The Breakaway

            My son withdrew from the peewee hockey league today.

            What?!

            After 7 years of grooming him for hockey, and coaxing his Canadian blood to the surface, he has decided to take a break from the sport that so many bloodied, broken and toothless people adore.

            Frankly, I’m impressed. At 12 years old, you wouldn’t think a kid would recognize burnout or be able to maturely look at the big picture. His shocking announcement came pretty much out of nowhere, and with phrases like “it’s too demanding”, “hockey is not my life”, “I just want more family time” and “I’m conflicted”, the only response a person could give would be “Okay…..but don’t say it out loud around Canadians.”

Now, I wonder if maybe my ‘encouragement’ was too forceful. I was, in fact, the consumer of several miniature sized hockey jerseys when he was merely months old. I have a picture of him smushed into a sitting position at about 5 months, wearing an incredibly small Canadiens red jersey. Eyes sparkling and smiling with joy (gas?), his big bald head tilted just perfectly to the side, I thought his gurgle sounds were baby-speak for “I can’t wait to get on the ice!” Maybe his insides were just all bent over and crushed and he was really trying to say “I’m about to fall over….and I can’t breathe. Can somebody please grab me…..?” Regardless, I was assured over and over of his commitment to the game and his love of the sport, but now I wonder if his words were not just a regurgitation of my words. Did I cause the burnout? Was I screening my own goalie?

As a parent, I find the line between encouragement (offense) and pressure (defense) so hard to find. I know I’m not one of those ‘helicopter’ parents, always hovering around and protecting the kid (after all, it was hockey…..a contact sport that involves hitting, sticks and blades, and not badminton), but peer pressure, external incentives, baits and popular persuasion already do a number on our kids, and as parents we are supposed to be supportive. But where do you draw the line? If your kid is already participating in more than a few activities, can we say ‘no’ to more, or will that label us as unsupportive and obstructive in our kids’ development? Frankly, I’m getting tired of being the ‘only mother in the whole world’ who doesn’t say ‘yes’ to everything. I know there are others who must feel overwhelmed for their overwhelmed children…because I see them….driving around town, frantic and disgruntled, wearing pajama bottoms and loosely tied boots….and I watch them as they hand off rarely eaten sandwiches and pre-packaged ‘nutritious’ energy drinks to their running and baggy-eyed kids. We all look at each other with that faraway ‘can you see I’m screaming inside’ look in the hopes that someone would just say it out loud; say that’s it’s all too much and that our kids are exhausted and our family life is practically non-existent! But no one does….we just all go along supporting, encouraging and promoting…..because that’s what we are supposed to do…..while the irony is that it is our 12 year old kids that are the ones that come to us and say “I need a break!” I feel like there should be a team of moms who draw the line en masse… and meet as a support group. The ‘Mother NO’s Best’ group. Honestly, who knows what we’re doing to our kids and if maybe they just really want to ride bikes around the neighborhood or sled on the hill the snowplow made. And as parents, we’re going to need our own defense team, because we can absolutely count on the fact that we will be at fault for something we’ve done or haven’t done….a delayed penalty for a line we let them cross, a board we encouraged they get slammed into, or for not backchecking soon enough.

To be honest, my thoughts on the hockey breakaway are the bittersweet kind. I love the game of hockey, as I am sure my son will always too. I will miss watching him float effortlessly along the ice and pivot on a dime in ways I wish I also could, but I will not miss freezing fingers and toes, the insanely late nights of practice, the lengthy and boring drives to other cold and bleak hockey towns, or the indescribable smell of hockey saturating my car all winter long. And not been lumped into the same category as Sarah Palin? Priceless.

But now what am I supposed to do with all those hand and foot warmers that I have stocked in bulk?