Finally, though, I managed to get my act together.
|As ever, click to embiggen.|
It was a good game, and according to Derek he played well. (I always think he plays well, even when he has apparently done something less than great. This is because I am still baffled that any child of mine could have so much as a modicum of athletic talent. This boy has dodged all the genetic bullets my DNA could throw at him, which let me assure you, are legion.)
Oh. Right. Night terrors.
We've experienced the effects of our son's night terrors for years now, but it was still pretty upsetting for me to see it so clearly, how exhaustion was keeping him from doing his best. I realize it's just a kids' soccer game, with minimal repercussions, but watching all those other kids bounce around out there, it was evident how different Atticus's reality is from theirs. And that sucks.
The day after this game, though, I was talking to another parent about her little girl, who has Type I diabetes, and who has had to re-orient her family's life around this diagnosis. It was a good reminder that all families have invisible struggles, from night terrors to diabetes to children who give their mothers that birthed them a hard time about listening to Christmas music in October. THERE IS NEVER A BAD TIME TO LISTEN TO CELTIC CHRISTMAS, OKAY, UNGRATEFUL PROGENY?
Maybe Yoda had night terrors, too.
Soccer season is now over, which Atticus is already grieving. I'm excited about the time this frees up, but am wise enough not to say so. It's already given us extra orchard time!