THAT parent…part 1

When you are THAT parent.  You know the one that looks like they combed their hair with a mattress. The one who shows up late because they thought the game was at 9:30am when it was at 9:00am.  We all have those moments, or at least I think we do. Right? Please tell me I am right!

It’s SundayFunday, 8:40am and my son has been up since 6:00am. Whoever came up with that title is clearly not a tired mom.  I throw in the towel, and decide to get up and be productive after a night of flying elbows and feet digging into my back, and settling for the corner of the now empty duvet cover. How the fuck my kid can successfully get the duvet, out of the cover, in his sleep, every single time he crawls into bed with me is a talent that never ceases to amaze me.

Laundry, packing for the cottage (the next day was a PA day, yayyy said no mom ever), and I am just about to enjoy my first sip of coffee while helping my son put on his hockey gear (which is always sooooooo much fun) when I get this nagging feeling that I;ve forgotten something. My mom spidey senses are on high alert but I can’t put my finger on what I’m missing.

Despite the fact that my son loves to play hockey, putting on his equipment is always a whining, complaining, frustrating endeavor which usually ends with me yelling like a complete psycho at least three times. I am wrestling with the gear when that nagging feeling suddenly becomes clear: my son’s hockey is not at 9:30am like I thought, but at 9:00am. A quick double check of the schedule and that nagging feeling is right. Fuck.

In my world of single momhood thirty minutes might as well be a lifetime. You learn to get a lot of shit done in a mere thirty minutes. I guess I am going to start the season off right by dragging my kid through the rink, in a panic.  Awesome! High-five right here!

I kick it into high gear, which is not appreciated by my whiny son. We are pulling off clothes, throwing on hockey pants, shin pads, elbow pads, as fast as we can. Of course the inevitable happens once all of his gear is on, (minus skates and helmet which we will put on at the arena) “Mom, I have to go to the bathroom, and it’s not just a pee.” Please, please tell me this is a false alarm… but no, it isn’t. Mastering the science of getting your child on the toilet while removing the least amount of equipment possible to get the job done is most definitely a talent I never thought I would actually ever need or consider a talent, for that matter.

I run to the dryer and grab my trustee Lululemon pants and a hoodie, better known as “the hockey mom official uniform,” (next time you are at an arena before 10:00am on a weekend take a look around and you will see hockey moms: Lulu’s target market whether they like it or not!) and we hit the road. I take a quick glance in the mirror and say a little thank you to the dry shampoo gods.  Make-up is clearly not going to happen so this is the look I will be sporting this morning….To be continued…

xo Guest Blogger Erin

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