The Seventh Deadly Sin

I have had a few different posts rattle through my brains in the past couple of days but this is the first I've thought to sit down and try to get them out.  Problem is I was quite angry when these posts hit me (as is usually the case) and I am not angry now. I am sort of defeated and fighting the beginnings of a head cold but not really angry.


Why was I so enraged?  When aren't I enraged (with the exception of this morning)?


Hockey.  Small towns.  People's inability to respect other people's (specifically my own, time).  


Morning.  Eating chocolate. Drinking vodka. Sleeping.


If you aren't following, the first list contains the answers to self-imposed question one and the second list, answers to self-imposed question 2.


I am kind of a morning person.  I like mornings and am generally more productive in the morning.  Chocolate always makes me happy until I realize its consumption leads to tight pants.  Drinking vodka used to be tons of fun but is now something I rarely do and even more so, something I seem to enjoy less.  The hangover isn't worth it and/or I'm with people I am uncomfortable actually getting drunk with.  Boo.  Sleeping is pretty self-explanatory although I do sometimes, shockingly, have angry dreams.


Hockey in general does not make me angry. I quite like it.  I really like watching my 8 year old son play.  He is good at it.  This may sound like bragging and potentially it is, but honestly being someone who can still not stop on skates without the aid of the boards or another body? His 'prowess' delights and intrigues me!  My son, a skater!  And he loves hockey and he studies it and he knows it.  This leads to my having turned into one of the crazies who thinks maybe, just maybe, he'll go somewhere with it.


However, given where we live, I am going to potentially have to make some drastic changes to my way of life, or really, just my personality. I despise hypocrites.  I go out of my way to not be one and unfortunately in my slightly underdeveloped brain this equates with my thinking if I do not like someone, they should know this in no uncertain terms.  However, based on this small town I live in, hockey politics (sadly they do exist outside of the NHL, in full force; even in Novice B hockey), and the actions of a friend yesterday, I think I need to grow the fuck up and learn how to tolerate, politely, those whom I cannot stand.


I am capable of this.  I managed it quite well in my previous professional career, to an extent.  When it served my well being I suppose, and I guess it's time to go back there.  Smile and nod. If I haven't got anything nice to say, make some shit up.  Deal.  Grow the fuck up.


I am almost 35 and have a failed career, to an extent, to show for it.  I am capable of a stubbornness like no other and this has brought me to this very financially unstable place I am today.  


Being a Type A control freak who borders on perfectionism (I am scarily in danger of becoming a real loser as I shy away from doing things I don't think I am instantly and perfectly able to), this is hard to swallow.  I am smarter than this.  I am capable.  I was mature before my time in many ways but in the last two years I have regressed to an unacceptable place.  It's paralyzing. I crave control and right now it eludes me.  I have control over very little-or at least not the level of control I want or the right kind.  So it's time to change this up. I don't even know how or why.  I only know that whether or not my son is destined for the NHL or otherwise, I will not get in his way because of pride.


Pride has gotten me to where I am today and there are much less accolades and rewards than I imagined.  There is only loneliness, a sense of failure, loss and frustration.  Time to turn around.

Chapped Lips & a Perm

I am now officially a hockey mom.  This is my 7 year old son's third year in hockey but this is his first year where he actually gets to play games, for points, where someone notices who's won and who's lost.  It is a big deal.


It is a big deal for most of these little boys who have been practising and learning to skate for at least two to three years prior to their first real game.  Further to that, it's a big deal for their mothers.  A bigger deal than I might have imagined.  A bigger deal than I might think is normal or within the realm of common sense and decency.


I don't think I'm cut out to be a hockey mom.  I like hockey.  I like my children.  You would think, therefore, there wouldn't be a problem.  Wrong.  See I generally am not a fan of small talk.  I also am not a fan of those who 'put on airs'.  I am not a fan of women.  Don't get your panties in a bunch.  I have some really good female friends.  Oddly enough though, the three women I have at sometime or now still do consider my best friends, are women who generally get along better with men than women.  My best friend ladies swear.  They are direct.  They are intelligent.  They, I am quite certain, know the measure of importance that should be allotted to a Novice 'B' hockey game.  For those of you unfamiliar with hockey, the Novice division is for 7 year old children.


7 Years Old.


This is important to remember for a number of reasons.  Some of these children, it could be argued, are playing hockey because their parents want them too.  Some of these children are playing hockey because they love it and have dreams of the NHL.  Some of these children are playing because it's fun.


I do believe their mothers fall in the same category.  I am not intentionally picking on moms.  They are just who I'm spending time in the stands with at the rink.  I have heard horror stories about the dads too and I'm sure in the years to come I will have those observations to share as well.


Some of the moms have encouraged their sons to play hockey because they love hockey or their husband loves hockey or because it's just what boys (in Canada, at least) are supposed to do.  Some of the moms are supporting their sons playing hockey because their child loves it and is having fun.  Some of the moms are supporting their children playing hockey because it apparently, in some way or another, defines who they are as a woman, a mother and human being.


These are the women I take issue with. The woman who sat in the stands at the very first game last weekend and literally screamed at her seven year old child and his team.   She didn't scream anything that warranted intervention but one could surmise it was fairly intense and unnecessary at this level (or any for that matter) of hockey.  And one other woman did surmise this.  How she found the time to come to this realization is beyond me as she spends the better part of her time at the rink applying lip balm.  It comes in handy when you kiss as much coordinator ass as she does.  That being said, she did notice and instead of moving or choosing to ignore immature behaviour, she told this woman to "Shut up!"  Apparently this was not well received.


SAH-PRIZE, SAH-PRIZE.


I have a long road ahead of me folks.  Which is good for you because I don't foresee running out of material anytime soon.  Reese is only 7.   There is a lot of hockey ahead and he loves it.  Rhett is 4 and wants nothing more than to be like his brother, so yes, more hockey.  More lunatics.  More perms.


I fear I will not make a lot of new friends.  I fear I will end up a permed screaming lunatic with chapped lips if I am not careful and do not plan accordingly.


So here it is, I will maintain friendships outside of the rink, I will have hobbies, read the paper and watch TV.  I will ask my hairdresser to sign a contract with me vowing never to perm my hair never mind how much I beg (wash and wear would be such a breeze with early ice times though...).  I will save my screaming for adult sports events.  I have yet to kiss ass and really don't think the rink is the place to start.  What if my lips get frozen to coordinator ass?!  It's a risk I just can't take.


All I ask from you is if you see my slipping, if you notice a change in behaviour wherein I simper in front of hockey 'royalty' (read: coaches, coordinators and whoever else could be deemed as all powerful by the Hockey Gods) or I suddenly don mom jeans and blue shadow, step in, please.


I mean, I need to stay in top form for at least the next ten years and then I will be all set for our first NHL draft.