The youngest informed me yesterday that one of her teachers had quietly asked if everything was OK at home.
The teacher was concerned that she was being physically abused because she is covered in bruises.
The youngest thought it was very funny that her AFL injuries had been mistaken for domestic violence.
I was mortified! Although hats off to the teacher for asking the elephant-in-the-room question.
AFL is a very physical sport and the youngest’s limbs are black and blue. Her legs took a pounding on Sunday, including someone kicking her in both thighs.
It looks bad, but she loves the argy barg.
Her adoration of contact sport scares me a bit because footy seems to involve a high risk of being stretchered off.
The youngest’s cousin just started playing rugby again this season and a teammate snapped his tibia clean in two a few weeks ago.
It took 35 minutes for an ambulance to get there. He was finally pumped full of morphine, but his screams still echoed throughout the suburb as the paramedics straightened the bones to ensure they didn’t break through the skin as he was being transferring to the ambulance.
Speaking of ouch, the youngest is still battling nerve pain in her knee.
The doctor suggested on Saturday that she should take a break from sport to let it recover.
The youngest smiled and nodded … and joined her school soccer team in addition to AFL and skipping.
Her mother, on the other hand, needs to rally and do some sort of daily exercise. I’m finding it hard to get back in the groove after putting my gym membership on hold during the last lockdown.
I had grand plans to spend every lunchtime walking up steep hills this week, but somehow it didn’t happen yesterday during my crazy busy contracting role. And the rest of the week is predicted to be filled with showers. The rain is gouting down as I write this blog post.
It’s a pity making chicken soup doesn’t burn calories, because that’s my mum task for today.
Stay safe and dry during this miserable weather.
Song of the day: Air Supply “Love and other bruises”