Jacob is six and in his first year of hockey. The first four practices were painful. He had never really been on skates without the benefit of one or more parents keeping him upright and watching Dan leave him out there on the ice that first day about made a mommy cry. He struggled. He spent more time on his ass than on his feet the first day. Thankfully he was not alone. The coaching staff was amazing and really spent time helping the new guys. Jacob’s favorite part was getting to hit the boards with his stick every time he made it across. He probably figured that if they were going to let him hit things he’d give this nonsense a shot.

It’s been quite something to watch him progress. Rapidly. People said the improvements would come swiftly and People were right. Hockey is not an easy game to learn. There are many skills required to master the basics of the sport, not the least of which staying upright on the damned ice. It impresses the hell out of me that these five and six year olds are doing as well as they are. It’s spine tingling stuff.

And even though it’s been a lot of work, the boy loves it. He’s out there with his red rosey cheeks smiling his little face off every single game and practice. Dan and I are happy as heck to pay the exorbitant fees and get up at 630 on Sunday mornings as long as he’s loving it as much as he is. Anything that puts a smile on your kid’s face like that – a smile that obviously comes from that place deep inside where your real happy lives – is worth it to us. I don’t care if he sucks at the game. As long as he’s happy and doing his best, we’re thrilled.

Still, you want your kid to get a goal. Because we knew he’d love it. We knew that it would make him want to play even harder, have even more fun. I also knew that if the whole season went by without a goal he’d feel it.

He’s had a few opportunities but his reaction time requires more than a split second to take the shot. By the time his brain sends the message to the stick, the puck is usually gone. If it isn’t, he shoots but lacks precision.

Today, he had it all on target. Opportunity, timing, precision. It’s a remarkable moment when it comes together for a kid like that. It demonstrates their growth. You can’t force it. It comes when it’s ready and not even he knew it was about to happen.

He had his moment, the puck was there, he was there. He put his stick on it, backhanded it toward the net and it went. Not to the left of the net, not the the right. But straight at it, just like it’s meant to. The goalie tried to make the save but (thank god!) failed. To say that the fans went wild is like saying the Great Wall of China is long. Dan and I were on our feet cheering like nobody has ever cheered before. Our boy. His first goal. You only get your first goal once. You can’t repeat that feeling.

Jake has the best coaches ever. They patted him on the back and knew what it meant to him. They probably knew what it meant to us too. It meant a lot. It’s the same as when he first started to read, you know? It’s him growing, becoming a capable young man who can do things. It’s Jacob becoming Jacob. It’s fucking awesome.

I don’t care if he never scores another goal. I’m just so proud of him for being the kid he is and for working so hard to do something that just isn’t easy. It’s damned impressive to me, is what it is.

I bet now he’ll be pissed off if he doesn’t get a goal every game.

My computer has been on a slow decline into the dumpster. I’d be working and it would start doing things like sending random instant messages to the zsar of russia (there is no zsar of russia! silly computer!) and other things of a completely fictitious nature. Finally it got to the point where it would only work if I kept it plugged into an electrical outlet. Unplugged it would last eighteen seconds.

You have come to the exact proper conclusion if you surmised that there were battery related issues. Smart cookie, you are! Mommy pats you on the head!

So now I’ve got it back and there are no more drunken russian messages waiting for me on Yahoo! I prefer it this way. Drunken Yahoo messages should be outgoing from this computer and not the other way round.

~ ~ ~

Today I wore my new (favorite!) jeans to drop Madison off at school. I also wore my red (red!) coat and a pair of three inch black boots (jeans! are boot cut!) and one of the other moms said to me, she said,

“You look awesome! With your boots and your jeans and your coat!”

So I struck a little pose wherein it is safe to imagine that I thrust my hips forward not unlike a supermodel might do and she said,

“What? Are you telling me you’re pregnant?”

“No,” says I, “that’s my fashion pose. Don’t you know a fashion pose when you see one?”

~ ~ ~

I bought ink cartridges the other day. We had to swiftly remortgage the house to compensate for the financial strain caused by said purchase.

~ ~ ~

I am going to make lunch reservations for Dan and I at our new favorite bistro (and yes, I will wear the new favorite jeans to samesaid favorite bistro) for next week because Dan and I do not do enough nice things together anymore. We were the people who vowed that we would read just as many books after kids as before. We’d go to movies and carry the children along in backpacks where we would let them enjoy healthy snacks like bananas and figs and flax seed oil. We’d eat fine food and drink fine wines.

Well, the wine, it’s still getting drunk but that’s more because of the children than in spite of them.

~ ~ ~

My dog absolutely fucking adores me. The same dog I swore I was going to send to the doggy fur coat making factory when he was in the business of pissing all over my new furniture last year. Same dog. He does not pee on things anymore and he acts like I am a beautifully wrapped present on christmas morn every single time he sees me. Even if it’s only been five minutes since our last encounter. In the morning he will not go downstairs until I do and if forced to go before I am ready he will wait for me at the bottom of the stairs and wiggle like I am the second coming of the dog bone making lady. He is my entourage. He applauds when I enter the room.

~ ~ ~

Madison is four and reading and will be way bored in Kindergarten next year because she will reading at a grade one level by then and nevermind, when she gets to grade one she will probably be ready for Chaucer’s The Canturbury Tails. I’m sure they have that book in grade one. I’m not worried.

~ ~ ~

I started scrapbooking when jacob was wee. I loved it because it involves paper and I love paper. Lay me on a bed of paper and I will be – well, laying on paper which isn’t so thrilling, but you know what I mean even if I have not said it well. That’s what I like about you. You get me. We have that bond or whatever.

The hell was I saying?

Oh ya, record keeping. Well Dan got me a scrapboking magazine as a stocking stuffer at Christmas and I’ve been beating myself up since. I’ve done but little scrapbooking sicne having Madison and I’m pretty major bummed about it. And after I am pretty major bummed about it I am going to go listen to some eighties music and crimp my hair.

Walk Like an Egyptian.

I was just over at fluid pudding and she had a year in review type of thing going on and I was all the more pretty major bummed. Because if I sat down and tried to review my year I don’t think you’d get more than:

I got one year closer to forty and that made me pretty major bummed

Because I keep no sort of record. Not even here, on my website, my journally type website. Because I disdain blogs as journals. Rather, I do not disndain them in gneneral but disdain the thought of keeping one myself. I fancy myself above that sort of thing. I fancy myself more of a sporadic-pointless-poster more than anything else. It’s my recipe for success, might not be yours.

Today I am going to try to do some kind of record keeping planning scrapbooking paper related goals for the year setting slash photography inspired thang. Between loads of laundry and the eighty five thousand times Madison will bounce in front of me saying MomMomMomMomMomMomMom and completely breaking my concentration.

What? What was I doing? What is my name? Who are you?

See, like that.

I’ll let you know how it goes. Only I won’t. Because as soon as I walk away I’ll forget I ever made such a promise because I will be busy getting crackers and keeping a certain four year old from jumping on top of her brother’s 200 dollar robot that he had to have but never plays with.

I realize that I have gone away on yet another unplanned hiatus. I’d like to claim it had something to do with the writer’s strike by way of trying to look important but it turns out I’ve just been trapped under a mountain of laundry and the children who created it. The funny thing about winter break is this: it’s no break.

Christmas was good and went off without a hitch despite my being completely ill-prepared and sick. Yes, sick. I got a cold day before. My nose is still running like a bandit getting away from the train robbery. You know that wet you just felt? It was my snot. Sorry.

I’d like to tell you about all the awesome gifts I got but it’s been so long that they are put away and forgotten. Oh but I remember I got this exact awesome hat and some ski socks and a pretty bracelet and other stuff that seriously? Can’t remember without thinking hard and I do not have time to think hard.

I’ve started running again (yes, in winter! i know! rock star!) and it feels good. I’ve got two pilates dvd’s coming in the mail and I am going to start weights next week. These things do not result from newyearsresolutions. I don’t do that.

Oh and omg I just remembered something else awesome we got for Christmas! After so many years of dreaming and hoping, TiVo has finally come to Canada and I? Well I am recording programming with reckless abandon and cannot imagine having ever been without this absolute necessity. Remember vhs? The Tyranasaurus Rex ate them. Oh how we laughed.

So, there you go. I’m back. Didjya miss me? Didjya?

Now tell me my hair looks pretty and get me a beverage.