Confessions of a hockey mom

4 Mar

I have a confession to make. Its a bad one so get ready.

I am a hockey mom.


Kinda like this??

Like a 100% through and through hockey hockey hockey mom. I love to watch my son play, i love to watch any of our local teams play, i love to cheer and I love to just get wrapped up in it.

Photo Feb 11, 11 21 01 AM











I have a friend who has the same affliction with her own son. We really just want them to play and have fun, but when we get to the rink and that whistle blows and the puck is dropped, its like a switch gets flipped inside us. We want our kids to play to their full potential. We want them to win.

I’ve quit living in denial about my condition. I have started taking steps to help counteract the level of competitiveness I get overcome with. I no longer sit with the other members of our team in the stands. Its just too easy for me to get caught up in the crowd frenzy. I don’t even sit outside at all anymore. I watch the game from inside where it is relatively quiet and I would just look like a complete idiot if i screamed or cheered too loudly.

I don’t go in the dressing room anymore except to tie skates right before the game, bring him his midgame snack and drink (which is usually followed by a “good game, keep up the good work” sentiment and I’m out) and after the game I untie skates and leave. I don’t discuss the game once we leave the rink.

My son and I have a similar sarcastic sense of humor and will joke and tease each other about it. He teases me about how crazy I am and I tease him about playing harder or else. To know us is to understand, but I have friends who are certain I have messed him up for life. They don’t see the other side. The side where the jokes stop and I look him in the eyes and tell him i could care less how he plays or even if he plays, that im proud of him for going out there and trying. That his ability to play hockey is only a tiny aspect of who he is as a person. That its not even remotely close to the real reasons I am so proud to call him my son.

But this isn’t about him. This is about me and my addiction and illness. I have no idea where it comes from or when it started, but I’ve got. Hockey mom -i-tis.

My name is Crystal and I. Am. A. Hockey. Mom.


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