Ice, Ice Baby: Lessons from the Rink

Yesterday was the end of Park’s first session of ice skating lessons. She did a tester course in the summer but this was the real thing. For six weeks I have watched her attempts. When upright, she is a pretty fast skater – but she seems to prefer to spend more time rolling on the ice. I don’t know if she’s doing it on purpose but she seems fascinated with BEING ON THE FLOOR – and it drives me crazy. She doesn’t just fall, she lays there, studying the markings for the ice hockey games, feeling the cold on her hands, playing with whatever object the teacher threw out for them to retrieve.

I guess I want her to excel at this and she seems quite content to idle by, taking in the scenery as she occasionally listens to the instructor. Sometimes it’s a slow crumble down to the ice, sometimes it’s a spectacular crash. Each time I want to scream at the top of my lungs GET UP, but she’s quite happy laying there thinking about it. I don’t care if she is ever an athlete but to see her so comfortable at laying there drives me nuts. I like that we try different things – and she LIKES ice skating. After every class I ask if she is still on board, does she want to keep doing and it and she never hesitates to say yes. She even gave up dance classes to do this.

Maybe it’s me. She is clearly happy just being out there, enjoying the moment. I’m the one in conniptions on the sidelines. I’m thinking she’s complacent with being adequate and she’s thinking “yeah, more fun time (literally) on the ice.” I have been told I am a perfectionist. I really, really don’t see myself that way, I just don’t want to embarrass myself so I try to get things right. People say I am really smart – first grade at five, college at 20, masters at 22 – but it was only because I was rushing through school and wanted to be done early, so I worked at it – In reality I was really just a strong B, maybe at times B+ student. Maybe I just need to chill the hell out with my expectations for my daughter and for myself.

So I’m putting my money where my mouth is – yesterday I signed up for adult ice skating lessons. I have been on skates three times in my life and each time I ride the side rail for dear life. But perhaps I need to learn like my daughter to be comfortable in falling; comfortable in letting go and not trying to be perfect or rush through just to get it over with. Perhaps I need to simply live in that moment right then and there and not worry about the next one.

The best thing about it – our lessons are at the same time. So instead of seeing Mommy focusing on what she is doing wrong she will see Mommy simply being human – stumbling, learning, trying,and not taking that imperfection past that one moment when it happens. Most importantly, she’ll see me falling, and perhaps, like her I will learn to just get up with a smile on my face and keep moving forward.

Oh No She Didn't

The other day I went on my third school trip in four weeks – this time to a museum. These trips always seem to fall on the same day Park has an after school activity. Since I was going on the trip she skipped the school bus. So I drove her 20 miles to school, went on the trip, drove her 20 miles back home, fed her, then left for ice-skating lessons. By the time we got home I was exhausted and I just wanted to rest. Park then asked if we could play. I’m thinking, isn’t that what we’ve done for the past 10 hours?! So I went into this diatribe about how it was a long day, all that we did that day, how I just wanted to rest and no we could not play together.

While I was talking, Park was writing in her notebook. After my soliloquy she paused and drew a big heart on the page and then asked how to spell my name. I was so touched as she wrote each letter thinking what a sweet girl I have. After she finished the last letter I said “Oh Parker!” And then she looked at me, took the pen and scratched my name out – slowly! And said “That’s what you get for not playing with me.”

This kid, like all kids, has no idea what parents go through – with my back still sore from my failed kick-boxing class, I planned three things around her birthday celebration, worked an event for my church and wrote a script. I’m friggin’ walking around like a question mark trying not to miss a beat for her activities. I walk around in my “I’m going to the gym” clothes while my body looks like I’ve never set foot in one. For me dressing up is putting on red lipstick, but the only people who notice are my daughter’s classmates who beg me to put it on when I visit. One of the few times I managed to throw on a skirt, my neighbor chastised me for still wearing a slip – that she could see hanging below my hem.

So I walk around in my mom clothes, accented by red lips, running around from one child’s activity to the next. When I’m not doing that, I’m working from home, trying to get it all done before she gets home. So, in a nutshell, my earth orbits around her sun, while she scratches my name out of a heart.

But I know she loves me and just wants us to spend time together. In a few years that won’t be the case, she’ll stop being so consumed in my world and run off to play with her friends – while I beg for time with her. So I’ll take the art work with a grain of salt and spend a little time on the floor rolling around – with my bad clothes, my red lipstick and my wild, expressive child in my arms.