You would too if this blog belonged to you. Thanks Lesley Gore.
I do my best to keep my proverbial stick on the ice and write about hockey, but today is different. My Spawn turns 10. I have no clue how the woman who can't keep plants or fish alive longer than a few months has managed to grow a kid into double digits, and years not months at that.
Don't worry I'm not about to go all mushy or describe the vivid details of Spawn's entry into the world. Heck, I couldn't even watch the birth videos in pre-natal classes.
It seems hockey permeates every facet of my life; bringing life into the world was no exception.
The weekend before Spawn arrived I was on bed rest - doctor's orders. He gave me dispensation to do whatever needed doing before going to the hospital - get the crib, baby clothes, one last pre-baby meal, and a visit to Maple Leaf Gardens.
The Carlton Street Cashbox was set to host the final Leafs' game February 13th, 1999. In honour of the occasion an open house and skate was held the weekend before. Nothing short of being in hospital could keep me away. There I was, sitting in the fabled gold seats at Maple Leaf Gardens, staring forlornly at the ice I could not skate on.
A part of me hoped to give birth there - I'll do anything in pursuit of a good story - but it was not to be. Spawn waited a few days to appear. He was in hospital for a few days and I recall running into the lounge between feedings to watch that final game at the Gardens. I even talked the nurses into letting me take him in there to watch the last minutes of the final game.
The hockey connection doesn't stop there. Spawn came home from hospital on Alexander Mogilny's birthday, just in time to watch the first game at the Air Canada Centre.
It was new beginnings all around.