The Skating Rink

We’re all about adventures.

Starting on New Years Eve. (We didn’t wait for some silly date on the calendar to regroup our family this year and it was WONDERFUL).

So despite a terrorist issue in Rochester on Dec. 31 (sigh), we trekked out as planned to the nearby skating rink for our family’s first ice skating adventure.

Addie has been gliding around the house in her “skate shoes” (Elsa sneakers) for weeks now and was completely in awe when we told her our plan.

If you wanted to fast forward about 10 paragraphs, you’d learn this:

It was an incredible experience in the end. But it took some work.

 

We were toying with over-stimulated children, funked-up routines and the beginning of bedtime, not to mention potential crowds and a new activity. Scott and I hadn’t been on ice in probably 10-plus years and the kids have never seen it other than at a hockey game a couple of months ago.

 

The crowds weren’t too bad and we got our admission and skate rentals with little fuss or delay.

And then the skates.

I feel like one of the many parenting classes they should offer when you decide you want to have children (in addition to Do You Have Common Sense and Don’t Do Stupid Things That Will Get You on the 5pm News) is How to Put Skates on Young Children While Maintaining Some Calmness and Not Creating a Scene.

Addie’s went on relatively easy, especially once I reminder her that she’d be on the ice in a few minutes. She stood right up and was walking in the skates like it was no big deal. Shaking my head, I tell ya, this kid.

But we had some trouble with Zack. Our initial pair we got was too small. He was already in Meltdown Mode after the first attempt and nearly lost his mind wailing on the carpet of the locker room as we waited for Scott to return with the second pair. It’s all good, because we got them on and soon enough, we were marching to the Kiddie Rink like the Jets and the Sharks in the opening scenes of West Side Story. I’m pretty sure we thought we were a big deal, with a bit of swagger and some cocky smiles. Fools!

Scott took Zack and soon realized the Z-Man was not going to do a thing. Not one ounce of balance or coordination and 40 pounds of scrambling, laughing kid in his arms. Addie wasn’t too bad, but just got way too excited and was pretty much attempting a triple axel on her first step on the ice. I was much worse a skater than she was, so our first lap (OK, our first eight) were PAINFULLY slow.

Scott was so worn out from essentially hunching over and carrying Zack on the ice that the two guys took a break. As Addie and I came around the straightaway towards them I saw Scott and the grandmother-woman-watcher next to him interacting and she was waving towards her granddaughter and family on the ice, using a red chair-like device that’s an option for teaching skating.

And she gave us their red chair. She grabbed my hand as I steadied my hand on the wall in front of her. Scott was positioning Zack in the red thingy-ma-jiggy and I was trying not to feel the screaming chant of “Down Syndrome comes to skating rinks, too!” And this stranger patted my hand and said “Your family is beautiful. I hope this makes your night a special memory.”

And then Scott’s back was less sore, Zack was giggling lap after lap and Addie was showing off for the five older girls she had already made friends with. And I was there, the mother of this crazy clan, taking it all in. And trying not to fall down and really ruin the moment.

The craziest part of it all?

That we’re looking into ice skating lessons for BOTH kids.

 

 

 

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