The Sorta Show Skater

"I can't skate," I warned Coach as we stepped on the ice. Two weeks of load in, hang and focus on top of my work and skating schedule was taking a serious toll. I was physically and mentally exhausted, bruised and hurting in a lot of places, and Tech Week was still to go. "This show is killing me."

"If you think you can't skate by your lesson time, just let me know," he seemed understanding. (He's a former show skater.) He went off to teach a little girl for the first half of the session, and I went to play around.

Well, the little girl was off and on the ice, being a little girl. And Coach happened to look my way right when I got bodily lost somewhere between an inside edge and a mohawk and took a fall. "I don't think we should skate today," he laughed.

"I'm fine, I can skate!" I popped right back up, completely unhurt but shaky from Tired. "I'm tough." I don't know who I was trying to convince, but he laughed at me.

I took it easy from there on out. Whatever happened, happened, and if it didn't I wasn't going to beat myself up about it. There simply wasn't any point in expecting too much out of myself this week. I let it go. Tech Week was either going to go smoothly or not, but I can only focus on one thing at a time.

Coach came back to me again when his student went to re-tie her skates. "Let's see those mohawks." I can't express enough how happy his ability to squeeze every second makes me. So we did Mohawks while little girl retied. And he made them a little better.

Little girl came back, and he went back to her. I started playing the music we're going to use for Ice Show, and I got excited. Yes, Ice Show is going to start revving up pretty much right after Tech Week, so I'm going to go from a Late-Night Theatre Schedule right into an Early Morning Skating Training schedule. And I mean hardcore. I'm being given the Solo of my Dreams, and I want this right.

Little Girl finally left, and Coach came back to me. We worked on Spins, Forward and Sit, and those are starting to come together. And then we worked on jumps. My salchow is much improved and it feels way better. Not so scary anymore, starting to become fun. We worked on Toe Loop, and while there's a lot of room for improvement, it's well on its way.

Then we came back to Half Loop, one we haven't looked at in awhile. I started to protest, given how tired I was, but when I protest anything Coach acts like I'm not speaking at all. Which is kinda funny, because I can see he hears me, he just doesn't respond. So I just went with it. If it happens, great. If not, okay. And surprisingly, it clicked this time. Coach held my hand for a few tries, and then I let go. "I think I got this," and then I did a small one by myself.

What happened next was utter insanity.

"Okay, now do a waltz jump, but land it with your free leg in front."
"Okay..." I did that.
"Do it again, and then go right into a half loop."
"What? No."
**No response.**
"Fine." I eke it through.
"Do that again...."
"Okay..." I stumble through it again.
"Now. Do the waltz, half loop, then swing right into a sal."
"That's crazy. You're crazy. No."
**No response.**
"This is crazy." And I had to give myself a little push to make it into the salchow, but the coordination was there. I just needed speed.
"And again,"

So we did it until the Zam chased us off, and I was having an utter ball by then. I really hope this sticks, because he said, "We can put this in your program." He knows how excited I am about this solo.

So, here's hoping I get my music this weekend, so I can start putting one show away (at least until strike) and start work on my next!

Guess who is going to Skate America?

It's been a rough couple of weeks. Office work and nonstop events happening in the evenings have made my life much too hectic for my taste, and there have been points were I genuinely feel I'm losing my mind.

I was lacing up the other day, and noticed an advertisement for Skate America that had been posted on the Broomball bulletin board. Why was it on the Broomball board?? The skating school bulletin board sat largely empty just six feet away... anyway, there it was, and while I knew the event was coming, I didn't realize tickets were on sale.

I had a meeting get suddenly cancelled last night, so Stitch and I got a nice night off, playing with glow sticks and eating a banana cream pie for dinner in the front yard. I figured I deserved a treat. And on that same line, I went ahead and bought myself an All Event Pass to Skate America. My seat is eight rows back from the ice. I had worse seats at Home Rink's Ice Show last Friday.

I'm going to a Grand Prix event, and this is really cool. By the time it's over, I may have seen enough skating to make my ears bleed. Will they skate to "Let it Go?" Can we have a Costume Bingo? Do they serve beer? All pressing questions.

Is it okay to eat concessions like crazy while being constantly reminded of the

tiny dresses you need to fit into?

If you decide to come to Skate America at the Sears Centre, I can tell you that there really isn't a bad seat in the house. It's a nice arena, a bit in the middle of nowhere but easy enough to get to and find. And if you see someone in a Swarovski hat in section 115, come say hi!

Old Spotlight is Old

The show seems determined to have only three spotlights. Friday matinee, they had only three operators. Friday night, a lamp blew. The lighting dude, (who is a freelance video guy by actual profession and needs money so he took this gig) was fussing for the op to pull out the blue gel, when in reality that was a 1000 watt lamp in her death throes. They removed the unit, moved my trouperette, and I pulled double duty for Act 2. No worries.

Saturday matinee, the lamp was replaced, but went out again at the top of Act 2. The Lighting Dude and the Op were fussing with it, turning it on and off again, and so I stepped over. The lamp was good, the fan was on, so my head said "bad socket." Sockets do die after a time, and this light is easily forty years old. She's likely overdue for a new socket. I took off my jacket to handle the lamp, reseated it firmly, and it worked.

But it kept dying throughout Act 2. It would die, then work again, die, work again, and then die. I watched the operator. When it died, he'd nose it up in frustration, and then it would start to work again so he'd aim it down, and then it would die. That lamp is slipping out.

When the show was done, I stepped over with a flashlight and a paper clip. I pulled out the lamp, still fine, and pulled out the spring latch inside the socket, which should better hold the lamp. I turned it on and flung it up and down a few times, trying to unseat the lamp and I couldn't do it. Win.

At the evening show I told the Lighting Dude what I had done, and how to avoid the issue. Whenever the spot is not on someone, she needs to be nosed up, using gravity to help keep the lamp in place. I'd also be around to pull the latch again, but she should hold. When Spot 2 didn't die at all Saturday night, the other Ops said I threatened it into working.

Today I get to watch Stitch for real. I'm not working supposedly, but I do have a dress to re-iron and drop off this morning.

He's been having a grand time, bouncing around, humming the music, playing in the dressing room. The boys actually got their own dressing room this time, not a corner of the gym, and it's beautiful. I love it. They're making Zuca trains, which is great for them but bad for the wire hangers they're using as couplers.

He's been imitating the bigger skaters, trying their off-ice jumps. He says he'd like a solo next year. I said he'd have to work hard, but I think he could do it! Coach wants him to have one, too. She's stated before that one of her goals is a solo for him next year. There's a lot of freestyle boys around, their number is pretty big in comparison to last year, so the competition for it might be pretty stiff. Of course, if they gave back more solo parts that actually belong to males and not gender bend to accomodate the girls, things might be different. We'll see.

I was thinking last night, remembering why I put Stitch in the shows. He always says that he doesn't want to do them, yet when he's actually performing he's having a ball. He's good as gold, too. When I put his skates on him, I reminded him to take his watch off before he went on. Last night when I went to go collect him, he looked at me in horror and said, "Mom, I forgot to take my watch off, so I hid it undr my sleeve! Do you think anyone noticed?"

I said probably not.

The coaches seem to be getting some fun Stitch moments as well. Someone told me about a moment where Stitch asked the group at large, "Raise your hand if you fell!"

Through it all, I'm glad we did it. Perhaps next time my railings about badly dressing the boys will have had an impact. They deserve more and better than what they currently get. And yes, I do spot the Tot Boys as long as I can.

Ice Show Bingo

In an effort to lighten the mood, I've decided to offer up Ice Show Bingo! Rules are like classic Bingo, except when a Skater runs into scenery, the first one to shout "Bingo!" wins regardless of the card. In this respect, it's more like Sudden Death Bingo.

I appreciate all the support I've been getting on this issue. Hopefully my freakout will not be in vain!

Plain Red Turtlenecks

The costumes arrived Wednesday in a flurry of tulle and glitter. When I stopped by to drop off some sewing, I asked what the Boy's outfits were, and I got handed a metallic red button down. Plain, but okay. I could live with it.

Imagine my horror when the real outfit was not a metallic red button down. It was a plain red cotton turtleneck, bought at Target. How do we know? The tags were still on them. Worse, they were all too big. Stitch's hit him at his knees, and he wasn't the only one with that problem.

Soak this in for a minute. We parents of boys paid our money for a costume, not an outfit we could have picked up for school wear. Here were all these girls in glitter and frills, and here come the boys in ill-fitting plain turtlenecks. Dumpy, frumpy, and stupid looking, and all the boys knew it. Even thenTot boys were in plain white turtlenecks, sorely out of place with their glittery, fairy winged girls standing right next to them.

So, with a heavy heart, I went to join the ranks of the complainers. I knew the people I was complaining to were not the right people, so I kept it to a short rant and a "We need to do something."

When the boys were done with their number, we hijacked their shirts. We trimmed them, no time to hem, glittered and painted them. I stayed until roughly midnight, and I had to leave so Stitch could get to bed. He had school in the morning. They look better, more like an actual costume and not a Target purchase, but I still hate them. I hate them because they are everything that isn't fair about that show. Not a soloist? Go away. In a Group Number? No one really cares about those. Have a suggestion? Screw off. Want to help? Don't call us, we'll call you.

I glued appliques and stones on the Tot Boys turtlenecks, too. Someone has got to advocate for these little boys.

Notes were left on the costumes, stating "unavoidable delays" and "everyone will look great." Nonsense, don't buy it. A City Manager with his head up his ass is not an "unavoidable delay," and nothing says "fresh out of the package with no time to fall" like a girl with a tutu up around her chest.

But I'm just a Lunatic, Neurotic Mom, so I'm fairly sure that my complaints won't go far. I don't know how many more shows Stitch can do. I don't know how much more I can take of watching him do short choreography in a crap outfit, knowing I'm paying out the ass for the privilege. And there's only so many times I can be accused of being a lunatic before I become one.

Why We Won't Light the Ice Show

It may have come as a bit of a surprise to some that my company won't bid the lighting for my rink. There's a reason, and the reason is that the company needs to earn an income.

I've stated before that our area is saturated with Ice Rinks, and most Rinks will do two shows a year. On the surface, this could mean a lot of money.

Trouble is, our area is also saturated with Lighting Companies, and the Ice Rinks know this. The Rinks, run by municipal Park Districts mostly, will all run out and get competing bids for the lighting and labor, with the lowest lighting company winning regardless of the quality of lighting package being delivered. (This is why you get trashy silver parcans and Big Bertha the Spotlight.)

To make matters worse, Ice Rinks have all the Teapot Tempests of Betsy Ballet, but in a space that is tremendously difficult to work in. For a Freelance Lighting Technician to get called "work an Ice Show" in our area is one of those nightmarish rites of passage, reserved for the newbies right out of college, or folks we only call if we have to. Everyone else turned it down. The call always takes longer than stated, since the Ice Rink People always lowball the time they need, the pay is slow since the Ice Rink People aren't fast on cash, (Dad did an Ice Show in the late 90's and still hasn't been paid) and the call is awful since, well, you're in the rafters of a cold ice rink all day.

Our company used to do a lot of ice shows, but it's been company policy to slowly remove ourselves from them. That became policy for a lot of lighting companies, actually, and now only a small handful of lighting companies tackle them. Simple truth, they were unprofitable and a total pain. The Ice Rinks were demanding more, but unwilling to pay more than they had in previous years. Labor costs were going up, but there was no increase in what we were able to charge.

When the owner of my company sent a letter to the Rinks, detailing a sudden increase in what the rinks were going to pay for their shows and why, the Rinks screamed foul and most of them left.

It wasn't a big loss. In talking to the guys who have done the lighting for the Ice Show, I'm glad I'm not involved. They've both described Rink Management as uncommunicative, difficult, and blase until something goes wrong. Typical, really. I've seen this kind of behavior before, and it's hard to do a show under people like that. And to know that sometimes their checks arrive six months after the final curtain, I'm happy to stay a part time volunteer.

Again, if I were asked, I'd be happy to provide advice on cheap methods of good design. But whatevs. So, no, it's not my company doing the lighting. We just don't want to work for cheap anymore, but for some reason I do work for free.

I can't explain that.

T-Minus Five, Four...

Thursday is Dress Rehearsal, and with any luck we'll have costumes for the little kids. If not, Dad had the great idea to switch the plot of the show to a mysterious uncle who, instead of giving out toys to his niece, gives her clothes. This is just crazy enough to work.

I spent a lot of time in the costume shop behind the rickety old sewing machine, coaxing a few more stitches out of it, listening to the chaos around me and keeping my head down. Parents were told again and again; no colored underwear, no flesh colored leotards, bring your own tights, yes you were told, you just forgot, no your outfit is not here, and fussing on your way out the door makes us not like you. You want us to like you.

I altered four dresses, embellished four dresses, reseamed a pair of pants, hemmed a bunch of stuff and repaired a lot of trim. And the group costumes aren't here, so if they don't fit, those kids might be SOL. That sucks, because they paid their monies to be involved as much as any soloist, so it's not fair that they get shafted like this. If Stitch's costume doesn't fit, it can come home with me for a fast tuck and hem. But not every parent can sew. I'm temoted to bring in Johnny Weir and set up shop in the gym, just to get what I can done.

But wait, there's more! Early last Tuesday we got a Fax from the rink. It was the lighting rental list. We won't bid it since we don't do many ice shows anymore, but I dropped an email to the people who usually provide the rink's show lighting. He said they had not gotten a confirmation of anything yet. Suddenly I felt a distinct longing for my old nemesis, Big Bertha. Not one of the sequins we'd sewed would matter without her.

My stomach began to revolt late Friday, and when I wasn't sewing I was queasing around, looking for something to do. Or worse, something to eat.  I got locked in a vicious cycle of cookies to nausea to cookies to nausea and back to cookies again. And those Little Debbie Christmas Tree Cakes. Stitch was enjoying my sudden junk food spree, not questioning it. He practiced and skated and rehearsed and had a grand time without me.

"How was rehearsal?" I'd ask him.
"Fun!" He'd say, and tell me all about how the other kids fell or messed up or made the coaches crazy.
I'd cringe at the pile of repairs on the sewing table, wondering if we'd have to bust out old costumes from the Sale to make do, to say nothing of doing it under stadium lights.
"Can I have a dollar?" He'd ask.
"For what?"
"A snack."
"Sure, here's a ten. Get me a bag of chips, a diet coke and a snickers bar."

Finally on Sunday I'd had enough of the Junk Cycle. I had to break it and soothe my tummy. Everything is going to be all right. Stitch and I bought two pounds of fresh ginger root, a bag of sugar, and went home to candy it.

Ginger, as you may know, is good for settling one's stomach. It's also spicy enough to keep you from mowing through it too fast. Using equal parts sugar and water, we boiled the sliced ginger for about a half hour and dried it for five hours after that. (We did errands and public skate while it dried.) We tossed the sticky slices in dry sugar, and we had the perfect show snack. The leftover syrup we kept in jars, and we're mixing that with seltzer water.

It's going to be all right. Next year we'll have a new set of disasters, and we'll laugh about those, too.

Oh, and my in-laws are coming in Sunday to see the show. They're staying overnight, too.

Counting Down to Showtime

For a month now, I've maintained the line that the reason why Stitch is only in one show number is because it would be too much for us to commit to two rehearsal schedules and prepare for a competition right behind the show. Other mothers gave me small nods but I could hear the subtext. I shrugged it off, choosing to listen to Stitch who repeatedly thanked me for my executive decision and said "maybe next year" he could be in that other number.

Imagine my chagrin when I listened to another coach wonder out loud if it was time to boot some kid from a number, because he'd only been to one rehearsal out of five. I said he'd been at just about every rehearsal for the other number he was in, so perhaps doing two was a strain on the family schedule.

Then, talking with MsV in the booth one morning, she said they were dropping out of the January Comp, because the dual rehearsal schedules and holiday vacations (of Coach and herself) simply wouldn't give him time to adequately prepare.

I nodded and sympathized, but deep down I was patting myself on the back. Would I have liked to see Stitch in more than one number? Sure, but I don't want to kill him or make me crazy in the process. Perhaps someday when he has a solo for one night, then he can do those two numbers; his solo and the group. (Besides, with him in Act 2, he can hang with me for the first half and avoid the chaos of the dressing room.)

The show date presses closer and there's a lot to do. Rink Friends who read this: When asking where the Group Number costumes are, call the City Manager and ask him. He is the one who refused to front the money for them, and so they were ordered when all the checks cleared, which was late last week by my statement, so those outfits will be showing up maybe in time for dress rehearsal. Again, don't ask us, call the City Manager and bitch at him. I'll have his phone number handy for you. You can even use my cell phone, I have unlimited minutes.

In the meantime, soloist outfits and the costumes we do have are being repaired, bedazzled and tailored. I have two right now waiting at home. Honestly, they all look pretty good. Some more worn than others, but all in all, not bad. (But it's clear when someone had a pizza party in the dressing room, by the staining on a few choice white satin leotards.)

I'm glad I'm in the costume room, because I'm blissfully isolated from all the Coach Hopping talk going on in the Rink. Honestly, I just don't care. I feel bad for the Coaches who are being blamed, pared back, or left behind as their students seek to "go somewhere" (wherever that is) but I'm keeping us away from it. I've had enough rink drama for now, and I'm sure the next two weeks will be more than enough.

I stepped out for awhile to collect Stitch from rehearsal, only to find the Coach doing a Boy Practice. The boys were goading each other on, counting spins and jumps, teasing each other and being boys. It was a rare sight, and the Coach came over to explain things, "Just a little fun," he said. I told him to have as much fun as he pleased. Tell Stitch to report to the Costume Room when they were done.

Stitch is enjoying the notion that the frilly skating girls are really quite nasty. I told him about the crusty and stained leotards, which sent him into fits of laughter. One morning as we were heading out the door, I told him he would be spending the first hour with me in the Costume Room while girls tried on their outfits.

"Oh good," he takes a pad of graph paper.
"What are you bringing that for?"
"So I can make a Beauty Scale. You know, one hundred percent, ten percent, how pretty they are."
"Please, for the love of pete, don't do that."
"Why not?"
"They have enough issues."

Costume Conundrum!

Disclaimer: I find all Parties in the following post to be perfectly likable, agreeable people. This post reflects my opinion on the given issue, and should not be construed into any negative opinion of anyone.



My lack of posting lately is not for lack of content. Between competition prep, finding a new and sane mom to talk to, and the gathering forces of Winter Show approaching, I have lots to think about.

But it's touchy. People are at odds with each other and I am loathe to take sides. Coaches are complaining that they are being accused of favoritism, parents are complaining that the rehearsal schedule is being switched around, and kids are being kids.

In the Costume Room, there is a particular heated debate going on over the nature of Winter Show, and how that affects the costuming of the skaters.

Last year, I noted that most of the soloist costumes were the same, which made sense to me. The ones that didn't have a similar costume to the soloist in the same role the previous night, I figured that there was not a costume of that type in her size, so the costumers were making do.

I was only half right.

Costumer A comes to me and says that Moms and Daughters are being overly picky about the costumes being assigned to them. Costumer A says that "This is the role, and this is the dress for that role."

Costumer B says, "If you don't like the dress, feel free to choose something else. We want you to have a good show experience here!"

I stand with Costumer A, and here's why:

Spring Show and Exhibition are a series of fun skating numbers strung together. In a show of this kind, sure, feel free to wear whatever looks good on you. That's fine. You're not telling a larger story, you're not performing with others, you're just you. Please, by all means, look as good as you can.

Winter Show, however, is telling a story. Specific characters are supposed to do specific things and look a specific way to further the story. Remember the "performer" bit, where everything you do adds to or detracts from the Performance? Yeah, that applies to what you're wearing, too. If you're a Housemaid, then maybe you aren't supposed to be cute and frilly. You're cleaning the stupid house. Only women in Pledge commercials look cute and frilly while housecleaning. Real people look a bit dowdy. Now, of course a "dowdy" outfit at a skating rink will be all black sequins with silver trim, so take that with a grain of salt. If our ingenue showed up one night in heavy purple eyeshadow, false eyelashes, overdone rouge and fire engine lipstick, (because she thought she looked good in it,) that would be completely inappropriate for the "Young Child" role she was playing.

But Moms and Daughters are coming back with their assigned Winter Show outfits, complaining that they don't like them and would like to choose something else. This has Costumer A in fits, Costumer B scurrying to the racks to find something "suitable," and my fellow Skating Mom and I in hysterics. (She's new, too, and also a Theatre Person.)

Our resolution?

We will be patiently explaining to Moms and Daughters that this is the outfit for the role. You wear it or don't. And when we say "don't," that means you can forfeit your solo to one of the dozens of eager little girls who would be happy to have it (and the dress.) They're right outside, I can go get one of them now.
In a Real World situation, a skater in a professional ice show is going to have no say at all in what she wears. ("You're in the giant Nemo head," sparked some rather lively laughter.) An actor in a play has very little say about what they will be wearing. I don't know about competitive skaters, but I would imagine the same holds true for them: They may get some say, but the final decision rests with someone else. (Any Pro Skater stopping by, please fill us in!)

Kids, this is all part of being a Professional. A Professional doesn't waste time whining about their costumes. They put them on, play their part, and years down the road they will laugh with their friends, "You wouldn't beleeeeive the crazy thing I wore for that show!"

But what do you think, Readers? Do you think an Ice Show that tells a story like a play should allow the skaters to dress themselves? Or should we keep wardrobe in the hands of those who are seeing the larger picture and not just individuals? Take the poll in the sidebar!

"It's not how long you're here..."

"...it's how many times you're here in a day."  Such was what I overheard a parent say in the stands once.

With Stitch gone, I cleaned up a bit and walked to the rink. I was meeting Costume Lady #3 to "help." I wasn't too sure what we'd be doing, but just cleaning up seemed like a good task.

I arrived with twenty minutes left in the Pre-Style classes left. I ran into Lady Cluck on my way in, said hey and went to go check on her kids. Her kids were fine, her older daughter trying a two foot spin. And I saw Shuffles. I realized I hadn't seen Shuffles in months. He was in an Alpha class, miserably going round and round, both feet still planted firmly on the ice. Oh, Shuffles, I sympathize. That first lift is hard.

I went back out and, just out of some sick desire for punishment, went to say hello to Nutso. She seemed happy enough to see me, and asked where Stitch was. I told her he's gone and would be back in the fall.
"What level is he in now? We don't see him."
"Oh, uh, he'll be going into Freestyle 2 when he gets back." I suddenly felt a little dirty, even though I knew and had proof that Stitch's levels were all legit.
Nutso was smiling. "That's nice! Well, Precious has said that she doesn't want to be a Toy Soldier for Ice Show, which means she has to be in Delta. I would be surprised if she doesn't pass Gamma, so it should be okay."
"Should be. Mohawks are tricky, though. Stitch had a weak side. Still does, actually." And, I was learning that I did, too. "I'm not sure if I should enroll him in the Saturday package. I need to ask Coach." Nutso didn't need to know the reasons for my ambivalence.
"Are you still doing Privates?" she asked.
"Uh, yes. Coach does really well with Stitch, I'm really happy. I just don't know about that Saturday thing."
"Oh!" she threw up her hands. "That is my goal! That is the best deal! Once I can get the kids into that Saturday Package, I will consider my life complete!"
"What?"
"It's all the skating they need, all in one day! One morning! It's perfect! What is it, three hours?"
"I can't remember. I know it's a good deal, but they need to be on the ice more than once a week."
"Oh, sure, if they're competitive," she leaned across the table at me. "But not for my kids. Once a week is plenty for them."

As I was processing this, Lady Cluck walked behind us, making the sign of the cross as she went into the rink. Nutso laughed, thinking it was a joke.
"So, if Stitch is gone, why are you here?" Nutso asked.
"Oh, gonna help with costumes today."
"What, for Winter Show? Now?"
"Yes." And really, things should be farther along than they are.
"Well," Nutso saw an opportunity to whine. "Why don't they do that out here? So the parents can see? We should have some input!"
"These are for the soloists and specialty groups. The Basic Skills groups will just get the PreFab costumes, that seems to be the norm."
Nutso blinked, and I think I broke her brain.
"Well," I stood up. "Imma gonna head in. Still hot from the walk here."
"Tell me how Shuffles is doing!" she called after me.
Lady, he's miserable. He has been for a long time.

After taking skates off kids and talking more with Lady Cluck, I went to go "do costumes."

The costume room was a pit of spangles, velvet and a lost box of fabric without which  no work could be done. Costume Lady #3 sighed and lamented at the lost box, whereupon Costume Lady #2 showed up and said, "But you took it home. Remember?"
They bickered back and forth while I picked through a box leftover from the costume sale, trying to organize it. It was a matter of minutes before I had a headband of silver sequins and was wearing purple lame gloves like Madonna. "I can put things away," I offered.

So they set me to rehanging things. Costume Lady #3 apologized and went home. I rehung things for a little over an hour, marveling at just how many leftover PreFab costume packages there were. In fact, most of the room is storage. I did enjoy the debate of "we don't have nearly enough sequins," when I looked over and saw a cabinet full of more sequins than I could possibly dream of.

I was up and down on a ladder once too often before I realized I'd forgotten to eat breakfast. I told Costume Lady #2 to call me whenever, I was free all week in the evenings, and went home to grab lunch. I'd be back later that evening, to conquer my new nemesis; The Hockey Circle. He and I had some unfinished business concerning my outside edges.

Who is that skater?

During Spring Show I really enjoyed one of the numbers in the first act. It was a trio of three very high level and talented skaters. I knew who the two boys were, but I couldn't for the life of me figure out who the third one was, the girl. I watched every night, picking my brain, trying to remember where I might have seen a skating student of that size and approximate age doing the moves that this girl did.

Turns out my premise was wrong, which was why I couldn't figure it out. It wasn't a student. It was a Coach.

I only found out when I was cleaning out the detritus from the show and I got a program, and I looked up the name. Yup. Coach.

I have no problem with Coaches doing numbers in ice shows, so long as their numbers are short, silly, shared and are made to feel like an add-on to any existing line-up of acts. It should have the same feel as when the summer camp counselors sang that silly song at the final Summer Campfire. "And now, your coaches!" is what the announcer should read. This is fine by me. But on the whole, I don't expect to see a Coach skate like that, because I already assume that a Coach can skate pretty competently.

But more importantly, Grandma didn't come here to watch Coach skate. She came here to watch Muffy skate. Grandma doesn't care about Coach. Coach? Who's that? Where's Muffy? Right, she got stuck in the dressing room, because Coach decided she wanted to skate in the show.

For a Coach to effectively take a leading role away from a student skater in a show created for the student skaters is pretty arrogant and plenty childish. And the excuse of, "Well, there wasn't a female of equal skill to round out the number for the guys" is bullshit. One, if there's no female of equal skill, that speaks to the Coaching in general, so that makes Coach(es?) look bad. Two, if a Coach can't create a decent show number for two high level guys, that makes Coach look unimaginative. And also bad.

Why was this allowed to happen? Who approved this? Why did no one say, "You know, as a Coach, you effectively abrogate your place as a star. Your stars are your students, they shine for you. If they don't shine, then neither do you." For a Coach to not possess the maturity to step back and allow her Students to take the spotlight is highly questionable. If I were one of her parents, this would make me rethink things.

There's a Christmas Carol that comes on the radio that I absolutely cannot stand. It's Lennon's "Happy Christmas." I hate it because at the end, the children's choir is singing and then some woman's voice rises up over theirs, overpowering them. For years I thought that was their director or something, I thought it incredibly rude for this choir director to overpower her student's singing with her own, especially in a song that was being played nationally.

I learned later in life that wasn't the choir director, that's Yoko Ono. We all know what she did. (And she sounds terrible.)

And then I got to be Mom

After a night where I was a hair shy of dropping headset and storming to the ice to demand where my kid was, I got to be Just Mom.

Saturday night was great. Everyone was skating well, the house was responsive (if loud) and the kids were watching from my side of the house. All good. From where I was, I could see the kids heading in from the dressing room to the ice. Every night, I had seen Stitch heading into the rink and I was reassured that things were fine and proceeding normally. Not Saturday. Saturday I saw two boys heading back. No Stitch.

The Parental Mind has this amazing habit of creating the absolute worst case scenario in the event that a child, their child, is missing for more than five seconds. My mind is no exception. Not only was Stitch not on the ice, he was surely curled in a corner of the dressing room, crying over a broken arm after being hit with twelve dodgeballs at the same time, his skate blades shattered, his eye bruised and no one comforting him because all the coaches were on the ice. This is where Stitch was, I was without a shadow of a doubt. Once my cue was done, I dropped headset and ran to the nearest momunteer, who seemed a Clueless, and asked, "There were three boys in the PreFree number, I only saw two. Where is the third?"
"Wha..." she blinked at me.
"Where there two, or were there three? Boys. Small boys. Specifically a towhaired kid."
"I don't know."
"Little boys. You saw them?"
"Yes."
"How many did you see?"
"Three."
"Okay." I was out of time, and not reassured since there are three boys in the other Boy Number and this woman seemed confused. I sat on spotlight, ready to lose it if Stitch did not appear.

And he did. He came out and performed beautifully. He just slipped by me is all. Well, now I feel silly. The show ended without a hitch, Grandma and her companion bought him roses, Rink Pal gave him a stuffed bear, and all was right with the world.

Today, last show, Stitch and I walked to the Rink. He had a cupcake at the "Cast Party" or whatever, we hung out and I took pictures because I was Just Mom today. It felt good. Stitch would sit with me in the house for the first act, and then I would take him backstage to get him set up to go. He played in the gym/dressing room for awhile, with several girls flirting and playing with him. They'd run up to him, he'd tell them they were "a beauty to my eye," and they'd squeal and take off running, with Stitch chasing after yelling that he wanted to marry them. I took pictures.

We slipped in the back door with my badge and took some good seats. The LD told me I might have to cover spot for the first five minutes since a guy was running late, and this was fine. I put Stitch on headset and had him check in with the booth for me. He thought this was hilarious. I took more pictures.

The other Spot Op showed up and I got to relax. Stitch and I watched the skaters and I finally got to hear the lyrics and announcements and things. "See that one?" I pointed to the amazing young man doing triple jumps. "I hear he's going for the Olympics. I think he could do it."
Stitch nodded, rapt.
"But don't do the Death Drops he does, you're not allowed," I said.
"Why?" Stitch looks upset.
"Because it will give me a heart attack."
"Oh, I'll learn," he laughs at me.

We headed down before the Synchro girls went on, just to give me some extra time, and headed back to the dressing room. I put him in costume and skates, wished him luck, got a Diet Coke and headed back up. Act II was just as good, with The Boys performing their best program ever. They didn't drop the ball, literally. Stitch was hamming and even dragged out his lunge for added applause. I was proud of him, video'ing the whole thing.

When it ended I headed to get him, and Dad was already there. "What are you doing here," I was a bit surprised, as he was supposed to be home with the In-Laws.
"It's raining, thought you'd like a ride."
Stitch is looking upset. "I lost my blade guards!"
I took a quick look in the rink, only finding one that had been kicked under an ice door. "Sorry, Stitch," I handed it to him. "Give it a day or two and we'll check the office. Even if it doesn't turn up, we can get a new pair. It's okay."
"But.."
"Stop." If this is the worst that happens during this show, we're blessed. Rink people, if you find a filthy red glitter guard that fits a 8 1/2" blade, put it in the office, please. (See why I shun $$LED$$ guards?)

And that's it. Spring Show is done. It's kind of anticlimactic, and Stitch seemed to be in the post-show/post-comp funk during dinner. We headed to the bookstore and I got him a Captain Underpants book for such a good run, which picked him up. As we were walking back to the car, he told me of his line up partner not listening to a Coach, who summarily put the Boy over his knee and spanked him. How much truth there is in this, I don't know, but it's still absolutely hilarious. This broke the Funk.

 I would get started on the jacket, but I'm tired and I need more time to get involved in it. I'm just glad it's all cut and ready to go. Tonight, I'll just relax some more, being Just Mom, thinking of the great kids at the rink. I'm proud that mine is one of them. Next stop... July!



Tomorrow we return to your regularly scheduled snark.

If Train leaves the Zamboni door at 25 mph...

God forbid any of the Pros get on the Lighting channel on headset. When "Cue Train Wreck" is fast followed by "Choo Choo!!" they might get a reassurance of how awful things are.

Last night went okay at first. I arrived early, bearing glitter and a worklight for the booth, since they seemed to be operating with a stupid flashlight which is dumb. I chatted with the LD/ME, who revealed to me some rather ugly secrets about how the lighting almost doesn't happen at all for this place. Who doesn't return 12 phone calls about critical matters like patterns and color? Hm.

At any rate, I took another spot position to avoid Big Bertha. Dad and the In Laws arrived, Dad reporting that there was no one supervising the Boys Dressing Room and that he would tie Stitch's skates at Intermission. Okay, dumb but not unusual.

Show starts, we're doing okay. Spot 3 goes out and there's a moment of panic, but the guy just tripped over the power cord and unplugged it. No sweat. Since I'm so used to being on #3, I miss a cue for #4 where I now am, but then the LD flubs a call and so I have to do two skaters back to back. As I said over headset, "Holla!" Spot #4 is incredibly dim, I can't even see where I am when I cross the ice, so I'm coming in early tonight and cleaning the lenses. Might help, couldn't hurt. The LD says that they QC their gear better, "I promise..."
"Hey, this thing's older than both of us combined, it's okay." If cleaning doesn't work, I'll just grab the family Maglite and use that.

It's all looking good and then Act II starts. For some reason, Lidwina left the rink at Act II. Skaters are coming out of odd places, kids are falling more than usual, there's more drama in the booth (again, which I can hear some of) and everything feels off. You can tell when a show is off, you can feel it.

The Boys go on and immediately one of them takes a hard dive. He's hurt, holding his face and crying. Mysteria is screaming in the booth, it's her kid. A Coach comes to save him, taking him off the ice, and Stitch and Other Boy are left in a daze.
"Go, Stitch," I will him to move. "Pick it up. Go. It doesn't matter. Just go. No one knows the program anyway, just go."
Stitch takes the football off the ice and moves. The other boy follows. They pick up the program, and I am so proud. He's not happy, but he and the other boy keep going. Stitch hams for the crowd and they cheer. The Boys finish, and their applause was the loudest of any group number.
I know Stitch isn't happy, but I know Dad is and I am. He did great.

Then the Diesel came out of the Far End and the Steam barreled out the Zam door for curtain call. The spots preset for the groups as they come out of the doors, and suddenly no one is where they were last night. Kids are coming from other doors, opposite doors, trap doors, the ceiling, and possibly someone's posterior and the LD almost threw off his headset in confusion. "You know what, just light who you can," he finally said.

Calls were missed, and one of the was The Boys. They were standing by the door, alone, no pro or coach in sight, and their names were called. Okay, these are 6 and 7 year old boys, you need to be speaking directly at them to have their attention. They will not hear someone say, "Pre-Alpha through Pre-Freestyle Boys" over a loudspeaker, to say nothing of knowing that this applies to them. But that got said, and the boys milled around. I threw the spot on them and motioned for Stitch to "MOVE!"
They moved. I was mad but I put that aside for the moment. If anyone got mad for me turning the spot on them at the wrong moment, I could counter with "Where the hell was the coach?"

The show ended. One down. I got off headset and went to the dressing room. Dad was taking Stitch's skates off and talking about the incident. "You did just what you were supposed to do," he was saying.
Stitch was frowning.
"Did you hear that applause?" I was looking on the bright side. "They loved you!"
"Yeah," Stitch had to agree at that.
"Hey," I put his bunny soakers on his skates. "Shit happens. Welcome to theatre. You did perfectly. You covered the accident and the show went on." I didn't realize that the Fallen Kid and his Dad were right next to me as it became clear that I swear in front of my kid, not until it was too late. Oh well. Truth, people. Truth.

We go out for Ice Cream, but Stitch is exhausted. His mood picks up, and he's joking with me as we're pulling into the parking lot at home. I have one more night on spot and then I can watch. Maybe by then the boys will get a solid number in. If not, July is coming. Mother in Law and I are going to the fabric store today to look at trims and she's going to help me start on the jacket today.

At least at a comp, there's only one train.

On the Costumes

If your child is in the Alphabet levels, or a Low Freestyle Skater at our rink, your kid is damned to a Group Number. I say "damned" because it seems that the Group Numbers are pretty low on the totem pole of priorities for Show Management.

A Group Number will involve the children skating in a circle, breaking apart to do a spin or swizzle (pick your level), skating in a circle, crossing the ice in some direction, and skating in a circle. The choreography is not intense, and is usually tailored to the lowest skilled skater of the group.

In a Group Number, you also get the PreFab costumes. These are taken right out of a dancewear catalog. They are cheap, flimsy, and the definition of Flash and Trash, a term which I use lovingly. They are not much better quality than a Target Halloween costume.

For what they are, they are fine. They're made for that one year end recital, on a normal stage in a normal dressing room with normal kids. But no tap dancer ever went sailing into a boobytrap blades that Indiana Jones would be intimidated by while on a gritty, wet surface, then went to go play hockey with dodgeballs in the gym/dressing room for two hours, to say nothing of doing this for four nights in a row.

During Winter Show, I was doing prefab costume repair by Friday. Hems were tearing loose, maribou was coming off, buttons were gone, sleeve caps were shredded, and loose sequins everywhere. By Sunday's end of the run, most of the Boy's costumes were completely trashed. "You get to keep the costume" is not a selling point for being in the show. Again, these costumes were simply not built for this kind of abuse.

Apparently a solution that the Costume Room suggested was that the kids could not wear the costumes except for when they were on the ice. Well, this is okay on the surface, but where, exactly, do you propose 100 or so little girls change clothes easily and quickly without their parents? Twice? Not gonna happen.

So, I don't know what the solution to this problem could be. Some girls will probably shred their outfits and suffer the consequences of playing with those damn dodgeballs that someone keeps thinking is a great idea to have in the dressing room. Meh. My thought is to have them wear long coats or bathrobes or something while they wait. Possibly hot, but protect the outfit. And get rid of the dodgeballs.



I don't know about you, but this outfit just screams "I LOVE DODGEBALL!!"

Dress Rehearsal - or - Yes, The Director is Critiquing You

I zoomed out of work, already 45 mins late for my call. Nothing I could do to get out of work earlier. (Sorry.) I booked it home, changed clothes, grabbed Stitch and zoomed out to the Rink. I made it just in time to catch my Gold Trenchcoat looking pretty damn awesome on the ice. I got Stitch to the dressing room, got him in skates, and went up into the rafters to learn that someone was waiting for me to relieve them on Spot #3. Okay, done. (Side Note: They were still one operator short, so Dad had been drafted earlier in the day. There was much eye rolling from him and giggles from me.)

Dad's on Spot 1, I'm on 3, and this is cool because these spots often work in tandem on soloists. So we're doing as well as we can, but I can't find the iris on my spot and the chopper is loose yet sticky at the same time, plus it's way too high for me but it can't be lowered anymore. So, I'm doing weird yoga poses to hit Ice Left, plus randomly opening the damn thing when the chopper decides to work. (Dear Altman Family: The Altspot is the worst spotlight design ever conceived. WHY did you put the focus operation as a damn slide pole thing off the back that is stupidly close to the chopper, which is some stupid twisty thing that makes me want to kill people. Did you use the damn thing before you put it out to market? Frack sake!) I'm hot, my hair is down so I'm way hot, and I know there's a hairclip in my purse and a Diet Coke not far off, taunting me with their nearness.

Again, the spot operators are being tasked with lighting "everyone," which I now know to be absolutely true because the "LD" or whatever has left the Com on so I can hear quite a bit of the chatter coming from Mysteria in the booth. Holy crow. Ladies, she sees you. She sees you and she is weary of your screwing around. Frankly, all of the crew is. It is not cute. Do your program and get off the ice. Be cute at the cast party, not now.

Again, the spot ops are being given conflicting and seemingly random instruction. Ideally, the spots should cross the ice in order to get the widest beam angle and cover the most ice. But we're being told otherwise, a lot. I was frankly ignoring stupid instruction and going Ice Right a lot to cover group numbers, and the LD stopped correcting me. Dad was doing likewise. While I couldn't communicate directly with him, I could see it. Mysteria is saying something, but whatever.

Okay, I'm hot. Spots 2 and 4 are lighting someone and I make a grab for the hairclip. I've got a minute. I toss off the headset and throw up my hair, making it in time to catch the next girl. I'm following her and there's a Mom sitting nearby.
"Pssst! Pssst!!" I get her attention.
She looks up at me.
"Can you open that for me," I point to the Diet Coke with my toe. I've taken my shoes off, I'm so hot. Those pars are clearly 1000watts, nothing else explains this heat.
She obliges me and I still can't drink it because the mic is in the way. Damn.

We're redoing group numbers at a stupid rate. What the hell. I can hear Mysteria. "Well, it's okay but there's no finish, I don't get it." Did you not see this at the prelim run-through?? There's talk about the sequins, lack of sequins.... whatever. Why are all the girls in this number dressed differently? Why is Batman's cape not secured to his arms? When he does a jump it's in his face. No Capes!!




Stitch's number goes on. We're a boy short. Seriously? All the boys are thrown for a loop with the absence of a critical one, and so Stitch is quietly giving orders. They do their best, but one takes a hard fall and it's off. Stitch is not happy, I can tell from up here. I prepare to face a grumbly Stitch. 

For some reason the boys linger in the house, and so I wave for Stitch to join me up in the rafters. He's grumpy. Understandable. (The boys were also somehow skipped when it came to the "finale," so they weren't announced at all and were brought out as it was ending. Why don't boys skate? I can tell you why.)

Finally we seem to be done. I drop my headset and suddenly some other girl is on the ice, posing. What the frack. Headset talks: "Uh, she missed her solo in Act 1 so we're doing it now." Yes, this makes sense. We do her number, and if I don't pee soon, there's gonna be hell to pay. I start down and here comes Dad.

"Why didn't you iris down?"
"Because I can't find the damn iris! This thing is dumb as hell!"
Dad comes over, and the LD comes over. I introduce myself and tell them to fix the damn light. They set to work, determining that there is an iris, but a set screw is loose somewhere and is impeding the movement. Whatever. Design is dumb. Full stop.

I get Stitch to the dressing room, now abandoned, and he changes clothes. Things wind down. I talk with Rink Pal, Dad is shaking his head, Stitch has five bucks that is burning a hole in his pocket. He buys chips and we set off into a eerie misty night. Dad says the LD knows that better followspots are sitting in the shop, but the Rink did not want to pay for them. Go figure.

I came home, took in Stitch's pants and added elastic at the feet. With the loose bottoms they look like Marcel Marceau pants. Silly. Mother in Law brought me booze, hooray!

Tomorrow is the real deal, so should be fun. With any luck, all four boys will be present, but I'm not placing money on it.

Dear Ice Show Coaches

I totally respect what you do. I am in no way dissing or trashing your choreography when I say this, it's a simple fact of the space you're in:

Please do not send your skaters too far down past the Big Red Dots on the ice. Doing so makes it hard for the Followspots to hit them. The hard angle makes the Spots hit the audience instead, and few things are more annoying to a patron than being blasted with a spotlight.

Just be aware of how far downstage, er, down-ice your skaters are. The Followspots are the only specials the Ice Show has, so if the Spots can't get those skaters, they may not be lit much at all. The shorter the child, the bigger the problem. If the Tots wander too close to the Down-Ice boards, the Spots may just clip the tops of their heads. All those kids deserve to be lit, they work hard. Again, it's not a complaint or a "DO IT MY WAY" demand, just a Fact of the Space. From what I've seen, everything looks super cool and awesome and fun and great (considering the material), but just be aware of those two Big Red Dots.

LOVE YOU ALL!!

- Skate Mom

A Rink-Free Summer? Hardly!

With the prospect of Stitch away for six weeks, I was thinking that we'd get a hiatus from the Rink and its dramatics. I thought I'd get some cleaning done, relax a little, but mostly find something to do with myself.

Today was Game Day for Stitch's group class. We arrived, I put him in skates, and set him out. Then I took a walk to the Costume Room. The nice lady there greeted me, I introduced myself and said I was volunteering for the weekend.

"Can you sew?" she asked.
"I can work my way around a machine, yes," I didn't go into detail about the pocket welt mishap the previous evening.
"Any costuming experience?"
"In college and high school, yes, but I mostly do lighting. I was a Stage Manager, so I learned a bit of everything."

She then went into graphic detail about the work for the Winter Ice Show that needed to be done over the summer, and if I could help, it would be a godsend. I said sure, providing I didn't get much commission work which I wasn't anticipating. Needed something to do with myself, huh?

"Oh, I could never sell costumes for these people," she rolled her eyes. "I can't stand these moms."
I think my eyeballs fell out of my head, as she told me a gory tale of a Mom who was endlessly altering her son's outfit, making it worse and worse and worse, with the Mom becoming steadily more passive aggressive to the point of physically barring the Costume Lady from leaving until Mom listened to another round of alteration ideas.
"Wow, that's... amazing...." was my only reply.
"Oh, yeah. They can get awful. Some woman came in with this tacky fluorescent orange number for her soloist. Wouldn't listen to a word we said about colors looking different under spots, then got mad when it wasn't approved to be in the show."
"Lighting is an important part of it. What looks good as competition wear behaves differently under stage lighting." (Remember? Crap Blue Floodlights versus Direct Full Spectrum? Yup.)
"Oh! You get it! We have to trade information!"

I had to go to check in with Stitch, who was doing stupid relay games as usual. He was fine, playing with the other boys, who had all been grouped together for the relays. They came off the ice and I headed back in to give Costume Lady my numbers.

The Boy's costumes do not have helmets, praise Lidwina, but they are lacking in sparkle. Oh well, Pink Panther will be overdone because it's his first freestyle number. He will need an undershirt, because the top for their outfits is an athletic fabric, thin and holey. No problem.

The day isn't over yet. We have a run through to do, a Patch Test and I need to get to the Fabric Store. Busy, busy weekend.

Wednesday Night Lights, Final Weeks

Last night I rushed home to get Stitch from lessons. (For all my Rink Friends: No, my Babysitter is not a Domestic Violence victim. Her husband is serving overseas, but her friend's car has no airbags and they had an accident. She's dinged up, but fine.)

I ran smack into Ms V, Other Mom and Coach talking at the Ice Door. I really had no interest in talking with the other moms, but Coach thanked me for running copies of the Practice Sheets for her other students. I said no problem and just let me know when it needs to be altered. I then relieved The Babysitter, offered her some parting Tylenol and sent her on her way. I stepped out into the lobby to talk with Rink Pal about what he wants to wear for Spring Show and everything went downhill from there.

Stitch came out for a quick hug and pants fixing (I hate that elastic for feet, never using it again) and back out he went. Rink Pal and I looked at drawings and made some decisions, and then we started talking. And talking. And talking. My beads languished in my bag, unfinished thread and all. (I'd say it's 65% done right now.) But we talked, slowly moving closer to the glass as I tried to see what was going on with the kids. I explained about by ban from watching, Rink Pal laughed at me and I stood on the benches to get a better view. Ballet jumps. Edges. Spins. The usual.

Eventually I creeped over and peered over the edge, while Ms V said that she hopes Gordon is "never like that, never wants me to watch him or hug him." Lady, your day is coming. Stitch caught me watching but did not give the Dismissal Hand Signal. I still didn't get to see much, as pretty soon all of us Parents were doing Parental Pantomime, mimicking and trying to figure the kid's moves.

If you've never caught a Parental Pantomime Act, you're missing out. All of us, with the exception of Other Girl's Mom, were doing spirals, hops, ballet moves, you name it. If we'd just had some French Mime outfits we could have sold tickets.

As a Parent, I tend to not realize I'm being ridiculous until it's too late. I'll start leaning from left to right, deeply, while Stitch is doing edges, like I'm using The Force to improve the element. Silly, isn't it? And yet you can't help yourself.

Stitch came off the ice, I made a quick appointment to talk to Coach about July, and we were done. Stitch and Gordon loitered at the Vending Machines, but unfortunately Stitch had spent just about all his allowance and a small Field Trip Bonus at the Nature Museum Trip the day prior. (Hard lessons about money. Sorry, kiddo!)

We came home and turned on Internets World Championships, Men's Short. We did our usual jabs at the costuming and such, but it hit me that Stitch is doing some of the same things these guys do. Stumbly first time tries, but it's the same concepts. Those Half Flips have the same basic concept as a Triple Flip, right? Just a few more times around?

Cool.

Rink Pal told me that he felt sorry for me, volunteering for costume room duty the weekend before Ice Show. "Why?" I asked.
"Because the costumes never arrive on time!"
"Then it seems I picked one of the better gigs then, right? Nothing to do if the costumes aren't here."

See, this is how I see the breakdown of Figure Skating.

You can't negate that 25% Show Business. The Costumes will never be on time.

What do volunteers do?

I got yet another request for help with the spring show, this time trying to outline just what you will be doing as a volunteer. I haven't followed her link yet, I probably should as I have every intention of being there. It just boggles me that people will be involved in the skating program to some degree and yet not give their time to help out with the shows. That's supposed to be a big bonus, right? Being in the show?

In any organization like this, parent volunteers end up being a critical players. Shunned, ignored, largely muted and thankless players, but players nonetheless. If you decide to volunteer, (which you should) do not expect a plaque or party afterwards. Just take comfort and pride in the fact you did your good deed for the year and smile. Just show up, offer to help, and go in the direction you're pointed.

What you will NOT do is; Be in Charge to any Degree. Sorry, someone else has that role, for better or for worse, and even if you vehemently disagree, you just have to smile and grit your teeth. Choreograph anything. Sorry. As a parent you are inherently biased to your own, so you cannot provide an objective and fair eye that will give every child a moment. (Read my endless whining about Winter Show for an example.)  You will not decide on costumes, music, lighting, effects, blocking, rehearsal times, who is coaching your kid, and how your kid performs. Any and all interference from you will be sniffed out and negated. (We had an angel at one point who told us her mom had given her orders to upstage Gabriel. Considering this kid was twice the size of the other angels, we nixed that and warned off mom. For 42nd Street another kid was told by mom to "just go to the center" and ignore the blocking. Faced with the threat of being kicked from the show, kid wisely ignored mom.) Just go with the flow, smile, help out and have some wine when it's done. It's okay. (Repeat this endlessly.)

During Winter Show, I noticed that there were two places where volunteers were missing yet needed the most. One big spot was ID Checker. The other was in the Dressing Rooms. I found myself wanting a stunt double just to help out in there, even though the sight of a dodgeball now puts my eye in a twitch. Beyond the high profile costuming job, the up-top-and-out-of-the-way perch of spotlight, the smiling ticket taker and usher, the "get it done early" gig of painting the sets, there is the rock bottom, down and dirty work of Dressing Room Monitor and ID Checker at the entries to the Dressing Rooms.

Folks, these jobs are critical. Beyond critical. They are vital to the safety and well-being of the reason the show is happening at all; the performers. The kids.

When I was in the dressing room, there were two kinds of parents. The first kind were the ones who loitered in the rooms for no other visible reason than to ensure that their own children were safe from the common rabble. Nutso (remember her?) was chronic at this. When she arrived, she expected her children's costumes laid out and ready, their marked spaces clean. During the show she sat with her own kids and only a few times spoke to other children, usually to warn them away from her own, lest her children mess up their costumes or makeup. At the end of the evening, she departed in a flurry of Coke cans and candy wrappers, leaving her kid's costumes in a pile. Another set of parents brought pizza for their own crew, so the other kids circled them like a pack of wolves at bay. This was just cruel, and of course they left pizza mess in their wake. Of course, the alternative to Nutso and other HawkMoms was the Parental Disappearing Act, where parents would arrive, dump their kids with a bag of snacks and/or stuff and leave the monitor with a kid who has no idea how to tie a shoe, much less a skate.

Dressing Room Monitors need to be aware of just how important they are. They need to be called before the performers, handed a sewing kit, basic first aid pack, pack of tissues, an intimidating ID badge and a flask of Jameson. Dressing Room monitors will be putting little uncoordinated kids in sometimes difficult costumes, often with the "help" of mom, grandma, Coach and possibly a sibling. The child may or may not be crying. They will be resewing buttons, maribou and sequins. They will be applying and tying skates and making sure blade guards are labeled and kept up with. When the blade guards get lost, they will be drying tears and consoling parents about the irreplaceable loss. (Sarcasm.) They will keep kids occupied, safe and contained while the kids wait to go on. (I brought a bunch of games.) They will be listening for the call of Coaches, lining up the kids, and wishing kids well as they go to perform. When the kids come back, they will be checking costumes and kids for damage and reapplying blade guards. At the end of the evening, they will help kids and parents put away costumes; this means back in the dress bag and re-hung or laid over the assigned chair. (Stress to children the importance of neatness and order.) Pick up trash and toys, reorganize the room for the next sucker the following night, and go home to a drink. This is important work, no joke. A bad dressing room experience can sour a family forever on a show. 

The other critical role that I saw ignored was ID Checker at Dressing Room doors. I was never asked for my ID badge. Never. This kind of frightened me, because if I was getting through to where the kids were being stashed, who else was? Don't assume that just because it's a family rink and we all tend to know each other, that everything is safe. While I was running spot I saw two folks who were "sketchy" in my book; Alone, never seen them before, kinda funny looking and didn't speak to anyone. Had they been taking pictures, I would have politely asked which kids were theirs, ya know? If I could breeze by the ID Checker talking on her cell phone, could they? Yes, I know Gramma, Grandpa, Auntie June, Uncle Ernie, Brother James and Sister Jane all want to go see Muffy in the dressing room to bring her flowers. But Muffy is sharing a dressing area with dozens of other little girls who will collectively freak out if they are seen in their panties, and we don't want that. Have all the relations wait in the lobby so Muffy can come to them for flowers. It just works better that way. I don't care if Grampa is loudly threatening to call his lawyer, for the sake of the other children, don't let him pass! (Besides. it's a bit of a power trip!)

What if Muffy tries to leave the Dressing Area on her own, without an adult? Ah, then it's you, Trusty ID Checker to turn her right around and send her back. I don't care how much she whines that she has a dollar for a candy bar or hates the taste of the water fountain in that other hallway, send her froufy little butt back in there! When mom comes looking frantically for Muffy with an Angry Dad and Frazzled Coach, you can easily point to her dressing area and rest easy. Another child, safe and sound for another performance.

With the number of kids in that show, I would imagine that every parent could volunteer only once and there would be an overflow of free labor. But the emails are telling me otherwise. I was a Scout, so volunteering has been beaten into my brain pretty much from day one. I can't sit next to a candy wrapper for more than five minutes before I get the urge to throw it away. Yes, it's dirty and gross. Someone else left it there, and I'm sure he's a jerk. No one may notice at all and I may not get a thank you, but I left the rink that much better than how I found it and that's a good day.

Sign up. At the very least, you'll come away with a hella good story. Just ask me about the time that kid spit on the floor.

Odd Place for Skating Supplies

Stitch had privates this morning, same as always, but again he looked off his game. A bit unsteady, unsure. I was talking with another mom, but glancing in on them every so often. Two weekends in a row, this was strange.

He came off the ice and ran to watch the vending machine being refilled. I wound up my conversation and went to fetch him. As he walked back with me, his feet made an uncharacteristic *thump*click*thump*click*thump* pattern. Thump, click? What's that click? "Stitch, sit down. Let me see that skate."

I wiggled the blade, and the blade wiggled back. The heel plate was loose. "That explains it. Has your skate felt funny?"
"Sort of."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
He shrugged.

I borrowed a screwdriver from the maintenance fellow, but half the skating parents dove into their bags for their own screwdrivers for me to use. "I thought I heard his blade was loose," commented one.
"So you guys just have one?" I asked, referring to a screwdriver.
"Oh yeah, blades come loose all the time," said one mom.
"I guess I need a screwdriver."
"You will," a dad nodded.

I screwed the heel plate down tight, and tightened the rest of the screws which were all loose by a half turn or more. Stitch and I hung out, I made him do writing and spelling, "speed" drilled him on singles addition, and then it was time for group lessons. I missed Rink Across Town.

With the blade fixed, Stitch was back on his game. Everything looked better, but it was very nice to see him smile again. His jumping was much more confident, and spinning lasting longer. He came off the ice, happy.
"So, does it skate better now?"
"Oh yes."
"I can't believe that came loose. How does that happen?"
"Maybe it's because I'm doing real stuff now."
"Whatever."

Mystery solved, I packed him up and we headed down the road for lunch and our very own screwdriver. Stitch smelled the flowers at the hardware store, and I stayed away because of my Brown Thumb. We priced out concrete and gravel for my upcoming summer project, with Stitch getting excited about the prospect of using a trowel. And of course, I bought a small screwdriver. Who knew? The waitresses at the lunch counter "accidentally" made him the adult sized shake, but I have a feeling it was because of the cute way he asked for extra pickles on his sandwich.

Then we were back to Home Rink for (dun dun, duhhhn) Ice Show Rehearsal. Yes, Stitch and one other lone boy circled the big rink for what seemed like ages as I waited to hear and see just what silliness they were going to put the boys through. At first I thought it might a construction worker thing, but then coaches played the theme song to a local football team. A not-so-great local football team. Okay, so we have two boys, one of whom does not play team sports at all, both on skates, tossing a ball around and pretending to do a Football drill. Yes, this is awesome, yet I worry about the boys being the brunt of a joke. And how ironic, my reading of boys and sports and masculinity and ice skating, to be doing this of all things. Fortunately the program is loose enough so that boys can do what they do, and Stitch gets to do a lunge and a Waltz Jump for it. This is fine, and I can work on throwing and catching on the playground. Stitch says he likes it, and he's now humming that interminable song endlessly while he "cleans" his room.

We're back again tonight, to play with Stitch's friends who need the practice for crossovers and backwards stroking. I'm trying to think of some games to get them to play, maybe I can trick them into practicing for a change. If anyone has any ideas, I'm all ears.