Hockey Mom this Christmas
Every hockey mom knows this view. It feels like for entire months, we are lacing kids into skates, blade precariously placed between our knees, fingers rubbing on laces (or sticking on waxed laces) as we hurriedly get the kids on the ice.
I just got back to the house after lacing our youngest up. Our oldest prefers to do his own now.. most Peewee AA kids don’t need their moms for much other than moral support and post-game snacks. But, there was a time when I laced his skates many times a week, double checked the Velcro on his neck guard, struggled to snap his helmet straps on, and filled his water bottle as he impatiently waited to leave the dressing room and get onto the bench. It always felt like a huge rush, and an even bigger relief when they’d set their bottle on the shelf under the bench and take their first few strides. I would haul the other two little ones into the stands where I would ply them with food and chocolate milk to stay sedentary while I tried to watch a few moments of their big brother’s game. As time would have it, now I have no little people trailing behind me in the dressing room, since the smallest is joining the rush on the ice. So today I tightened a few extra pairs of skates as the temporary rink mom after I did my son’s down at the pond, and the familiar ache settled into my back as I stood up and saw them all take off, I was surprised to catch myself quietly watching and finding myself almost in tears at the ordinary simplicity of it all. The scene was so familiar since as a kid growing up in Sasky, my own dad tied my skates as I squirmed to try and catch up with the big kids already shooting pucks.
It was that memory, seeing all the kids stumble down the hills with their sticks weaved through their skates, eyeing up the pond hockey competition, about to throw their sticks in the middle for an impromptu game, that made my heart heavy for a moment. There’s some hockey moms that would give anything to tie up a few more skates, referee feuding siblings (“Please don’t Jersey your brother!!!”)and feed a bunch of tired and cold pond hockey kids at their counters this Christmas. Those moms and dads, Grandmas and Grandpas and all the family and friends that lost a Bronco that day, well they are never far from my mind, and in between watching the kids make teams, and designate a goalie, I wanted to make sure they knew that they are thought of often, by many, in the ordinary things we have always taken for granted. And I also wanted to let them know that because of them, we are all taking in some ordinary moments a little more carefully this Christmas. As always, #humboldtstrong