Anxiety starts to set in as we fly through the arena doors and navigate the busy lobby. By the way parents are swiftly getting out of our way, I know that they recognize the telltale look on my face of a mom who fucked up the game time and is now rushing to get their kid on the ice.
Skates, neck guard, helmet, mouth guard and gloves on, check. Water bottle filled with the tap from the dressing room, doubtful that it is anyone’s first choice but, well, tough shit at this point. I then make the dreaded walk up the stairs with my son to get him on the ice. Walking up the stairs and waiting for a stop in the play to push my son out onto the ice is about the equivalent of doing the walk of shame in an oversized men’s sweatshirt and last night’s heels (yeah that’s right, I went there!) Most parents are now watching and giving me looks, some sympathetic, most more along the lines of why didn’t you get here on time? We got here on time, why couldn’t you??? I sit down and do my best to blend in, say a few hellos and start to cheer. I made it. The worst is over, or is it?
That’s when I feel a staticky lump in my pants and I reach down to smooth it out and feel something clinging to the inside of my pant and I think to myself, please let that be a dryer sheet. I look down and nope! Sadly it is not! I see a pair of lacy underwear peeking out of the bottom of my trustee mom hockey pants. OhhhMyyyyGawwdd! I look up with what I can only imagine is terror written all over my face and I see a hockey dad notice, what I am noticing, hanging out of the bottom of my pants. He smirks, I am mortified. I slowly cross my legs, grab the lacy panties hanging out of the bottom of my pants and shimmy them up the sleeve of my coat, and cleverly tuck them into my purse. I count my blessing that they aren’t a hot pink colored thong…a small victory, but I will take it. Man I am on fire this morning! I feel like I have conquered the last obstacle, or at least for the next blissful forty minutes, while my son is on the ice. I sit back and smile at all I have accomplished in the last 20 minutes, avoiding the glances from the dad who saw my undies hanging out of my pants. Not too bad for a single mom!
xo Guest Blogger Erin