Thursday, July 1, 2010

Who Knew Ice Skating With Three Kids and a Non-Skating Adult Would Be So Hard?

You may remember me mentioning here at one point or another that Jack wants to play on a hockey team. Since he'd never been on ice skates and I promised him two months ago to take him ice skating, I decided to take him to an ice rink today.

Naturally, this meant that I would also drag along Sam and Quinn, as well as my mother who is visiting from out of town and seemed a little bit trepidatious about going skating with me. I didn't quite understand this until we were at the rink and I offered to help her with her skating and she told me that back in my ice skating days, I would pull her out to the middle of the rink and leave her there. Over and over.

I think that tells you a little something about both of us.

Anyway, we'd been skating—and I use the term "skating" loosely—for maybe 15 minutes when it came to me: Bringing this group of people to an ice skating rink all at the same time is maybe the worst idea I've ever had.

The four of them were strewn all over the rink, clinging to the wall, as I tried to skate around and offer support to each of them by picking them up off the ground, wiping the tears that were streaming down their faces, or trying to drag them just a little bit farther down the ice.

When they first stepped on the ice though, they were all smiles.

This might be the last time Quinn smiled for about an hour.

I was all the way across the rink when I saw Sam skating nicely away from the wall, so I tried to uncap my camera really fast to capture his victory.

 I wasn't fast enough. I have about ten photos like this. He didn't recover.

Jack was the guy who cried, but I think it was just because I'd left him to go help my mom. He actually really liked to skate. He was also the guy who did the best at it. He kept trying and was the only one who said he wanted to go back. I was so very proud of him.

Just look at him! Try not to notice the band aid on his face or
the emergent black eye from an earlier injury.

 My mom was a trooper. She valiantly tried to help Quinn skate. Too bad she was valiantly trying to stay on her feet as well.

It literally took her 45 minutes to get around the rink once.

We were almost ready to give up when Jack told me that he wanted to go back out. He was able to actually keep his feet underneath him and let me pull him around without tripping me in the process.

I'm not going to say that he didn't fall a lot, but he kept getting right back up.

He was so excited. He didn't want to take his rink sticker off of his pants. "These will be my ice skating pants," he kept telling me.

That kid is awesome. And I don't think he snorted once while we were there.

Fortunately, free skate—or "cheap skate" as they awesomely term this bargain skating time—wasn't very long.

I think Sam and Quinn's favorite part was watching the Zamboni.

So, yeah, maybe not my best idea, but it really worked out for Jack. Next time I'll go just with him. And amazingly, even though they spent more time crumpled on the ice than standing up, no one whined at all, which is nearly unprecedented for my guys. They were total troopers.

I rewarded them with pink lemonade and french fries.


And, hey, thank you guys for your nice comments on my snorting post yesterday. Ignoring the snorting and giving Jack saline drops for the last couple of days has really seemed to help. The snorting is totally decreasing in frequency. Also, fortunately, my and Jack's relationship doesn't seem to have been irrevocably damaged. Hallelujah!

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