While I was riding in my car the other day, I looked down and guess what I saw on the tray table? You will never guess.
No, not the kind you drink your favorite beverage from; the kind used to protect certain male parts from injury. Apparently the offending piece of plastic had been ripped out of the special underwear made to hold it immediately after practice and tossed into the car. He couldn’t wait until we got home to take it off.
Being a former lab researcher, I am well-versed in PPE (personal protective equipment), but in the first 35 years of my feminine life, I never had to think about protecting the family jewels. And I was perfectly fine with that.
But now I am the mother of 4 boys and they are getting older and playing sports. We have to think about delicate male parts and listen to the giggles of embarrassment when we have to buy a cup.
We also have to deal with Spouse’s nervousness about traumatic injury that is a side effect of his job.
It’s not easy being the wife and kids of a surgeon. Trampolines? No way. Tree climbing? Only when Spouse is away. Four-wheelers? Don’t even think about it.
You can’t blame him. He sees far more than the average person should have to deal with. One summer, after he took care of a couple of kids shot in hunting accidents, he swore there was no way our children would ever go hunting.
It figures that just days after Number 3 began to play lacrosse Spouse had to rush in and operate on a testicle that had been smashed during lacrosse practice.
So now we say “Hail, hail to straps and cups and all of that jock stuff!”
Blogging my way from A to Z as part of the 2014 April A to Z Challenge!