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!!