Another hockey tourna... zzzz...

I'm running out of clever, insightful things to say about hockey. So let's just go with the abbreviated report:

 

It was a busy weekend of hockey, with Sydney playing in a tournament in Moose Lake.

 

 

And it was very cold. Very, very cold.

 

The end.

What? I should say more? At least enough to match up to the photos?

Okay. Sydney played her first game kind of like she played soccer. She was there, but not actively participating. It makes it a challenge as a parent to know what to watch. We could watch the action of the game on one part of the rink. Or we could watch our daughter, who was off skating somewhere else in her own little world.

Jeff and I were stumped. This was certainly nothing we'd ever had to address with AJ. And so we took turns - Jeff first at home while helping her out of her gear, and me later at the rink right before the second game. We told her she needed to help her team. She needed to try and skate hard. She needed to try and touch the puck. We didn't care about how many goals she scored. We just wanted her to do her best.

"But hockey's all about having fun," was her confidant answer to me.

"Yes it is. You're right. But the harder you try, the more fun you're going to have. Trust me," I told her.

"Can I get a treat from the snack shack now?" She asked.

"After the game, IF you play hard."

Game two started. Whether it was the pep talks or the bribes, it worked.

 

Sydney skated hard and paid attention to the game. And when all was said and done, she'd managed to score three goals.

 

And after each, she'd skate by the glass and blow us a kiss.

 

No fist pumps. No dropping to one knee. No stick held high in the air. She blew us a kiss.

 

Just one more example of how boys and girls are different.

 

Game three was Sunday. We did the pep talk again. We offered a bribe of stopping somewhere for lunch afterward. She wasn't quite as good as she'd been in game two, but still much better than the first game.

 

And then came the most exciting part for her. The end of the tournament metal ceremony.

 

 

They butchered the pronunciation of her name (almost rhymed with gazelle), but she still knew it was her turn.

 

 

Guess what's was stored safely in her jewelry box overnight so she could wear it to school today as a necklace. One more difference between girls and boys. 

A different hockey experience

We are in the midst of a 20-day span during which we have just three days that don't involve a hockey practice or game for one or both of the kids. Last night was one of those three nights. So we celebrated. By going to a hockey game. 

It was a UMD Bulldogs hockey game, to be exact. But we weren't there just to watch the hockey game. It was a certain pre-game moment that was the highlight.

Sydney and the rest of the kindergartners at her school got to sing the National Anthem. That's her on the far right in the back row.

Here's a sample of how they sounded. To keep the file size small enough to upload, I'm only letting you hear the first half, before they tried to hit any of the high notes. You're welcome.

Our seats were right behind where the kids were standing, but thankfully I heard  another parent mentioning that the kids would have their backs to us, and so I walked to another area of the arena and asked an usher if I could stand in the aisle until the kids finished singing.

From that vantage point, I was able to catch some excited hockey fans who couldn't wait for the game to start.

As if he wasn't already enough of a die hard Bulldog's fan, getting to watch the game from what's normally the student section has sealed the deal. I'm pretty sure AJ is going to want to go to college at UMD just so he can again stand in the student section.

Since UMD students are still on winter break, the college knew the student section would be largely empty, and so let the kindergarten teachers reserve a huge block of tickets for all of the families. The bench seats weren't particularly comfortable, but the kids didn't mind. They wanted to stand - as close to the glass as possible.

There were enough older siblings among the crowd, that AJ had plenty of friends to hang out with. And that's how I noticed a big difference between kindergartners and second graders. If a particularly intense moment happened near where the kindergartners were standing, the kids would duck.

Whereas if it happened near the older kids, they would bang on the glass and cheer even louder.

It was a fun night for all, and simply an incredible opportunity for these kids. Certainly one they will never forget.

A show of hands

When my children walked out the door to the school bus Wednesday, they were wearing - collectively - four gloves.

By Thursday morning, they still had - collectively - four hands. But just one glove.

How does this happen?

They were both sure they'd worn their gloves home. One hinted that Dad might be at fault. Until I suggested I would share this suspicion with him. No, no no. Suddenly Dad was exonerated.

As long as it takes for my kids to get into their snowpants, coat, hat and boots... it takes even longer to find their gloves. What's wrong with this picture?

The two of them seemed rather unconcerned as I looked around the house and through the closet.

The TV went off.

I had their attention.

AJ didn't believe me that his gloves weren't in his backpack. We pulled everything out. There were no gloves lurking in the bottom. It should be noted that the one glove I had found is actually one of the back up "super hero" gloves that - in desperation - I'd had him wear on Wednesday when we couldn't find his second black/red glove. Remember the black/red gloves? I bought two pairs (four gloves) at the beginning of the season, and we no longer have even one complete set.

"I always put them in my backpack," he insisted.

"Why can't you put them in your pockets like most people do?"

He shrugged. No answer. I sent him to the closet to find another pair - anything - he could wear, as I turned to help his sister.

We looked by the fireplace, the toy table and the other spots where either Gus' takes things to chew, or where we toss the things we've rescued from him.

No gloves.

"Hey, Sydney," AJ called as he continued to dig through the bin in the closet. "I found your hat."

"We're not looking for hats," I reminded him. "Gloves. Focus on gloves."

And that's when I spotted buried amidst some toys, a rolled together pair of Sydney's old gloves. They're a very dirty shade of lavender with white snowflakes.

"Here, put these on," I said, "And let's get you zipped." We were down to just a couple minutes until the bus would arrive.

"But these have a hole in them!" Sydney protested, as she pulled on the first glove.

Yes, Gus had gotten to it. But it wasn't a big hole, and I had no other options.

"It's better than nothing." I started zipping her coat. And that's when I noticed the bulge in her pockets. "What's this?" I pointed.

"It's my gloves!" Sydney excitedly declared. "They were in my pocket!"

Off with the lavender gloves. On with the good polka dot gloves.

"AJ," I turned back to him, dirty lavender gloves in hand. "You've got two choices. You can wear a mismatched pair, or you can wear these."

AJ stared in horror, but finally decided matching girl gloves were better than a super hero glove on one hand, and a black/red glove on the other.

"AJ," Sydney taunted, "At least it's not angel wings."

"Sydney! That was mean," I immediately scolded.

"What?" AJ asked. He hadn't heard.

"Don't repeat it, Sydney. Just say you're sorry."

"Sorry AJ."

The bus came into view.

"Let's go. The bus is here."

AJ headed out the door. Stuffing those gloves in his pocket.

"Oh, no you don't," I called after him. "You're wearing them."

"Fine, Mom," he muttered as he continued to trudge to the end of the driveway. As he climbed on the bus, I noted his hands were still bare.

I meant to have a talk with him last night. But by the time I got home, he'd magically located both missing gloves - one at school, one in his hockey bag. (I can't believe I didn't think to check in his hockey bag!)

And so they're all set for this morning.

Except they probably won't need them.

Their school has already announced classes will start two hours late due to icy roads. All the districts around us have shut down for the day, so I suspect ours may, too.

But at least we all have gloves.

I'm just glad it isn't titled "Santa pooped"

AJ had a chance to write, illustrate and voice a story in his computer class. The first I knew about it was when I received an email from his teacher that contained a link to view the finished product.

Except I didn't notice that it was a story, or that it says "Click to view my tale". I was too distracted by what AJ'd written.

• Click to view my tale.
• 

My first reaction (assumption) was that AJ had been screwing around and trying to be funny, and his teacher was so frustrated by his 7-year-old sense of humor that she sent me a copy to see what he'd done.

Thankfully, before I responded, I decided to hear AJ's side of the story. He was quite incredulous that I thought it said Santa pooped.

"Popped, Mom. It says Santa Popped."

Oh, that's so much better!

He then pointed out that if I clicked on it, I could hear the whole story. (If clicking on the image above doesn't make it play, click on this link instead.) Be patient, it takes a few seconds for the story to actually play.

Once it started, AJ got upset. Apparently the pages are in reverse order so the story doesn't make sense.

I didn't mind. I was still too busy being grateful that his misspelling involved a missing 'p', and not a missing 'o'.

From president to pawn store customer in two short years

AJ's been watching too much TV with his dad lately. How can I tell? Because the boy who would be president, until he decided he only wanted to be a general, and then downgraded further to soldier, and then aspired to play professional hockey but then changed his mind because he didn't like the fighting (more specifically, he didn't like the blood that resulted from the fighting) and so wanted to be a major league baseball player instead... well, recently announced a new career back-up plan.

"Mom," he told me on the way home from hockey one day, "I've got an idea of what I'm going to do if I'm not good enough for the NHL or MLB."

"Oh, yeah? What's that?" I asked.

"I'm going to move to Las Vegas."

(Silence for a moment as I tried to guess his logic.)

"And what would you do in Las Vegas?" I had to ask.

"Pawn Stars," he answered, over-enunciating each word as if this were the most obvious answer in the world. Moms can be so slow. "They have a lot of pawn stores in Las Vegas."

"You want to work at a pawn shop?"

"No," he clarified, still amazed that I didn't get it. "I'm going to bring them stuff."

"Ooooohhhh," I answered as if I finally understood. "And where are you going to get the stuff?"

"I'm going to find it."

"Where are you going to find it? Are you going to buy it at one store and then try to sell it for more money at a different store?"

"I'm just going to find it," he answered, clearly unfazed by this one missing detail in his business model. "I'm going to be a finder of cool things."

I think it's what happens when you watch one too many episodes of Pawn Stars. Thank goodness he doesn't realize we have pawn shops locally.

Tough kids

Normally I'm not the overly suspicious type. But when Company A's system that's worked for years suddenly develops a problem, and no one apparently can figure out how to solve it other than to suggest I start using a product of Company B with which they conveniently have an alliance, I can't help but wonder.

Apparently that's what's been going on with Blogger these past few days. There's suddenly an issue with uploading photos through the web browser I use. But, if I switch over to the Google Chrome browser, all works just fine. How convenient.

Enough about that... we are a week into January, which means we are living and breathing hockey. It started last Thursday. And if the hectic schedule wasn't enough of a slap in the face to remind us, the frigid cold temperatures did the trick.  

Yes, it really was as cold as it looked. And the windchill made it even worse. But as I watched the long shadows created by AJ and his teammates as they skated the length of that cool gray surface, I couldn't help but be proud. After nights like these, it's no wonder the kids in this part of the state are so tough.

And it's one more reason I don't mind the way this sport takes over our lives for more than a third of the year. Any activity that so enthralls my son that he doesn't notice how incredibly cold it was that night - that's an activity I want him to be part of.

Sydney had practice, too, that night.

She noticed the cold.

It turns out, though, she had a couple valid excuses for needing a break. Her skates were two sizes too small. (Apparently this is a rite of passage in our house. We unintentionally inflicted the same agony on AJ his first season, too.) And, she also was probably fighting the early stages of a virus - which didn't fully rear its ugly head until Saturday night. So yes, she played in two hockey games Saturday before finally crashing on the couch with a nasty fever that lasted for 48 hours

But all seems better today. She'll be heading back to school, and so far no one else seems to have caught it.

Yes, they're tough kids. Thank goodness!

Puzzled

"I've got to get ready, ready.

I've got to get ready, ready.

I need my cane. I need my legs.

No can do."

It's quite entertaining to watch (and listen to) Sydney as she does puzzles. She doesn't just fit pieces together. She creates an entire drama, and sometimes even songs, involving the subjects of the puzzle.

In this case, it was a puzzle with ballerinas, and they apparently needed her to put the puzzle together so they could perform their recital.

 Whereas I've always focused on putting a puzzle's frame together first and then filling in the rest, Sydney's rule is that "the star" must be assembled first. She seriously asked me to remove the head of another, smaller dancer who I inadvertently assembled while working on the frame. 

100-piece puzzles are her favorite. It would take her forever to finish one on her own, which makes them a fun Mommy/Sydney activity. Except for the fact that Sydney also recently talked Jeff into doing a puzzle with her, and for some reason he thought it'd be cool to proclaim "Connector!" in a loud whisper every time he hooked two pieces together. So of course Sydney now thinks Mommy should do the same.

At least there was a moment of justice last night. I'd already done this particular puzzle with Sydney three times in the last two days, so when she asked to do it again, I suggested she ask Daddy to help her. They'd been working on it for only a minute or so when I heard her scold him, "You didn't say 'connector!'."

Lesson for Daddy: don't start an annoying game that you won't want to keep playing.