I’ve been invited to a parent-teacher interview in late June and I hesitated before saying yes.
Not because I don’t want to hear what the teacher has to say … though that does makes me slightly nervous … but because the date niggled in my mind and I couldn’t work out why.
Then I realised … I was supposed to be in Canada in late June for the World Skipping Championships with the youngest. Postponed, of course, until next July.
I can’t imagine travelling overseas in a year’s time, can you? Although, the comments on the Smart Traveller Facebook page suggest there are plenty of people ready to dash overseas for a holiday right now. They’re furious about being “kept prisoner” in Australia – poor them.
I don’t understand their eagerness to fly into the eye of the COVID storm.
Perhaps by next year something miraculous will happen that raises my confidence levels. The youngest has the blitheness of youth on her side and insists we’re going. She is unconcerned by global pandemics and just wants to do her solo routine on the world stage.
I am quite concerned by global pandemics and would be happier sticking to National championships for the foreseeable future. It still freaks me out how many returning travellers have COVID-19, the rest of the world must be riddled with it.
My dream destinations are local now: Ningaloo Reef, Kangaroo Island, perhaps a Queensland island. My idea of being adventurous is going to Christchurch. A month ago it would have been driving to Newcastle – I haven’t even managed that trip, as my father remains terrified we will infect him, despite our negative COVID test results.
Anyways, back to the skipper. Her team finally started training again last night, after three months off. She will be very sore today after 90 minutes of skips and flips. I reckon her teammates will have particularly sore arms from swinging the ropes so high – I’m sure she’s grown three inches since she last trained.
It felt very strange to be organising pick-ups again with the other skipping mums, I even forgot we had a WhatsApp group for it.
I forget a lot of things these days.
It was wonderful to watch the youngest’s team get back into their routines. When they nail a move it makes my heart soar with pride.
Though I can’t say I’ve missed driving the girls home at 7pm from training, then getting cracking on dinner.
Blimey it makes it a long night. That’s the price I pay for somehow giving birth to a skipping champion. I have no idea how – even the teachers used to make fun of me as a kid for being so hopelessly clumsy at sport. (I’ve never forgotten 10-year-old me being laughed at by the rest of the class, I expect teachers don’t do that any more, it was a bit soul crushing).
Fortunately my fingers are nimble.
Song of the day: Swingers “Counting the beat”