Last Thursday night I went back in time.
The kids had one of their monthly "skate parties" at an establishment that has been entertaining the gradeschool set for generations (well, at least 2): Skate Country.Chad typically draws this particular parental duty, but this week he told me, "I am not in the mood to make small talk with the other moms." I agreed to take my long overdue turn, in the back of my head thinking I could take a book and after an obligatory chat with the other parents, I imagined I could just slink off to a corner booth somewhere and read for a couple hours, interrupted only by the odd request for money for popcorn and slushies.
That, my dear readers, was not in the cards. First of all, Claire, never one to be left behind, insisted on joining us. She is an athletic little thing, and if ever a 4 year old could pull off rollerskating it would be Claire. But I began to sense my quiet night rolling off into the sunset.
So we arrived and I paid for skates and entry for the 3 kids, still hoping against hope I could avoid any skating. No such luck. It took all of about 7 seconds after lacing everyone up to realize that someone a bit steadier on wheels (which I dearly hoped I was) would be a required assistant. I went out to the window, paid for my skates, and realized anew why bowling and roller skating are not preferred activities for the giant footed among us. Must they really blaze the shoe size on the back heel of the ugliest footwear imagineable? Does that not seem excessive?
At any rate, I also quickly learned that the hazards of giant feet were to be the inherited inconvenience of my second daughter. I also learned that sometime in the last 3 months, Claire's feet have indeed reached the exact same size as her big brother's. This has been our most compelling "eat your vegetables" threat to little Sam for the past 3 years or so. Poor Claire, being just 4 years old, required the kiddy version of skates which strap around your tennis shoes. These skates didn't extend far enough for her, so they had to rig her up in a hybrid version involving cardboard and velcro. Poor thing. Remarkably, however, she figured things out very quickly and made her way to the concrete skating circle smiling and willing. You can't help but love this little girl in situations like this--she is so cheery and uncomplaining, merrily picking herself up after each of her numerous wipe outs and watching the bigger kids zip around her without the merest hint of wistfulness. She is just happy to be included and is never more content than when she is engaged in some sort of physical activity alongside the big kids. Very quickly, my friend Jenny's daughter Ava found her, and to Jenny and my delight, the two girls spent the rest of the evening hand in hand, carefully making their way around the innermost circle. They were quickly joined by Jenny's other daughter, Madeline, who took Claire's other hand, and the three girls were so adorable Jenny and I both wished we had our cameras, though neither of us are the kind of mom who regularly remember that sort of thing.
Sam was another story. He refused the "baby skates" (which of course his sister had proven would not have fit him anyway) and doggedly attempted to find his legs on the normal "quad skates". He couldn't quite catch his balance, and spent most of the evening in the most spectacular attempts--legs and arms flailing, windmilling, face scowling and determined. He spent the first half hour or so pouting on the sidelines, irritated at his clumsiness and (in some unfair but universal logic) blaming his mother for his lack of capabilities. After awhile, however, he realized that all the first graders were picking their way around the walls at the outer circle, and he eventually joined them. I tried a few times to skate near him, but I was alternately too terrified to watch (really, his flailing was dazzlingly grandiose) and consumed with giggles (when I wasn't envisioning broken wrists and concussions it was actually quite hilarious).
Grace is actually a great success story. 2 years ago at her first skate party, Chad came home shaking his head when she turned her back. She was not exactly a roller queen. But Thursday she was excellent—on roller blades, no less. For the sake of this story, there just isn’t much to tell with regards to Gracie. In keeping with her usual self, she does not take to athletic endeavors completely effortlessly, but with a few practice runs, she finds her (ahem) grace and confidence and independence and away she goes. My big, big girl.
But back to my novices. Sam & Claire taught me a very important lesson I would have never had cause to learn before--roller skating is infinitely more difficult when you are flanked by writhing, swinging, twirling little people whose skates dart in and out of your skate path and whose full weight might suddenly and unexpectedly drag you down on one side or another. I was once a fairly accomplished skater. Really. But I was somewhat shorter then, more physically fit, and never dragged down by the weight of one or more little people.
Which brings us to the question of the day. Did Mama Duck survive the trip down memory lane on wheels unscathed? The answer, alas, is no. I wiped out. With all of Sam's flourish and none of his grace all 6 feet something of me tumbled ass over apple carts to my substantially padded backside bringing my own children, my friend Jenny, the skate country employees, and several friends of my children and me skating over in alarm. I imagine it was quite terrifying to behold as it was quite horrifying to live. But, other than my pride, I was completely unharmed.
And, quite honestly, I think many of the kids felt a certain solidarity with me after that. But, for the record, Chad is up for the next 4-5 skate parties. I’m just not sure I’m up to it
