site. Unfortunately, it was in the opposite direction from home. Which is where BD’s stick, cleats and other necessary equipment were. 10 minutes to get home, a few minutes to put away the refrigerated groceries, feed the cats, grab BD’s equipment and get rid of the Diet Coke I’d been drinking, then 25-30 minutes back to the field–I’d be lucky to get there by game time.

Then there was the question of the replacement fish. Proper fish care required me to put him in his little baggie in the aquarium for 15-20 minutes so the water would gradually adjust to the new temperature (and so he and the existing fish could check each other out). Instead, I put his baggie in, rushed around like a madwoman for about 3 minutes, then dumped him in the tank.

I hit all the school traffic and the first rain we’ve had in weeks on my way back. When I wasn’t stuck in traffic I was breaking the speed limit driving as quickly as I safely could. By the time I got there, BD was wearing someone else’s shorts and cleats along with the goalie gear. She demanded her stick, which I grabbed out of her equipment bag. Apparently she was feeling as stressed as I was, because she then yelled at me for leaving her gear lying in the rain. Um, we were outside. It’s not like I’ve ever seen a dugout at a field hockey field. I left the gear where it was.

BD played for one quarter, giving up one (questionable) goal before getting hit hard in the arm with a stick and being pulled for a rookie goalie. Our team got creamed. Since our offense didn’t score, it wouldn’t have mattered if BD had stayed in. Not that I’m saying she’d have stopped more goals than the backup, of course. I wouldn’t dream of such of a thing. (Well, maybe just a little.)

I’m thinking I should never have taken her to school today, and we could have missed the whole thing. At least the fish is still alive.