Mums CAN do sport

Our son thinks his mother can't do sport. Not sure where he gets this idea. Okay, generally speaking, I am the baking, sewing, knitting, photo-taking, scrapbooking, gardening kind of Mum. And I'm not ashamed of that. However, I'm not some stick-in-the-mud who doesn't know which end of a hockey stick to hold.

He knows, intellectually anyhow, that I have played sports. He's gone for a run with me, we've gone for bike rides, and I taught him some of the finer points of cross-country skiing. And, of course, I've been taking all the kids swimming since they were babies. But, he has it in his head that I can't play hockey.


Okay, okay. Not on ice. I have never, ever played ice hockey. But I can skate fairly well. I can even do spins - on purpose. But I haven't played ice hockey, so he thinks I can't play hockey. Period.

Silly, silly boy. Your lack of faith will seal your doom on the driveway, and in the yard. Trust me. As I demonstrated yesterday afternoon.


Now that we actually have somewhere safe to play driveway hockey, I thought it was about time we had some equipment. So, after school, we went to Ernie's and bought some sticks, day-glo orange balls, and a couple of cones to use as a goal, in the event that our soccer net blows away during the course of the game. It turns out, that our son is just like his father . . . he may be right-handed, but he handles the stick like a lefty! 


Once we got home, with our small collection of sticks and balls, our son gets his out, and starts taunting me. Me. His mother. She who gave him life. He won't be doing that again. No way. Without cheating, with no under-handed moves, illegal checking/tripping, or anything else unsportsman-like, I got that ball away from him (he said I couldn't). I kept it away from both him and the dog. Jake, the dog, has no qualms about trying to knock people over or push them out of the way to get the ball. He is, after-all, a dog, and he just wants to play.

When we were done, I said, "See?" Our son said nothing. Our daughters were cheering me on, though. "By the way, didn't I mention that I played Field Hockey at university?" Jaw drops slightly. He nods. "That was field hockey, son."


I gave the stick to our oldest daughter, and the ball back to our son. "I want to play hockey as good as you, Mum," said the 7-year old girl. Awwwww, warm fuzzies. Thanks sweetie.

Now, don't tell my Dad . . . but the move to New Zealand has proved useful after-all. The game I learned to play in the 5th Form has served me well as a mother. Who would've thunk it??


Oh yeah, and I can play hockey in a skirt. Like to see Wayne Gretzky or Sidney Crosby do that!!

Sometimes, you just have to giggle

My husband and I were watching CTV News a couple of weeks ago - depressing stuff, more strife in the West Bank, Afganistan (as always), firey car wrecks . . . you name it. And let's not forget the gross state of the Commonwealth Games Atheletes Village - that was truly disgusting. I hope they got it all cleaned up in time for the atheletes' arrival.

Anyhow, amid all this depressing, violent and revolting news, we discovered something that had us both in stitches. I swear, tears were running down my face, and I could hardly breathe, I was laughing so hard!!

Just a note: we have a PVR satellite receiver, so we can rewind and play shows in slow-motion. And rewind and slow-mo we did. Not to mention, pausing on the truly funny parts.

Suspense killing you, yet??


CTV News has a correspondent, I believe he's in Toronto. He has a great voice, is clear and pronounces everything correctly, without any lame cliches thrown in for colour. If he was in radio, he would be one of the best news guys ever.


But . . . he has a very expressive pair of eyebrows. Extremely expressive. They just kill us, every time we see him! And it's even funnier in slow-motion!!


I recorded last Thursday's newscast, because I wanted to see the bit about the Fisher Price recalls and, of course, the death of actor Tony Curtis. And there, in the middle of the broadcast, was Omar, he of the uber-expressive eyebrows. I finally got around to watching it last night, after the kids were in bed. It was marvellous. The kids had been fighting and being obnoxious - I think they were cranky from too many late nights on the weekend! - but Omar and his dancing eyebrows just wiped all the grumpy feelings away, in a seemingly endless gale of laughter!


Thank-you Omar. I know, you can't help it, but that's okay. We don't want you to. We love to watch you in slow-motion . . . you know, he could probably package all his newscasts on DVD and sell them on E-Bay as stress-relieving videos. Forget those little rubber balls you're supposed to squeeze (or are they for carpal tunnel syndrome?), forget soothing music, forget alcohol, forget sweating the stress away at the gym. Just get your daily dose of Omar's eyebrows, and giggle your troubles away!!