Archer is learning to skate! He has been asking for lessons for a very long time, probably years at this point. And though I am a huge skating person (for those that don’t know, I used to figure skate and I love hockey, though I’ve never played), I have been putting it off.

Confession time: I do not want to be a hockey mom. Nothing about it interests me. The money, early mornings, cold rinks, expensive equipment that they’re constantly growing out of and did I mention the cold ice rinks? Wrestling in and out of skates, pads, helmets and layers upon layers of clothing.

It’s just so much work.

But … we caved and signed him up for skating lessons that started last month. He missed one week because Maverick was sick and very contagious, so we had to all stay home. But I think he’s doing quite well! Yesterday was his fourth lesson and he was skating all on his very own! Now, calling it skating is pushing it a little. He was moving forward on the ice while standing on skates. I was so proud that I found a few little visiting tears in my eyes, freezing toes aside. Watching my child want something so badly, seeing his perseverance break through the frustration and bring him to his feet over and over again. It has been magical. I want it for him and I know that both Brad and I will be his number 1 fans forever and for always.

It still doesn’t mean that I want to be a hockey mom.

That’s kind of how being a parent is though, isn’t it?

I don’t want to wipe the boogers or clean the puke (why, oh why, do I have to be the one to clean the puke? I blame Brad and his weak gag reflex.), but I do it. I also didn’t want to be awake every twenty minutes to two hours last night either, but take that up with my youngest, please? All he would say is “Mama. Ouch.” Over and over. Helpful, thanks Maverick, can we go back to sleep now? Why must you come up with these things when your dad is out of town?

Back to skating.

I’m sure that my parents never particularly wanted to drive me to early morning skating practices or pay the exorbitant ice time fees, but they did. Because I wanted it. The problem I have with Archer going all the way–he wants to play hockey for the Canucks when he grows up, of course–is that he wants to do everything! He wants to play softball, continue soccer and swimming, learn how to play lacrosse, and I swear if I made up a sport he’d want to play that, too. Get him a broomstick and he’ll be next in line to learn how to play Quidditch! Where do we draw the line and help him pick something and stick with it? I don’t really have an answer, other than to say not yet.

He will continue learning to skate, for now. And hockey after that as long as his interest is there. But I will be crossing my fingers that this natural little athlete of mine with lean into soccer or one of the other many sports he’s into and veer away from the ice!

Sincerely, this always cold mama,

Anya