Heartbreak

One of the most difficult things about parenting is the moment when you lose control over their environment.  When you're powerless to stop the pain they feel, unable to hit the rewind button and can only hold their trembling little body while they sob into your chest.

This week, our community experienced the unimaginable.  A boy is my oldest son's first grade class was killed in a tragic accident. My heart hurts for my own kiddo, all of the little boys and girls in his class, the teachers at school, and most of all for that sweet boy's parents.

My husband and I shared the devastating news with our 7 year old and he cried and cried.  Then he asked simply "can I go play outside?". And he did, he played all by himself for a solid 45 minutes.  When he finally came inside, he asked some pretty matter of fact questions.

We're so fortunate to live in such a small, tightly woven community.  The children at school made cards, took photos and hung colorful messages to the little boy on a white birch on the playground.  I think it was a healing process for my little guy.

He told my mom last night that his little friend wasn't at school that day and that he wouldn't be there on Monday either.  It makes you wonder, how much is his little 7 year old mind capable of comprehending.  That little piece of innocence is forever gone for all of the children that this boy touched.  His sweet, playful memory will live on forever, and plans are being made to memorialize his life.

This tragedy has forced me to reflect on my life in a new way.  This weekend, I'm going to check my work email a little less, and take a few more walks with my kids.  I plan to focus a ton on the laughter in the backseat and less on the traffic around me.

Photo Courtesy: Sun Journal

Always a hockey mom in training...

It's not easy being a hockey mom.  I'm not complaining, I'm just stating the facts.  It's a smelly, gas hogging, tireless, mostly thankless job.  This blog is meant to portray the good, the bad, the ugly and the funny that is being a hockey mom (or dad) in training.

I have three kids, a Mite, a Mini-Mite (both boys) and a 20 month old little angel who hates watching her brothers play hockey.

This is her exhibiting how much she hates watching hockey (imagine flailing legs, loud screeching sounds and crocodile tears).

I'd like to think that her protests are a hint at things to come, you know her not playing hockey.  But, my hopes are dashed every. single. night when she joins her brothers in a game of living room hockey.  Expensive television, be damned.

Hockey has always been my favorite sport, I played field hockey in high school.  I never caught the bug early enough to get really good at it.  Our family became hockey addicts in 2004 when our hometown got a QMJHL Hockey team.  My oldest son attended his first hockey game at the tender age of 5 days old, my youngest son was just 3 days old.  Yes, it's sick, I know.

Fast forward to now.  My oldest son has aspirations of making the USA Hockey Team.  Yes, it's a VERY long shot, but if he's willing to work toward a goal at the tender age of 7...GO FOR IT!  This is where our very long journey of hockey mom training begins.  

This summer he plans to get a trainer to develop speed and accuracy, his words, not mine, not my husbands.  He shoots from dawn to dusk, much to the chagrin of several windows, garage doors, siding. I will keep you posted on the progress.

For now, I must go disinfect some gear and get it ready for the four week hiatus.  Heaven help my sense of smell.