A day in the life

November 4th, 2011

Apparently, it doesn’t take much for me to go from being busy to feeling over-extended. Apparently, it takes about 4 hours a week. I very carefully chose the phrase “feeling over-extended” because I know I am not, in fact, over-extended; I am, however, a person who stumbles over transitions (please, do not try to talk to me about anything requiring a decision for the first ten minutes after I have walked in the door and for the love of god do not catch me in the driveway as I am stepping out of the car and try to talk to me about anything) and who needs a five-minute cushion – getting someplace in the nick of time stresses me out more than actually being late.

So the fall schedule of Small Boy’s Bambini hockey, the Boychen’s hockey school hockey, and my training at the hockey school has knocked me sideways far more than I ever would have guessed a four-hour a week job would. It’s not the four hours, so much as the craziness of those exact four hours.

Here, for example, is how Thursdays afternoons run around here: at 3:45 Small Boy and I need to leave for his Bambini hockey practice. It’s almost always possible for Boychen to stay with his grandparents, which is a relief because Small Boy and I drive to Hockey Rink 1 where he takes the ice at 4:45 for practice that runs to 6:10. At 5:00 I leave Small Boy at Hockey Rink 1 and drive to Hockey Rink 2, where I teach with the hockey school from 6:00 to 7:00. (Boychen doesn’t attend the Thursday session because it’s too late at night for him.) At some point between 6:00 and 6:30 I get a message from R confirming that he made it to Hockey Rink 1 and is taking Small Boy home. So far, R has always made it on time but we’ve worked out a Plan B for Small Boy to follow (basically go to the restaurant, order a plate of french fries and wait for Dada to show up) in the eventuality that he doesn’t get there on time. Which is totally going to happen one of these days.

About every other Saturday, Small Boy has a hockey game at Hockey Rink 3 or, heaven forbid in a whole other town, while Boychen and I have hockey school at Hockey Rink 1. Boychen and I go to hockey school, Small Boy and R go to the match, and when hockey school is over Boychen and I cut across town to catch the end of the match.

It’s kind of chaos; and now I understand why Fellow Hockey Family worked so hard to get their younger son into Bambinis with his older brother. Have any of you seen that Suburu commercial with the hockey mom to triplets? I laugh at the hockey mom of triplets, because her kids are all on the same team. Honey, I could do that in my sleep. The real challenge is having kids 3 years apart who will never end up on the same team and you have to be in two different places at the exact same time.

Once I’m there, though, and take a few deep breaths, and put on my skates and my trainer’s suit – yes, I have an Outfit – and get on the ice with the kids, it’s pretty good. In two weeks, Boy Who Can’t Even Stand On The Ice has been transformed into Boy Who Can Make It From One Side of the Rink to the Other. Last night, Boy Who Cried became Boy Who Played Pickup Hockey With Me. It’s good. I’m friendly with my fellow trainers and last night I had a drink with them after training. (Iced tea, because of all the driving.) Parents will wave me over and ask a question and I’ll tell you what: watching a kid let go of the supports and take four steps towards me, because I told him I knew he could do it, and because he believed me, is pretty awesome.

So life looks kind of like this right about now:

When’s March?