It seems like more and more people are finding my blog via searches for hockey parents, hockey horror stories, good hockey parent, kids hockey, etc.
With that in mind, that's the direction this blog will take and I hope you enjoy travelling along the path with me. I'm also looking for stories so if there is one that you'd like to tell but don't have anyone to tell it, please email me:
minorhockeytalkie@gmail.com
I'm looking forward to helping you tell your stories.
Showing posts with label good hockey parent stories. Show all posts
Showing posts with label good hockey parent stories. Show all posts
Monday, January 11, 2010
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Withdrawal Symptoms
The NHL playoffs start tonight but I'm going through post-season withdrawal symptoms.
There is no shortage of hockey in my life since I'm covering two teams from a purely professional viewpoint. It makes no difference to me whether the St. Louis Blues or the Vancouver Canucks win their first round series.
What has altered things is being able to sleep in on Sunday mornings, not lugging hockey gear when I'm in heels, and no longer being a slave to last-minute game changes. I miss dragging me, my kid, and a giant, cumbersome bag out the door in the dark.
Most of all I miss spending time with people who don't care that my top is inside-out, that I'm not wearing makeup, or that I didn't brush my hair. Sleep deprivation fades quickly when you're greeted by smiling friends, especially when a nap is possible later on in the day.
Birds chirping as a new day dawns are a welcome sign of spring to those in northern climates. I don't begrudge the birdies but hearing them as I head out the door makes me melancholy.
Their spring song signals the end of house league hockey season.
Nothing though, can end the friendships found behind the boards.
There is no shortage of hockey in my life since I'm covering two teams from a purely professional viewpoint. It makes no difference to me whether the St. Louis Blues or the Vancouver Canucks win their first round series.
What has altered things is being able to sleep in on Sunday mornings, not lugging hockey gear when I'm in heels, and no longer being a slave to last-minute game changes. I miss dragging me, my kid, and a giant, cumbersome bag out the door in the dark.
Most of all I miss spending time with people who don't care that my top is inside-out, that I'm not wearing makeup, or that I didn't brush my hair. Sleep deprivation fades quickly when you're greeted by smiling friends, especially when a nap is possible later on in the day.
Birds chirping as a new day dawns are a welcome sign of spring to those in northern climates. I don't begrudge the birdies but hearing them as I head out the door makes me melancholy.
Their spring song signals the end of house league hockey season.
Nothing though, can end the friendships found behind the boards.
Friday, April 3, 2009
More Proof Hockey Rules My Life
My son's hockey team will experience their first tournament this weekend. Parents, kids, and coaches are excited, especially since it's a chance to face some rival teams from our league.
One of the players, our captain, moved last weekend. His mother has been so busy working nights, unpacking, and doing "mum stuff" that - gasp - she hasn't checked her email for a week. I laughed because I've gone longer without brushing my teeth than without reading my email.
This however, was no time for chuckles. She asked what the schedule was so I filled her in - season end breakfast at 9AM, then game 1 at 1PM, game 2 at 5PM.
She: "Game 2? Both games on Saturday? Oh no, then we can't do it. Saturday's my only free day."
Now it was my turn to panic.
Me: "He has to be there! He's our top scorer!"
She: "I can't give up the whole day!"
Apologies to Blackadder fans, I have a cunning plan.
Me: "If you can get him to the breakfast, he can stay with us for the weekend."
She: "Really?"
Me: "You have to ask? Consider it done."
She: "Well, your boy will come out here one weekend."
Whew. Another minor hockey crisis averted.
This defies logic. In between spending two full days at the rink, I have to cover another tournament and still find time to write four articles by Monday. There's also the matter of tracking down a few people to get quotes.
Why am I bringing another person into my home to look after in the middle of all this?
Why not? Hockey players, teammates, know all about looking after each other.
In hockey, friendships don't end when the arena doors close behind us.
One of the players, our captain, moved last weekend. His mother has been so busy working nights, unpacking, and doing "mum stuff" that - gasp - she hasn't checked her email for a week. I laughed because I've gone longer without brushing my teeth than without reading my email.
This however, was no time for chuckles. She asked what the schedule was so I filled her in - season end breakfast at 9AM, then game 1 at 1PM, game 2 at 5PM.
She: "Game 2? Both games on Saturday? Oh no, then we can't do it. Saturday's my only free day."
Now it was my turn to panic.
Me: "He has to be there! He's our top scorer!"
She: "I can't give up the whole day!"
Apologies to Blackadder fans, I have a cunning plan.
Me: "If you can get him to the breakfast, he can stay with us for the weekend."
She: "Really?"
Me: "You have to ask? Consider it done."
She: "Well, your boy will come out here one weekend."
Whew. Another minor hockey crisis averted.
This defies logic. In between spending two full days at the rink, I have to cover another tournament and still find time to write four articles by Monday. There's also the matter of tracking down a few people to get quotes.
Why am I bringing another person into my home to look after in the middle of all this?
Why not? Hockey players, teammates, know all about looking after each other.
In hockey, friendships don't end when the arena doors close behind us.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Hockey Talkie *NOT* About Hockey
Today marked was my son's final Sunday 6:30AM practice of the season. Some of the mums met up later on for coffee, cake, and conversation,or so we claimed.
If we're really honest with ourselves, the get together was because we'll miss getting out the door and back in before the sun rises all winter long. Don't be fooled by the matching goalie pads and purse; lugging hockey bags, sticks, and juggling cups of coffee from car to dressing room isn't as glamourous as it appears.
Instead of a posse of paparazzi, the first ones at the arena are greeted by things others don't experience. The rumble of the zamboni waking from its slumber. Siblings sleepily staring at the clock. A dressing room that no longer smells like the 300 people who used it the day before. Seeing breath float over ice until they become one. Being the first set of hands to touch the door latch, springing eager kids onto glistening ice.
This group has been blessed by a fantastic group of parents. Some, like DK are larks. Some, like me, are night owls. Some, like AA, are quiet. Some, like CdlA, are just a touch louder. So many differences, so much too learn.
The most important thing learned this season is that the teacher, the nurse, the restauranteur, the angel, and the writer don't need kids playing a game as an excuse to get together.
They can talk twig and biscuit like nobody's business but it's what happens far from the ice that makes parents a team.
If we're really honest with ourselves, the get together was because we'll miss getting out the door and back in before the sun rises all winter long. Don't be fooled by the matching goalie pads and purse; lugging hockey bags, sticks, and juggling cups of coffee from car to dressing room isn't as glamourous as it appears.
Instead of a posse of paparazzi, the first ones at the arena are greeted by things others don't experience. The rumble of the zamboni waking from its slumber. Siblings sleepily staring at the clock. A dressing room that no longer smells like the 300 people who used it the day before. Seeing breath float over ice until they become one. Being the first set of hands to touch the door latch, springing eager kids onto glistening ice.
This group has been blessed by a fantastic group of parents. Some, like DK are larks. Some, like me, are night owls. Some, like AA, are quiet. Some, like CdlA, are just a touch louder. So many differences, so much too learn.
The most important thing learned this season is that the teacher, the nurse, the restauranteur, the angel, and the writer don't need kids playing a game as an excuse to get together.
They can talk twig and biscuit like nobody's business but it's what happens far from the ice that makes parents a team.
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