Hockey Mom’s Anonymous

My name is Sally and I am a hockey mom.

I am a hockey mom of a female player, and yes there is a difference.  Think about it, a maximum of twenty PMSing females all in one tiny locker room or on the ice together.

I fondly think back to when I was growing up and my dad was surrounded by females. When we started our cycles we were all supposed to track our cycles on the family calendar. We all had our first initial on the date the fun was supposed to start, sounds a little odd doesn’t it?

At first I thought it was just so we would be prepared; much later I learned the true reason behind it; to let my dad know who he couldn’t tease when, to let him know who he might have to walk on egg shells around.  Seriously, sometimes I don’t understand my hormones so how the hell can I expect anyone else to?  PMS is real, now if only in hockey the focus could be on how to use PMS on the ice to your team’s advantage. When PMSing I want my daughter to take the example from “Water Boy” every opponent on the ice should be that one person who really ticked her off and she wants to take their head off.

With boys you can rip into one player, in front of the team, and have no effect on the other members of the team. Girls, especially when there are hormones in play, you are going to impact the whole team. They are not going to focus on the game or drill at hand, they are going to focus on their teammate and how bad they feel for them.

As a hockey mom how does one survive?  I’ve decided maybe we need a survival program.

The Seven Step Hockey Mom Program

Step 1

As a hockey mom, my role is NOT to be the coach, the referee nor the player because I have never laced-up a pair of hockey skates. My role is to be my daughter’s #1 fan.

Step 2

With that being said, as a hockey mom it is important that I take the hockey goggles off. There is no need to put my daughter on a pedestal. She is a part of a team and the success or failure of the team is not going to be dependent on one player; it will depend on the team as a whole. There is no need to compare her to any other player, she does not walk on water and I’ll never spend hours talking to you about how great she is. She is human, she is not perfect, and there is always room for growth and improvement.

Step 3

As a hockey mom one must realize that hockey isn’t the only thing as a parent I’m dealing with. Honestly, being normal, it is quite likely many of us are struggling with one demon or another (gotta admit I’m a Supernatural fan, I see demons often, sometimes I think I live with them J). But if you are living the dream, the happily-ever-after, you need to keep in mind the majority of the people around you are most likely struggling with demons, sometimes on a daily basis and as a hockey mom during the next season you may be spending a lot of time with these people. Be considerate, be kind.

Step 4

As a hockey mom often I’m required to relinquish my calendar, the family’s calendar, to hockey, having the schedule revolve around what practice, game or road trip is next on the agenda. I’m thankful that there is also a hockey dad in the picture so we can divide and conquer but that doesn’t take away the guilt for not being there. The guilt is two-sided; not being at the game or guilt from not being at a family function. I am so happy I only have one hockey player, having two or more must be real tough. I feel for the parent who has to go it all alone, I understand the sacrifices they have made. I have to concede that most of the time I am powerless over the schedule. I have to accept that it is okay, and not selfish, to dream of that day when once again I will have control over the calendar. To dream of the road trip that has nothing to do with hockey.

Step 5

As a hockey mom my role is to provide a little sanity when things feel like they are getting a little insane, to ensure there is balance between the hockey and non-hockey life, to focus on the life lessons, to be the realist and at times (not as often as before) to be the shoulder to cry on (remember she is female the tears will come, the emotions are always there and as explained above sometimes a little more intense than others.)

Step 6

As a hockey mom I can’t take anything personal, if after a practice or game she doesn’t want to talk to me, that’s okay; there will be time for us to have a heart-to-heart later.  Although, I do dread those times when there is a long silent ride leaving the rink.

Step 7

As a hockey mom I need to not lose sight of that person I was before there was hockey. I will be just a mom, first, last and always. I need to remember that the general public will not give a damn of what my daughter does on the ice and they are just going to tune me out if all I can talk about is hockey. I don’t want to be a fanatic. I want to live, feel and enjoy this great big world. I want to have adventures besides hockey but sadly sometimes step 4 gets in the way.  Please keep this in mind if I have to turn you down on an adventure, don’t take it personally.

The bottom line is that even though I didn’t sign up for this program my daughter is a hockey player, she created the hockey mom. With hockey I must practice unconditional love, even though I may not always agree with the demands the sport may require from her, I’ll support her no matter what. Hockey will always be her choice, not mine.

On a good day, I’m loving the adventure.  On a bad day, the countdown clock is ticking to when I no longer have to be a hockey mom.

In the end, I can only hope there will be many fond and sometimes crazy memories of fellow parents and players, and new friends we have made along the way, that we will always share, all because I was a hockey mom. Maybe there should be one more step, as a hockey mom it’s my role to ensure that happens, to put the puck between the pipes, it’s really the only goal that matters. 

The Pink Line

I may of lost a couple of items when my provider switched from  google based mail to something different but at least I did have a backup.  Not sure if photos carried over. This one I know didn't carry over, it was written awhile ago. I've gotten away from blogging/writing but hope to change that in the future.

In a little over a week, Austin and I will be making another trip to Chicago to participate in a couple of research studies. We will be ending the speech and language study we began in May and starting the toolbox study (an app to measure cognition).  Our days of participating in any clinical drug studies ended abruptly when in December 2013 he developed a severe case of Hemolytic Anemia and they had to remove his spleen.  I’m thankful that there have been other studies, not drug related, that we have had the opportunity to participate in now that he is once again healthy, even with no spleen. 

Austin did his first study, on speech and language, over 13 years ago, with the wonderful staff at the Waisman Center at the University of Wisconsin-Madison.  It was a five year study and he learned to travel by planes and taxis, visit unknown locations, stay at hotels and interact with strangers. When we began I told him he would have the opportunity to help others learn more about fragile X which would in turn help others just like him; who would have guessed he likes to make a difference, he likes to contribute.  What he also likes is how the staff make him feel important, how they build his self-esteem. 

Since I’ve participated in a few research studies myself I know how grueling the testing can be. I’ll admit in one such IQ test towards the end of the day I started thinking about how I could shorten a test, i.e.,  a pre-determined number of wrong answers in a row will easily end a section, shorten the testing, testing reminded me of an six hour final exam.

For Austin, early on, he’d naturally bomb out early, but with every year there was growth, there was measurable improvement even if it was slight.  Nevertheless he works very hard and does his best no matter what’s required.

When we travel he loves the one-on-one time he spends with mom. As he has aged we’ve grown our research experience a little not staying isolated within a hotel room or testing facility.  Back in the early research study days I’d try to minimize the unknowns, stick to a routine which included a visit to the pool, renting a movie and eating at the hotel.

In May, with our first part of the speech and language study, we arrived in the late afternoon on Thursday a day before our study activities began. Like a carrot at the end of a stick, to encourage Austin to leave the hotel, I dangled before him a trip to the Disney Store on Michigan Avenue. For me it would be sinful to visit Chicago and not be out and about. Since we were staying close to the “L” by the Willis Tower I knew this would be no small adventure.  We opted for the hotel by the “L” because I wanted to avoid the extreme parking fees downtown and simply parked at Rush University/Medical Center since it’s a block from the Pink Line.

The carrot worked well, we took the Orange line to get us a little closer to Michigan Avenue and did a lot of walking. It was an interesting walk since he identified all the different logos he recognized and often told me while we were walking arm-in-arm that he would protect me. Now that could have been a little of his anxiety sneaking through or just his instructions from Dad, “Take good care of Mom, be good for her.” It was quite the adventure with a stop for dinner on the way back, we were wandering around Chi Town for over three hours before we hopped back on The Pink Line to head back to our hotel. He did remarkably well.

Friday morning after breakfast at the hotel we hoped back on The Pink Line to head to Rush to begin the study.

Now I’ll get to the nitty gritty about why I called this “The Pink Line”.  Accessing the “L” is not a favorite activity for Austin, lots of open stairs and it takes him time to two foot each one (mom on the other hand could probably go up and down them twice for the amount of time it takes Austin to make one trip up or down).  Now I could use the elevator when available but on the off chance it might not be available I’d rather have him always do the stairs.

To get to Rush from where we were it was a pretty easy ride, maybe only four or five stops. None of those stops were along the Loop. Our trip was not too congested since we were heading out of the downtown area when most of the commuters were heading in.

The biggest bump in the journey was the stop at Polk Street, our exit for Rush.  Austin before exiting noticed a gap between the train and the platform and froze in place.  That’s when I had no choice but to push, and not too gently.  I had visions of us riding on The Pink Line stranded like Tom Hanks in the movie “The Terminal” in what would feel like forever and ever.

In the past weeks I’ve thought a lot about The Pink Line.  The Pink Line is a part of many people’s lives for one reason or another they are stuck, they have defined their limits and let those limits define their life.  Often they have a very negative impact, they take away the wonders and opportunities available each and every day. After all, when you are six feet above ground you’ve been given a gift that should not be wasted.

So if you find someone who is stuck on The Pink Line give them a little push, help them close the gap and take a step forward. Understand their fears, their sorrow, whatever is keeping them trapped but support them in a way that enables them to move past their limits. Sometimes we can push ourselves but sometimes we need a little help from our friends.