Something magical happens when you put a bunch of hockey moms on ice. We forget about our hair, our posture and our pride. We remember what little kid fun is. We revisit a gut full of giggles and eventually we learn to skate. It may look more like a shaky squat, but we skate.
“I want to learn how to skate and understand what the kids are doing,” said Jolene Street, hockey mom. “I also get to hang out with a bunch of moms, not worry about what I look like and act like a kid again.”
Halfway through hockey season, the moms moved from the bleachers to the bench. Since I already coach the littles, I’m the unofficial mom coach, but I’m not much farther ahead of the ladies. We meet late on Friday nights. Our kids do more gawking than guiding and the husbands enjoy the spectacle from the sidelines. We wear borrowed gear and hold stolen sticks.
My son’s equipment certainly doesn’t smell female fresh, but I’m wearing it anyway. Past the stink, we are laughing at how we limp along. Getting up from a spill takes a twice as long as our kids and the sheer volume of sweat produced in the cold is unbelievable.
“It’s a great form of exercise,” said Jessica Baird, hockey mom. “I was really surprised by how sweaty and wore out I was after playing a game of hockey. It’s extremely hard. Harder than it looks.”
The ice is extremely hard too. I know this because I’m laying face down on it in Salmon, Idaho during our first official game. It’s Idaho Falls Icy Hot versus Salmon Cold Muthas and I’ve just gone down. I’ve never been hit by a woman. I mean really hit, but man oh man, women can hit. I lamely lift my skates to let everyone know their coach is okay. That’s the only signal I can muster in my weakened state.
My eyes slowly roll to the front of my head and I mentally replay the body slam. A woman knocked me down? What? She’s a mom. I’m a mom. Our kids are watching. Players hover over me. They’re my teammates. My friends. They’re all moms, but they look like guys toying with a broken engine. I’m broken alright, but I’m not beat.
“It’s good for kids to see their parents fail at something they are good at,” Street said.
I pull myself up by my hockey skates and face off on the red line. I know our goals only hit the net because the dads pay the kid goalies to let our pucks in. I know we look awkward, but we are all okay with that and that is beautiful.
“I’m not good. My child told me so,” Baird said. “As an adult, it is a lot harder to learn new things, but it was the best experience ever.”
I say our kids are good at sports and we, as moms, are just good sports. I wouldn’t trade the aches and bruises for a massage and a manicure. I don’t think any of the other moms would either.
The on-ice perspective gives us a new level of respect for the minor athletes we’re raising. Hopefully, seeing mama slowly push a puck toward the net gives our kids something to respect too.
Millgate is a journalist based in Idaho Falls, Idaho. Read more of her stories at www.tightlinemedia.com