We were getting ready for hockey today, and I was in the bathroom brushing my teeth. The youngest comes in looks at himself in the mirror, then looks at me in utter shock.
"I loook like a freak mom, you want me to look like a freak?"
Not really looking at him I mutter with a mouthful of toothpaste, "ou on't ook ike a reak."
"You like me to look like an idiot mom, you want everyone to call me an asshole." yep that is what my three year old told me. I spit, and turn around to see what is causing such a fuss, to see that his hair is all sticking up all over his head.
"Well honey mommy can fix that right up, your not a freak or an idiot sugarbaby."
I left the asshole part out in hopes that he wouldn't repeat that again. I wet his hair down, and combed him up.
"There how is that."
"I am cute now, thans mom."
and we head out to the car.
I didn't think about it again, and then we get to the rink and the first person he see he has to tell them "I'm not an asshole!" Oh yeah I wanted to crawl under something and die as these prim and proper hockey moms dressed in their designer labels, with their French tip nails professionally done, look at me in my levi's and old sweatshirt, like I am some trailer park trash. I probably know more about hockey then they ever will, and then one of the hockey dads, breaks the silence and says "Well it's good not to be an asshole!" "Yeah" my 3 year old says happily. I laughed so hard as he brushed passed the others moms, I wanted to hug him for that. Hockey dads are great, however I just don't seem to fit in with a lot of the hockey moms. I don't sit in the warm lobby and gossip with the other women, while my baby is on the ice. I sit in the stands of the cold arena, that is where my baby asked me to be so I could see him better. I don't have a lot in common with these upper middle class women who are all about status, and I don't have my kid in hockey because it is the "thing to be in" like some of them do, and I have heard some of the kids complain they hate it. He plays because he has a love for the game, and if there is ever a time when he doesn't love the game he doesn't have to play anymore. So I will keep sitting in the stands freezing cold, and I will keep wearing my ratty old sweatshirts, with my hair and nails not done professionally, and I will enjoy every minute that he is out there playing his little heart out, because I enjoy watching him. I love the pride he has when he has done something great and gives me a thumbs up, or when he skates by and gives me that little "look at me mom" smile and head nod. I don't have to try and fit in with those other moms, I have so much more than they ever will.