Last week Alex came home with an "invitation" to a potluck for the basketball team. As usual, I began to fret about the potluck dish. But the dish was the least of my worries. The potluck would also involve a "mothers versus daughters" game.
The last time I played basketball, I was the same age as Alex, girls BB only allowed two dribbles, and I had broken my finger.
On the day of the big game, I had a glimmer of hope the event would be cancelled due to weather. You could count on the weather to thwart everything else this season. But not this time. So I would play...and
=>get my hands on the ball WAY more than I intended.
=>miss every shot I took, and I took plenty.
=>bruise both of my knees going after a loose ball that I worked really hard to save...despite not another soul around to fight me for it.
=>run completely out of saliva, forcing me to drink out of a germ-infested water fountain which ultimately knocked me out with a cold the next day.
Needless to say, the mothers lost. To a bunch of cheating Catholic schoolgirls.
At least Alex's friends were amused by my apologies on the court. I felt really bad about knocking one little girl down and was trying to help her back up when her own mother came and swiped the ball from her daughter's hands. Thank God the other mom didn't come and knock me down. I'm not sure what I would've done if someone would've knocked my girl down!
Oh, wait. I did get Alex once. But I apologized profusely. And she easily forgave through her laughter. I have to admit, despite my injuries, the cold and the three days of stiffness...it was pretty fun. And I'd do it again. (And no, there will be no photos with this post.)