May I gloat?
It is really hard to not talk about skating this time of year. Even though it’s a balmy 95 degrees outside, the figure skating season is in full swing and we are spending many mornings at the rink. Sass had her first competition of the season a couple weeks ago. Three days after she competed we jumped on a plane and flew to Colorado for the Broadmoor Open. We had a blast and Sass skated very well.
I am so proud of my girl, not for the medal or placement on the pedestal, but for her strength. You wouldn’t know it by talking to her, because she is really shy, but boy does that girl have guts. She gets it from her father. She also encompasses his stubbornness and knack for telling long run-on stories with no ending while I’m trying to listen to messages on my phone, but that is a whole other conversation.
Needless to say, I would be just as proud of my Sass if she was standing on a podium for best Weed Picker. Especially if she is displaying the same type of hard work and determination she has this past year in her skating.
Of course if she was Weed Picker of the year, I wouldn’t be dragging my sorry self to the rink at the crack of dawn, or freezing my bagg-ats off in zamboni polluted arctic air, or wrapping Sass’s feet with blister pads, moleskin, and Bunga Pads. There would be no more ridiculous phone calls to the pediatrician begging for foot numbing cream (sad but true). Sass’s feet had horrible bumps and open sores. She begged me to figure something out to help her with the pain. The cream was the best I could come up with. That or tell her she couldn’t compete, and well, that didn’t work, because miraculously she was suddenly healed, but walking like her knees couldn’t bend and the heal of her tights were smeared with blood.
Thankfully, operation numbing cream didn’t have to be implemented thanks to Dr. Scholl’s. With that said I would like my name removed from the top 100 list of horrible skate moms.
For those of you who are wondering, Sass doesn’t wear a helmet. It is one of those things that seems ridiculous now, but give it a few years, perhaps when Johnny Weir starts to wear a rhinestoned helmet, and then maybe we will require helmets for figure skaters. We will look back at these years as the “what the crap skating years?” No helmets?! Kind of like we do with children and car seat usage today versus 20 years ago.
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