I have to say, it was fun. Really, really fun. We moms stood in our team's box and would watch each line change. If our child hit the ice, then it was our turn to play.
Nobody kept score, but of course we let the kids win. For me, the only number that mattered was zero, as in I didn't fall once. Not easy when you have tiny hockey players frequently falling in front of you. And did I mention I've gone skating exactly once in the last fifteen years, and was wearing borrowed skates because mine have disappeared? And they were hockey skates, not figure skates.
My favorite moment came at the end of our third or fourth shift on the ice. As we were skating back to our respective boxes, I said, "Good skating, AJ."
He then skated up to me, said, "I want a hug," and wrapped his arms around my waist.
Assuming AJ will want to continue playing hockey next year, I definitely want to invest in a pair of hockey skates of my own. Some padding would be nice, too. And definitely a helmet of my own. Oh yes, and a stick that's about a foot shorter and shoots right (Jeff shoots left.) Hmmm... this is starting to sound expensive.
A cool side note to this story: when I discovered my skates were missing in (in)action, I posted on Facebook that I was looking to borrow a pair of skates. I ended up with three offers within about 20 minutes. Gotta love social media and friends who understand what it takes to be a hockey mom.
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