Hockey

It was bound to happen but now it's official. I'm a hockey mom. Ben started hockey last weekend at 4 years old. He was out there in his full gear, leaning on his stick for balance, showing off his Flames jersey, inching his way across the ice. He was so cute (other than the few tears about ill-fitting socks and then ill-suited games) and he had fun out there. Of course he wants to PLAY hockey not just learn to skate but he's starting to realize that he has to do one before the other. There were some kids skating like pros out there, which made me feel like we should have been teaching him long ago. There were also some kids who couldn't stand up or get back up once they fell. He's somewhere in between. I know he'll be fine out there. He's ready. I'm just not sure I am.

I started thinking, as my butt began to freeze to the bleachers, that I was going to be out here early Saturday mornings for a decade or two. I'm going to watch my little boy learn to skate, learn to check and take a hit, and probably watch him get into a scrap or two if he's anything like his father on the ice. I'll most likely curse the 'hockey parents' that freak out about bad calls and bad coaching and celebrate the boys' victories, both on the scoreboard and off. I'm going to watch my baby grow up -- granted measured by all the new,expensive gear that it'll take to keep up with him, but well worth the investment!

He shuffled off the ice for the first time a better skater than when he shuffled onto it and I was so proud that he'd gotten out there and was eager to go back again. So I'll pack Carmen and I a warm blanket and cushion and to-go mugs and we'll gladly sit and watch the show.