Thursday, January 6, 2011

Knee Pads, Helmet, and Ice Skates, Oh My!

"Mooooooooommy! Fix my rice cakes!" (Not the usual request at the hockey rink!)

"You mean your ice skates?" "YES mommy! Fix my rice cakes!"

Noah's learning to skate. His aunt is a skating coach and has offered to help Noah find his stride.

I'm less than talented on the ice; I don't drive in the snow, I don't ski, I don't snowboard, and Lord help me if I get up the nerve (and the insanity) to set foot into bladed skate and step out onto the ice.

"Mommy, are you gonna skate with me!?"

"Maybe when you get REALLY good and can hold me up, okay Noah?"

He collapses into giggles.

"Mommy, you are too big! I can't protect you!"

Gee, thanks honey. Now... when your aunty is done parading you around the hockey rink, get back onto solid ground and I'll hold you while you'd little enough to let me.

I wish your whole life could be as simple as learning to skate. Put a few bumper pads on your knees and elbows, strap a helmet to your noggin, and send you out with a trusted adult to spread your wings and learn to fly (err.. glide, at least) while Mom cheers you on from the sidelines.

"Enjoy these years!" a mom called out to me when we were leaving. Noah was having a routine tantrum and I had to forcibly carry him out - legs kicking, mouth frothing, hands slapping.

I knew exactly what she meant. Along with the bumps, bruises, and toddler-sized rages, come the hugs, kisses, and unexpected praises.

Grow slow, little man. Some day you'll be big enough to teach me how to skate. In the meantime, I'm enjoying every day with you and your wonderful, spirited little self.  

I Wish My Brother Could Live with Me.

Noah and I were kicking the ball around the other day. We were talking about sports and how proud I was that he'd become such a great soccer player. 

"Just like my brother, right mommy!?" "Yes, that's right, Noah!"

"Oh mommy, I wish my brother could come live with me. Then we could play soccer together. Mommy, if I ask Santa, do you think he will bring me my brother?"

I stopped kicking the soccer ball. 

I knew these questions would come. I knew he would recognize the injustice that his brothers couldn't live with him. I just didn't think he's be so young, or so matter-of-fact in his questioning.

"Well, sweetie, your brother has his own family. They would miss each other if he came to live with us."

"Oh, well can I go see him? Can we go to the beach and eat candy and swim in the cold ocean?"

Oh Noah. Yes, my dear. I will take you to the beach and we'll invite your brother. And I'll bring some tooth-rotting candy. "Yes, but you'll have to wait until summer time for swimming."

Noah smiled at me. "How about a candy tonight? Please?"

"Of course!"

"Can I have two? One for me and one for my brother?"

"Of course!" He ended up with a handful of skittles and an devilishly sugared-up grin. I can't bring your brother home, son, but I can give you hyperglycemia if it makes the circumstances easier to swallow.