Athena's Mind

I’ve spent enough time in the school over the past week that the staff are beginning to know me by sight.  Part of the time that I’ve been there has been for volunteer purposes.  The other times?  For my son.  Apparently the transition into Grade 1 is not as smooth as I thought it would be .  We surpassed the “what to do for lunch dilemma” by choosing to have Thor Jr come home for lunch on Fridays.  All was well.  The worst, and hopefully last incident was earlier this week when I received a phone call.  Thor Jr. was extremely upset.  He had been crying steadily since recess.  By my watch that meant 45 minutes.  His only answer to “What’s wrong?” was “I miss my Mom”.  This has never happened before.  I went to see him at school.  Sure enough, he missed me.  Or so he says.  I suspect that when he’s 18, something will remind him of this day and he will burst forth with an explanation that we never would have figured out.  If he does that, that’s okay.  It’s genetic.  When I went to Kindergarten for the first day, I was terrified.  My teacher was all dressed in white.  I thought it was the dentist’s office and was scared shitless.  I was unable to convey this to my mother though, until I was about 18.  Suddenly my first day of Kindergarten hysterics made complete sense to her.  And so with this in mind, I understand that sometimes, children are unable to communicate their complete thoughts at the age of 5 or 6.  After many hugs, softly spoken words and a mail key to remind him of me (it was either that or my sock – I had left everything except my keys and cellphone at home), Thor Jr. was calm enough to return to class for the day.

Contrast this with Little Athena.  We went for a play date today and as we were leaving the house, she asked if I was staying at the play date or if I was volunteering at the school.  I said I was staying.  She asked me not to.  She asked me to please go and volunteer at the school and said she didn’t want me to go to the play date.  Did I mention she’s 3? Apparently preschool is not nearly as traumatic as Grade 1.  Who knew?

Thor Jr. started Hockey this week.  He’s not in a league (Tangent: do you have any idea how much it costs to register your kid in hockey?  $500!  Holy hockey sticks batmom! And that doesn’t include equipment! /tangent), but we’ve signed him up for something called Tot Hockey which is supposed to teach him the fundamentals of hockey.  Then, next year we’ll bite the cash bullet and register him with the local league.

Thor Jr. had his first class this week.  It was my first experience with hockey equipment.  Specifically, strapping a 6 year old into all this equipment.  In a limited timeframe.  It took us 20+ minutes to get him undressed and then geared up.  Shoulder pads, shin pads, elbow pads, jock/cup, garters, pants, socks, skates, helmet – oh my!  And don’t forget the jersey!  It was at this point that I decided it was a heck of a lot easier to be a soccer mom than to be a hockey mom.  He did look great though!  And he stepped out on to the ice without a problem.  It’s been a few months since he’s been on skates so I wasn’t sure if he’d land on his butt within the first 2 strides or not.  He thoroughly enjoyed the session and can’t wait to go back next week.

Which brings us back to the equipment-strapping-in again.  And the fact that it’s easier to be a soccer mom and carry around a bag of soccer balls and pylons then it is to strap garters onto hockey socks.  Wait a sec – before you hit that comment button and inform me about the new jocks that have velcro to hook up hockey socks, yeah, we know about those.  But Thor thought we should go with the garters.  Too bad Thor isn’t there to strap Thor Jr into everything!  Next year (or 2 sessions from now, depending on how long I last with this) we’ll get him the jock/velcro/sock combo.  Of course, with all of this equipment comes a mother-honkin’-sized bag.  It’s the same size as the team bag for soccer.  Hats off to you Hockey Moms!   I don’t know how you do it.