**NOTE- This post was written in January ’23**
When you have a household with 5 people, all with different commitments and preferences, scheduling conflicts frequently occur.
Case in point.
My beloved SAN FRANSISCO 49ERS were hosting their first playoff football game of the year. Against their dreaded rival, the Seattle Seahawks (insert BOO track here). I am a HUGE 49ers fan… ever since I was a kid. It was announced weeks in advance that I am NOT to be scheduled for anything during 49er playoff games. Failure to comply results in a full-on childlike tantrum from yours truly… and nobody wants to see that.
I now introduce the dreaded “scheduling conflict”.
All three of my boys are in taekwondo, and it’s amazing. So when the taekwondo class coordinated a sledding event, we signed up immediately. But then, of course, we realize that it conflicts with the football game. Sledding from 1-3, and the game starts at 2:30.
No problem.
I’ll just get them there early, do some crazy speed-sledding for an hour and a half, tire them out, and leave, likely having only missed MAYBE the first 10-20 minutes of football. Cake.
Then it happened.
As I was watching my older two do some sledding, I saw some kids and parents huddled around each other, motioning me over.
“He’s bleeding!”
Although I can’t see, and although there are probably 30-ish kids there, I KNEW it was one of mine. Sure enough, Matthew had sled headfirst into a log, splitting open his forehead, blood in his hair and face. It wasn’t critical, but it was definitely worth a stop to NOWCARE, and probably stitches.
I pick him up and carry him back to the vehicle, and we load up and take off down the mountain. At this point I’m more concerned about my little guy, the football game off my radar. We zip down to NOWCARE, sign him up and Mom takes him in, while me and my other two boys sit out in the waiting room. I go to grab my phone and came to a disastrous realization… because I was sledding, I had given my phone to my wife, who was now in some back office with Matthew assessing his injury. I had no way of getting updates on my boy, and I also had no way to watch the game, or even track the score. Those of you that know me understand that this created a problem. Think of a drug addict trying to quit cold turkey, scratching himself and unable to sit still. That was me. I had the double-anxiety of worrying about my son AND the playoff game. I was a mess. Twitching while I sat, standing up and sitting down for no apparent reason, my 2 oldest kids watching me wondering what’s wrong with Dad. Longest hour and a half of my life.
When they finally reappeared from the back office area, my kiddo was smiling, bandage dead-center on his forehead, telling Daddy he got “6 stitches!”. I kneel down, give him a hug and some inspirational words of courage and love, made sure he was okay, then immediately switched gears. I turn to my wife, hand extended.
“PHONE!”
She didn’t realize she still had it, and so not only had I not gotten any update on my kid, but I had no clue how the game was going. She fishes it out of her purse (the contents of women’s purses.. one of my fears.. I’ll write about that down the road). Halftime, we’re losing. But the moment I’m able to root for my team, to project the lifelong-fan vibe, they go nuts in the second half and win the game.
Coincidence? I think not.