My husband is in charge of getting Ethan to hockey...period. Well, unless he's gone and then by parental default I have to do it. This last Monday was one of those such days - as I was struggling to wrestle him into all of his hockey garb (per his instructions) and all I could think of was there's probably less involved in an underwater expedition! I was sweating and muttering and I wasn't even dressed yet (I'm sure there is a special place in heaven for hockey Moms and hopefully it doesn't involve ANY ice).
For those of you who don't live in Salmon, ID here's a vital piece of hockey info....we have an outdoor rink. This means that even though we are surrounded by picturesque mountains and stunning scenery (see picture), we freeze our butts off (literally). So, as you can imagine I still had to suit up for the expedition...snow pants, heavy boots, dorky hat, heavy gloves, my daughter's ski jacket....snorkel.
Believe it or not we were only three minutes late....but, as we were walking out the door Ethan informed me that Dad always carries the stick. In all my infinite parental wisdom I stated, "you can carry your own stick" (this becomes an important bit of information so file it away).
Now, people are used to seeing Russ at hockey not me....I got several sideways glances, a few grins and everyone knew I had drawn the short straw (all of them know hockey is really not my thing....I'd rather be snorkeling).
Well, practice is an hour long and I enjoyed watching Ethan skate and yes, I did watch the whole thing outdoors... not from the comfort of my heated car (after all I was raised in Minnesota and there are certain protocols for these kind of things). Upon driving home I recalled a conversation I had with Brenda Nelson (a high school buddy) several months ago...she said she had a love/hate relationship with hockey and after watching Ethan skate I thought I kind of liked it (love is way too strong of a word). As fate would have it I handed Ethan his stick (remember the above bit of foreshadowing) as we got out of the car and he proceeded to pretend it was a gun shooting imaginary aliens or something as we went into the house. He managed to somehow "tap" the window with the stick which translates to....now I have a broken sun room window...
..... hence this is why Russ always carries the stick....
.......I hate hockey!
P.S. I'm sure there's a special place in Heaven for hockey Dad's and hopefully it involves beer.
Send me a comment with your favorite hockey stories and remember
Tumbled Trinkets are a great gift for any hockey Mom!
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