How to be a hockey mom.

If you're looking for a political commentary, click away. This post is going to be a few dos and don'ts for real live hockey moms, in hopes that moms, dads, grandparents and any others involved in hockey or other sports may learn something.

Let me preface this post by saying I have not put a lot of thought into this, and I am certainly no expert. I've made my mistakes as a sports mom through the years. Perhaps there's something about hockey that attracts a specific breed. Or maybe it's the added stress the sport puts on your wallet, but a good hockey mom learns to manage that stress and deal with other issues, like when your kid doesn't get much ice time.

The number one rule of being a hockey mom: the MOM part, and the examples you set are WAY MORE important than the HOCKEY part. Here are a few specific dos and don'ts.

1. Ice time is not a birth right. It's something a hockey player earns. If you want your kid to have more ice time, it is YOUR responsibility to make sure he has the skills he needs. DO invest in plenty of practice time, camps, private lessons, whatever your kid needs. Otherwise, he will sit on the bench more than you'd like to see.

2. If you think your kid deserves more ice time, DON'T tell the coach he's stupid. That will not result in your son getting more ice time. Guaranteed.

3. DON'T leave it up to your teenage son to get to practice at 5:30 a.m. on his own. Get up and take him. If he shows up only every other time or shows up 15 minutes late or without a helmet or without all the equipment he needs, he's not going to get more ice time.

4. DO understand that although you can buy your way on to a team, there is no guarantee your kid will play as much as you want or even as much as the other kids on the team.

5. If you want your kid to play, DO take him to open hockey, drop-in hockey, private lessons, camps, spring training, buy him a net and a shooting pad, encourage him to practice. Support him by helping him get better. The better your kid is, the more time he'll play.

6. DO NOT isolate yourself from the other parents. If we don't know who you are, you don't bring your kid to practice or you don't come to the games, we can't tell you about all the opportunities for your son to get private lessons, open hockey, drop-in hockey, and more practice time, etc., etc.

7. DO come to practice. This is where you see exactly where your kid's skills stand up to other kids. It's where it becomes blindingly obvious whether or not your kid has what it takes or doesn't. If he doesn't, get him some more practice, camps, private lessons, put him on a second or even a third team to get the ice time. If you aren't willing to do some of this, or you really can't afford it, save your money and pull him off the ice altogether.

8. DON'T let your kid get involved in hockey unless you are ready to make some sacrifices yourself. Hockey is more than writing checks. It's spending time with your kid in the car on the way to practice, and before and after games. It's talking about what went right and wrong, about the other kids he's spending time with, about what camps, extra ice time, and additional practice he might need or about how much he's improved and how proud you are of him.

9. Hockey gives you great opportunities to talk about real life lessons like anger management, fairness, safety, nutrition, hygiene...even the importance of good grades. It's an opportunity to forge a bond with your kid that you will never regret. It's certainly worth a little lost sleep and the time it takes.

10. Finally, if you have something to say to the coach, do it in private. Do it calmly. Don't stand in the middle of the rink lobby and start pointing your finger and screaming. Calmly make an appointment to talk to the coach. Hockey coaches are great people. They know more about your kid and his ability to play hockey than you do. They don't mince words, they will tell you exactly why your kid doesn't get ice time. Coaches are about more than winning, they like to develop players. They like to see kids improve. Yelling at the coach won't buy your kid any favors.

That's it. I'm sure there's more. Like I said, I'm no expert. But in the four or five years I've been involved in hockey I've learned a few things. It can be a great sport, or it can be an agonizing sport. As with everything in life, you get out what you put in.

The Smells of Summer

This weekend I officially began the war (or at least a major frontal assault) on an evil force that has taken a stronghold in my home. It is one I've been aware of for some time. It has appeared in various forms through the years, and periodically I have taken major offensives toward it. But this time it's no holds barred. I am ready to fight.

I am at war with stink.

Now stink is a word with a lot of definitions, and its usage has become quite diverse. So in the interest of clarity, let's make sure we're clear what this war is about.

"Stink" can be used to describe things we don't like, as in "I can't have a second Dove bar, that stinks." Stink can be used effectively, albeit a bit awkwardly and redundantly, in a sentence like, "They are filthy rich and literally stink with money."

In my case, in my life, the stink I am waging war agaist is the dictionary definition as in "stink (stingk): 1. To emit a strong foul odor."

"Strong" and "foul" are two words that add up to "enemy" in my book. And in the case of my enemy, it is persistent, and fairly aggressive, particularly when it's got hot, humid weather on its side.

So as June 21 marked the start of summer and the longest day of the year came and went, I decided it was time to attack, or at least get serious about this battle I need to wage. The worst part is that I'm fighting this alone. The enemy has allies. And they deny their alliance. They also are prone to taunting and mimic. They wage psychological warfare, telling me "it's all in your head," and "your nose is way too sensitive."

But I know it's not me. There is stink among us. I've tried to hide it. I've covered it up. I've used "Powder Fresh" sprays that smell like old people, and even specially formulated sprays for killing bacteria and odor. But it seems the more I try to cover it up, the more it stinks.

A major warlord for the opposition took up residence in "my space" a year ago. I'm not talking about the internet "my space." This is the real world. MY SPACE, which is a 30 foot long, 15 fooot wide breezeway/sunroom where my laundry room and office reside. (Now any work at home person with a family understands the ingenuity of the office/laundry combo...and you can obviously understand my desire to protect it.)


The enemy moved in over a year ago. I didn't give it much thought. But through the months it has become ever-present and based on epirical evidence, it's not going anywhere.

So this weekend on a 90 degree day when the air conditioner in the breezeway had been off all day, with the enemy lounging comfortably on the floor, I walked in and was nearly knocked back with a direct attack. Unable to even scream because of the air quality, I called an immediate summit.

My demands were clear, and to my surprise, the "evil" alliance agreed to my demands quickly and without complaint.

I've reclaimed my space. The first steps are done. The enemy is lying empty a few yards away and I can't smell it. It's contents -- all six jerseys and six sweater socks and under armor and under garments, all clean and fresh, folded and fluffed on the laundry table. The equipment -- padded shorts, shoulder pads, elbow pads, knee pads, gloves and skates are lying somewhat dejected in a pile. They are prisoners of war, in need of some rehab before I'll release them and call this battle done.



Yes, this weekend I started and won a battle against stink. I'm not naive enough to think the war is over or that we'll always have peace. That equipment will go back in that bag, as will the folded fluffy jerseys and socks. The bag will go to the rink and the kid will wear the contents, and when he's done he will put it all back in the bag to comingle and consort, and the battle will begin again. Yes, I know, this enemy is not going away. It will be back. Soon.



But at least for a few days -- maybe even a few weeks here between camps and practices and seasons, I'm taking back My Space. For a few short days, I'm going to enjoy the smells of summer. A little. I still have to figure out how to get the smell out of my car...