You're Okay. I Promise.

I was in the schoolyard when the bell rang.  A little boy in my daughter's JK class started running to get in line.  He tripped and fell.  He was crying because he'd skinned his knee.  His parents must have left or were far away, because no one was comforting him.  So I went over to him and rubbed his back. 

When he looked at his knee and saw a little bit of blood, he became even more upset.  I said encouragingly, "You'll be okay."

He looked up at me and choked through his sobs, "But what if I'm not okay?"

It broke my heart.  Instantly I assured him that I knew he would be okay, that I was positive.

That seemed to make him feel better.  I passed him along into his teacher's hands and went on to work, thinking sometimes we all need someone to let us know we'll be okay.

The Man Hug

I've said before that my nine year old son won't let me hug him anymore at school.  I was hugging him this morning at home, thinking he really needs affection since he's older and doesn't often sit on my lap anymore.  I was really getting into it, holding him tightly and cuddling, trying to make up for it.  I was thinking we're at home, which would obviously make it acceptable.  I was thinking my poor, affection-starved boy must be thrilled that his mom is giving him some love.

However, as always I turned out to be completely clueless.  Why is it we know everything until we become parents ourselves?  He endured a few minutes of my enthusiastic hug, and then he stepped away from me so we no longer had body contact, thumped me briskly a few times on my back, and muttered, 'Man hug' before walking away.

I was speechless.  A 'man hug'?  Really?  How is that even in your vocabulary?  But mostly I was thinking, 'You do not 'man hug' your mother'! 

There's got to be a way around this.  I will figure it out.  I'll get back to you when I do.  (Don't hold your breath.)

March Break Fun!

We had a hockey tournament in Niagara-on-the-Lake during our March Break.  The hockey was an exciting roller coaster ride of emotions.  And yes, there was a moment when I wanted to smack one of the other parents.  With deep love, of course.  But I took a deep breath and refrained.  And there were moments that took a few years off my life.  But there were also exhilarating times. 

The team bonding was even better.  Getting to know all the parents and children more was the best part of the whole tournament.  It was like a mini-vacation because we went to Niagara Falls as well, which is always fun.

We had a great moment one day in Niagara-on-the-Lake.  My husband and I went to a winery and did some wine-tasting while the kids ran around outside among the vines.  Then we took them to the park after a stop in town to buy chocolate and coffee.  It was a beautiful day; the sun was shining.  The kids were playing happily on the playground.  My husband and I were sitting on a bench.  I was eating chocolate, and it was good chocolate, too: dark chocolate almond bark with sea salt.  I highly recommend it.  It's a fabulous combination.  I was drinking my coffee between bites of chocolate; enjoying the sunshine on my face and the breeze in my hair.  It was a beautiful thing.

As a parent I've learned to take advantage of every moment like this, because you know that any second the kids will start fighting or someone will fall and start crying.  Or one of the kids will give the other one a wedgie, or a noogie.  Maybe that's just my kids.  Anyway, you have to take it all in and save it up as a great memory.  Ahhh.....

Mom of a Goalie

My oldest son has decided he wants to be a goalie full-time, so now I am officially the mom of a goalie.  And let me tell you, it's a lot harder than being the mom of a player.  That's my experience, anyway, having had it both ways.  Whenever a goal is scored, other parents look at you.  They don't look at the parent of the kid who didn't challenge the opposing player on the breakaway who scored the goal.  They look at you.

And it's much more nervewracking to be the mom of a goalie.  I'm basically a basket case.  It has got to get easier.  Tell me it gets easier!  Sometimes I literally can't watch the game.  I have to restrain myself from yelling, "Protect the goalie!"  And: "Where's the D?"  (Notice the hockey lingo I just toss out so casually now.)  I do yell things like, "Go, go, go!"  And: "Get it, get it, get it!"  (I'm pretty articulate.)

Maybe other mothers handle it better than I do.  But I remember a parent one year whose son was goalie for a game, and the score was 10 - 0 against his son.  I saw his face at the end of the game and he looked ill.  He passed a hand over his forehead and said he needed to go home and have a drink.  I completely understand his reaction.

I think every hockey parent should have a child who plays goalie.  Just once, so they can see what it's like.  And to have their child get shelled, so they can develop some empathy.

Maybe then we wouldn't have parents still cheering loudly and obnoxiously when their team is already winning 7 - 0.

Maybe we wouldn't have parents who jump up and run down to the glass and pound on it when their child gets a goal.

I'm all about cheering for the team, and the players.  But even when we're winning now, I stop cheering if the lead gets too large.  It's about sportsmanship, and not running up a score.  What does that teach the kids?  A win is a win; does it have to be a massacre?  And I think about the other goalie, and the other goalie's mom.  And I cheer for both sides.  A good save is a good save, and a good play is a good play.  Did I mention we're playing in houseleague, and not the NHL?

Today was very stressful because not only was it a playoff game for my son, but then he was called up at the last minute to play goal for an older league.  When he was on the ice with the older and literally sky-high boys, he was honestly half their height.  He looked like a midget.  I have never wanted to swoop down and lift him up and take him away with me more than I did at that moment.  He just looked so small.  Thankfully he's a laid-back kid and he doesn't seem to get stressed out at all.

I'm very proud of my son and I think he's an amazing goalie.  I'm glad he has found his niche and I think hockey is a beautiful game.  And now I need to go on a nice long run to try and relax! 

Fun with the Flu!

All three of my children have just suffered through the flu.  And of course they didn't have it simultaneously; it was week after week after week.  I'm still suffering from sleep deprivation.  (I don't know how I did it when they were babies.  It was years of a big hazy blur in which my two main thoughts were: 'They're so adorable' and 'I'm so tired!')  Of course you want to be there for them so I would sleep beside them at their request. And then you're up taking temperatures and giving medicine and providing Kleenex and drinks of water.  And making soup and tea and giving crackers.  My daughter would be sitting on the couch, a miserable dripping mess, surrounded by piles of Kleenex higher than her head and still sniffling and looking pathetic.

It's funny how it changes your perspective, though.  I was particularly worried about my son because his cough sounded so horrible, and he didn't look good.  His colour was off and his eyes looked a bit glittery and he wasn't himself at all.  He would lie on the couch wrapped in a blanket.  This is my rough and tumble boy.  The boy who is never, ever, ever tired out.  The one who has so much energy he could power the whole neighbourhood!

One day he started acting out a little.  I was reading to him in bed and he started turning the light off and on even though I told him not to.  He wasn't listening to me.  Hmmm.  I started feeling cautiously hopeful.  Then he was fooling around and he fell off the bed.  Also he started making silly jokes.  It was undeniable.  He was better!  I was SO happy!  Finally he was back to his old self.  It felt fabulous.  Bring on the misbehaviour!

And I knew my four year old daughter was back to her old self when my husband started tickling her, and she responded in a way that just didn't seem to go with her glittery pink dress and her cute little ponytails tied with purple ribbon.  She instantly assumed an MMA fighting stance and yelled, "BRING IT ON, DADDY!"   My husband shot me a surprised look, but he kept tickling her.  Then she yelled even louder: "I'm going to take you DOWN!"

Ah, the joy of having older brothers!

Tree Growing Out of the Escarpment

I love these pictures of a tree growing right out of the rock of the escarpment.  The roots cling to and snake over and through the rock.  It's amazing.  I think it proves the saying: 'Grow where you are planted.'

You Have Messed Up My Entire Life!

My boys were, as usual, arguing.  One of them complained that his brother had just messed something up for him.

The other shot back, "Oh yeah?  Well, YOU have messed up MY ENTIRE LIFE!"

He really took it to the next level with that statement.  Talk about upping the ante!

And then, ten minutes later, they were sitting on the couch with their arms around each other. 

This love/hate thing is really hard on parents.  Sometimes I put them in their rooms for fighting and before they are even done their time-out, they have forgiven each other and are scheming about what to play next.  They have forgiven each other even before I've forgiven them for fighting!

I tell them we love them exactly the same, completely equally; that they are different but our love is the same.

I know there is love there, somewhere...deep, deep down inside.  Really deep.  Sometimes hard to find.  But there...right?