When my uncle gave me all of my cousin's old hockey equipment (reuse baby!) earlier this year, we jumped on the chance to enroll William in a Learn to Skate/Intro to Hockey program. I mean all the equipment fit perfectly so the only thing we had to pay for is the "course", we couldn't pass up the opportunity. Now luckily, the rink is down the road from us, but it is still crazy early in the morning. Saturdays at 7am and Sundays at 8am. 8am is not bad, but 7am is hard.
So this past weekend was the 4th week of hockey. He has been getting so much better every week. He went from refusing to even get on the ice to getting right out there and participating. Then this past Saturday we had a little regression. My husband took him solo because really, for me to drag the twins there that early and then make them wait an hour is pure torture...for me. But William had a melt down and is yelling at daddy and refuses to participate. When they get home, my husband is so frustrated he tells me I have to take him alone on Sunday. I'm doubtful that this is going to go well because I cannot go out on the ice with him like my husband does. Can you imagine a big fat pregnant woman out on the ice?
Sunday morning we head out to the rink. We get to the parking lot and I realize I have to carry the huge, heavy equipment bag across the street and inside. Great. So here I am waddling along the road as little kids whizzed by with their bags on wheels. Smart kids. Must get one of those. We make our way over to the locker rooms to get him geared up - all of which are packed with kids and parents. I squeeze my fatness in there and we make our way to an open spot on the benches. Here I am squatting and barely keeping my balance while unloading all this stuff and then trying to get it all on my 4 year old. After a few minutes I lost feeling in my feet and had to switch to kneeling instead. Eventually I lost all feeling in my legs as well. Oh and lets not forget the multiple times I was stepped on by other kids and hit in the head with equipment bags.
OK, we get him all set and we walk over to the ice. I am dreading this moment, fearful of the whining that is going to ensue because daddy isn't here to go out on the ice with him. Very much to my surprise, the exact opposite happened. The kid got out on the ice all by himself and never looked back. He participated in every drill and did awesome. I just stood behind the glass and watched. Which by the way, standing in a cold hockey rink for an hour at 35 weeks pregnant is not very smart. My feet, legs, everything really, were killing me by the time I was done. But it was all worth it, watching my little man out there. Look how cute!
So guess who will most likely be bringing him to future hockey sessions? It should get really interesting as I get closer to my due date.
Just call me hockey mom. :)