Ah yes, days five and six. Did I mention that it’s hockey season in this house?
I love hockey. We’re huge Colorado College fans, and when we’re home in Colorado, you can bet you’ll find us in my parents’ seats on the ice, cheering the Tigers on. So when we signed our boys up for hockey last year, I guess I kind of pictured:
Brody starts this year, which means that we now have all four boys playing, and each boy has roughly 17 pieces of equipment and clothing, which means there are suddenly 68 items of hockey stuff in my living room in one massive pile because we’re all:
So after 3 hours of washing, labeling, and sorting their gear so it’s easy to get them ready, I headed to bed last night. Jason, God bless him – his words of advice for doing this solo are along the lines of:
Oh, did I tell what time I’d be getting up every Saturday morning? 5:45. At that time, it requires a supernatural act to get me out of bed.
So by 6:40 am, we’re out the door, headed for the rink about 30 min away. I line all of them up on the benches inside the rink, hand the Bigs their equipment, and start lacing up the Littles. By the time I have the Littles laced and snapped up, ready to hit the ice, Aidan, our 8 year-old, only needs help tightening his skates. But I look over, and Aaron, our nearly 10 year old, is still looking at his skates like:
Yes, yes, I know I already used that one before, but really… that’s how he looked. After he repeatedly tells me he can’t figure out how to loosen his skates to get his feet in, I have a moment of:
So before I lose it on the oldest of my kids, who has already played hockey all last season, I took a deep breath and did it for him. Why? Because at 7:00 a.m., I’m just not ready to use the “mean mommy” voice. But let’s face it. Aaron is… challenged in the common sense department. And besides, even though hockey is the sport he excels at, I know in the back of his little mind, he’s just waiting for the day he can integrate a light saber into the game.
Yeah. So we walk into the rink, and in the “learning” section, where the Littles practice, it looks like an all out melee, and I’m thinking:
After one kid stomps off in his skates, kicking his mother and screaming his six year-old head off, I turn around to see my boys:
When the coach opens the doors to take Chase and Brody (remember he’s three and it’s his first year,) I nearly lunged for the door and yanked him back:
But yeah, I swallowed back my mommy paranoia and let them hit the ice. Then again, after a few minutes with the kicking kid, I was just waiting for the coaches to:
Then again, hockey players aren’t known to be level-headed, right? So all nervousness aside, I start watching Aaron and Aidan run drills, and it’s like they’ve been on the ice all year. Like ducks to water, they’re out there tearing it up.
And THAT, is why I don’t mind getting up at 5:45 a.m.. Well, that’s a lie. It wouldn’t really hurt anyone if they gave us ice time an hour later. Really. Let’s do something about that okay? After practice, I strip their gear, toss them in the car, head home and feed them… AGAIN. Then in a half hour? AGAIN. It’s kind of like:
But I think of all the crazy joy they have out there, and though I’m pretty wiped out and now they’re all exhausted cranky (and they’ve eaten a 4th and 5th time), I’m all:
So rock on, my little hockey boys, and I’ll lay out all your gear again to get ready for tomorrow. I LOVE that you’ve all found something that you love. And I love watching you love it. So, generally, it a very early, very cold love fest.
Yay for hockey season!