Crazy, right?
Yet, yesterday, during a temporary lapse in judgment, I decided it was a good idea to take the boys, by myself, ice skating for the very first time
As I stood inside the Ice House lacing up my boys skates, I realized that, in essence, I was strapping kitchen knives to their feet and sending them out on a solid sheet of ice on which they had no hope of staying upright.
I then noticed that all the other children, who were about to skate rings around us, were all wearing helmets.
Huh?
In all fairness it has been approximately 20 years since I last wore skates. But I guess I should have seen the whole helmet thing coming.
Bad mom!
Truth be told our skating adventure had been a spur-of-the-moment decision made by a harried mom – me! in the middle of a “teacher work day.”
For those of you unfamiliar with teacher work days – they are days in which teachers need their students to stay at home so that they can work on report cards and end of quarter teacherly duties.
In mom-speak, teacher work days are “oh-my-God-another-weekday-off-while-my-husband-works-what-on-earth-are-we-going-to-do” days.
So after making homemade pancakes for breakfast, hosting a play date, breaking up a fight, meeting dad out for lunch, and ending at least 17 arguments, I was out of options --- so ice skating seemed like a pretty reasonable idea.
It was not until I had the boys laced into their skates that I considered the fact that I only had two hands for my three kids. Oh and did I mention I am as coordinated as a rhinoceros on skates?
But I took a deep breath, made sure my iPhone was in my pocket (we needed pictures of this event!), decided to give 3-year old Ryan the “benefit” of holding my shaky hand, and instructed Brendan and Colin to follow us while holding on to the sides of the rink.
You know, I kinda forgot just how slippery ice can be!
As the expert skaters, some of whom were no more than 5, whizzed by us, Ryan began to lose his footing. With typical “momma bear” strength I caught hold of him and balanced myself against the wall. I then instructed Brendan and Colin to smile for a picture. (as if I could ever forget this day)!
With sweat beads forming along the bridge of my nose, I decided our human train would continue to limp along until we made it ALL AROUND THE RINK!
After we passed the last “exit” Ryan began crying. “I don’t want to do this anymore!”
“Honey, we just got here,” I say, trying my best to put on my old Girl Scout smile.
“It’s cold, my feet hurt, it’s slippery!”
His crying gets LOUDER.
AND LOUDER.
Now the sweat beads have moved from my nose to my back.
My ankles start to hurt.
“Hey, mom if I fell and someone skated over my finger, do you think it would be cut off,” says Brendan in the middle of the melee.
WHAT?
OH MY GOD! MAYBE!
WE HAVE GOT TO GET OFF THIS ICE!
Approximately five minutes later we have made our way around the rink and reach the exit.
Brendan and Colin want to keep skating.
But I just can’t see sending them out alone wearing their knife shoes and facing the whizzing finger cutting expert skaters.
Ryan, on the other hand, has had enough. We narrowly escape a trip to the ER when I turn around and find him trying to take off his own knife shoes.
Finally, with Ryan safely in his sneakers, I instruct Colin to sit with him while I take Brendan around the ice. Next it’s Colin’s turn.
By the time we finish our once-around, I am ready for a nap and an ankle transplant.
But the boys love it!
They are getting bolder!
So, I decide to sit with Ryan, allowing Brendan and Colin to skate by themselves, as long as they stay close to the exit door.
With one eye on the ice and the other on my phone, I begin texting the few photos I took of our escapade.
In fact, I’m feeling pretty proud of myself for pulling off this skating feat.
And then the phone rings.
It’s my sister, who in addition to parenting three boys, is also a pediatrician.
I know exactly why she is calling.
She saw my text and my cute pictures and she thinks I’m an amazing mom!
“Hi,” I say. “We are still at the rink.”
“Why aren’t your boys wearing helmets,” she scolds.
“Because at the 0.000001 miles per hour that they were traveling, falling on their heads, is the least of my concerns,” I say defensively.
A half an hour later, we are in the car with all our fingers, sans head injuries, and big smiles on our faces.
Despite the dangers we faced, we tried out best, stuck together, and had fun. And isn’t that what life is all about?
- But next time I’ll bring the helmets!
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