Motivation Monday

I love Power 3's. Love love love them. I loved them before I could do them, because there was just something cool about them. So, I made an effort to teach myself how to do them, and it was pretty terrible for the first few months. I'd fling myself into the turn, because that was the only way I knew how to do it, then pull into a backwards crossover, hitch up on my toepick in a straight line instead of an arc, and grind myself to a halt before widestepping into a fresh flat to wing into another turn. Anyone on the rink with me would know I was trying Power 3's by the rythmic **Scraaaaaatch**Clunk**scraaaatch**clunk** I made as I traveled.

But I didn't give up on them. Eventually I figured out that back edge, and how to hold and turn closer to the center of the lobe. I still scratch a bit, the left side still wings too fast, and my step into the new lobe is wider than it should be, but my Power 3's are one of the things I'm most proud of. I do them alternating now, along with alternating power mohawks, as a part of my warmup. I have a long ways to go on them, but they are one of the elements that shows just how far I've come.

My current "That is so cool but I can't do it" Skill is Backwards Cross Strokes. I'm sure that eventually I will do backwards cross strokes with proficiency, and remembering just how hard those Power 3's were makes the process a little easier. And enjoying the challenging Process is what makes this fun.

 

Starting to pass the torch

For all this time, I've dictated the practice schedules, which have always been, "skate whenever he gets a good chance."  But lately that's led to some resistance on Stitch's part. He simply doesn't see the value in skating so often. There's been some quabbling over the matter of How Often to Practice, and I was debating how to handle this.

MsV approached me over the whole Parenting Thing. "I don't know what to do, he fights us over every little thing! But I'm reading this book, 'Parenting without power struggles,' and I'm hoping that will do something. Its very highly recommended, you should read it!"

Power struggle? Is that what this is? The light came on.

Kids start to assert some demand for power over their little lives from age two. I've always ascribed to the method of allowing limited choices where appropriate (what clothes to wear, what to eat, what activities to do.) But for some reason the skating had slipped from "limited choice" to "non-negotiable," on the same plane as homework.

Last night over dinner, Stitch and I had a chat.

"Okay, so you've got this new program to work on and a competition in January."
Stitch nods.
"How often do you think you need to practice?"
He thinks. "Twice a week."
That's once more than what I thought his answer would be, so I'm encouraged. "Great. Your options are Friday night Public, Saturday Night Public, Sunday Afternoon Public, or Sunday Night Practice Ice."
"I don't like Public Ice. It's too crowded and distracting."
I almost fell out of my chair, one for the honesty and two for the cost. "Thank you for explaining that to me. Do you prefer the Tuesday morning ice over the Wednesday night?"
He sighs as though he hates to admit it. "Yes. It's much less crowded."
"Good. So, let's make a plan. I'll take you to practice on Friday nights and Sunday afternoons or Sunday night whichever you prefer. As we get closer to winter, the Sunday afternoon public will fill up, so we may call it quits and do Sunday nights. Okay?" Plus on Sunday nights he can get his music played.
Stitch agrees that this is a good plan. A good plan that he had a big hand in setting.

I then laid out his options for the evening; TV time, video games or a board game. He opted for video games, and I gladly spent the next hour being his Legend of Zelda Coach. "Go in there, target the spider and hit it! Ignore the heart beeping, you'll come back, hit it!"

The Curse of The Mummy's Back Spin

Stitch has a really good spin. It's one of his strongest elements, which is good in that it is so good, but bad in that he often relies on that to save him in competition. (And it frequently works. Judges, please look at everything, not just one thing.)

It's also turning out to be bad in that he's so strong in his forward spin, that his Back Spin seems cursed. I watched them work on it for a solid ten agonizing minutes of complete trainwreck before moving on to something else. He and Coach had some kind of chat after all that was done, leaving me wondering what all that was about.

It was a good lesson overall, and a good practice. I was giving directions on the sidelines, Stitch kicking the boards when I took too long. At the end I gave him the eighty cents I could scrounge from my pocket. He came back with a Push Pop, which I knew cost more. "I didn't give you that much."
"The guy behind the counter took a dime from the tip jar to pay for it," Stitch explained.
I immediately got a dollar from my wallet. "Go put that in the tip jar!"
"WHAT?" Stitch's sense of justice is outraged. He wanted the dollar.
"When you work for tips, you'll understand. Now GO!"

I was getting ready to leave Coach a note, thinking she'd gone already, when out of the office she came. We settled business, and I said Stitch was on for Friday. This made her happy. "The back spin," she lamented. "He needs so much work with it."
"We'll get there. In the meantime, he'll be here Friday, but he's yours. The babysitter will be dropping him off and leaving him."

Coach was fine with this, and in fact, this is something she's offered to do for awhile.

"I'll be here as soon as I can be," I continued. "But hopefully this will help that spin a bit."

She agreed and we went our separate ways. I had some other people to speak to about Friday, but I was confident things would be just fine. With a little "looking out for", Stitch would be fine on his own at the rink.

We picked up some frozen Chinese food on the way home, as both of us were famished, and as we walked by the bakery case I noted the fancy cakes and pies.
"Stitch, let's make a deal."
"What?"
"When you get that Back Spin, I'll buy you whatever cake you want out of that case, and I'll let you eat it whole with a fork."

Stitch was intrigued by this notion, gravitating towards some strawberry lemon affair. We pinky swore on it, and went home.

"What were you and Coach talking about out there?" I aske casually. I didn't really care, I was just curious.
"Oh, just Halloween. What we were going to be."
"Did you tell her about the Mummy Outfit?"
"Yeah, and I was praying the entire time she didn't say to just wrap me in toilet paper. She didn't."

One of the points in the USFSA book on how to be a skating parent is that one about "Sharing your child." I don't know why, but Coach asking about Halloween seemed like some kind of encroachment on my turf, and I'm not sure how I feel about that. I know very well that Stitch skates a lot differently for Coach than he does for me, and I know he values her opinions, takes her more seriously, and the two of them have a vibe going on. Even as he's disciplining the cat in her accent, he respects her in a way he doesn't with me. I don't think "Sharing" is the right term. I don't know what is.

Yes, the Mummy outfit is complete. I blew through it in a day and it was an absolute blast to create. Using thin gauzy scraps from the remnants table, I basted on layer after layer of wrappings on the arms, legs and trunk. I did Greek Key decorative stitching around the arms, and while I know Greek is not Egyptian, it's Halloween and Dark, and if anyone challenges it I'm walking away.

Mommytime, I hear what you're saying about the bigger neck and armholes, but I think the size I cut is going to be fine, given that the fabric doesn't stretch. When I basted on the strips, I negated the stretch of the base fabric, so it mimicked a nonstretch fabric pretty well. Actually, the arms may need to be cut a hair larger, as The Mummy's arms are a bit snug. We're going to do a lot of fitting this weekend, just to be absolutely sure before I cut anything. Worse, I may need to learn how to do a buttoned cuff sleeve.

Stitch changed his mind on the music, but the design I have in mind will still work. I set my countdown clock today.

We're eighty days out. Plenty of time.

On an unrelated note, upon trying on his costume for the first time, he immediately began clinging to Dad, moaning and growling. Dad dragged him around, Stitch firmly affixed to his leg, and said, "Mummies don't hang on people!"
"The ones in Legend of Zelda do!" Stitch says defiantly.
It's true. Those Mummies in the Shadow Temple are freakin' terrifying.

The More Things Change...

Last night, first night back at lessons. I skipped work a bit early, crashed through the apartment to grab the Zuca and flew to the nearby park where Stitch was playing with a friend and a neighbor. My addled neighbor was confused when I said, "I don't have time, I'll get the lunch bag later. I just need Stitch."
"But there's other stuff..."
"Later."

Stitch rolled his eyes and got in the car. He was in his skinny jeans. I hate those skinny jeans. Who makes skinny jeans for small boys? Evil people, that's who.
"Stitch, you can't wear those for skating."
"Why?"
"Because you can't move in them. It doesn't work." But it was also my fault because I hadn't packed a pair of skating pants in the Zuca. Well, it's our first day back, I figured we were allowed some leeway.

Stitch was ambivalent about lessons. Crabby, actually. In a perfect world, I would have given him a Public Ice session to play before having a lesson right off. The four day a week skating camp from June had nearly burned him out, and I had learned my lesson. There's only so much he can take. So, I assured him the lesson was just a half hour out of an hourlong practice ice and sent him on his way.

Coach arrived and greeted us, welcomed us back, and I took my place in the stands. I directed Stitch when he appeared aimless, and I could tell he was all out of sorts. His blades had some serious rust issues since the folks who had taken him skating didn't know to take the soakers off once home from the rink, and he just looked unsteady in general. Six weeks off the ice will do that. I know I'm not looking forward to my first session back. He was scared to do his bunny hops, actually, but he didn't fall.

There was practically no one at this ice. The monitor booth was empty. I had left the coupon on the CD player with the cryptic notebook (not before poking around through it first) and just went back down to direct Stitch. Coach came over and handed me a CD. "Can you play this? No one is up there," she seemed irritated.

The "eject" button was the most difficult part of that damn CD player. But I got it and played what seemed to be a Long Program for one of Coach's high level girls. Not bad. But the Ice Monger (inside joke) must have heard the music over the PA and suddenly appeared in the booth doorway. (Again, remember, the booth is SACRED TERRITORY.)
"What is going on?" she asked.
"Coach needed some music played."
"She needs to learn to wait."
"Uh huh."
"I mean, she can't just do that. She needs to learn to wait for me."
I know a meaningless territorial eyerolling argument when I hear one, so I just stood up. "Well, the CD is in there. So help yourself."
The Ice Monger settled her butt in the chair. "I'm not mad at you, of course," she kept on.
"Of course not, there's no reason to be."
"But she can't just do that, and she always does this. I'm mad at her."

Personally, I would love to see Coach eat this woman for breakfast, so if she decided to ever take it to Coach I would need to be sure my camera was charged. Ice time is valuable, Regionals is in October, and Coach doesn't have time to wait for this person to wind up her conversation about Montessori Preschools in the Lobby. Coach needs her kid's music played. Full stop. I walked away.

Coach finished up with the first girl and turned to Stitch. Now, bear in mind, the last time I saw a lesson was just before the July Open, which was dedicated to the competition. I didn't know what they were working on during those four weeks in June, but I had some notion that Coach might try to push Stitch through the FS2 paces just to keep him in step with the other kids in her stable.

I was right.

I saw a beginner Salchow and a sloppy run of a full rotation Flip. I only know these jumps because I know the order they're learned in, but he was doing them. Despite his unsteadiness in the first half hour, he was doing pretty well now. Not high jumps, barely getting off the ice actually, but he was trying. When he got frustrated, which was often, he jammed his hands in his pockets. That was bothering me more than anything. The pockets would have to go. And the skinny jeans were really screwing up his spiral, as I expected.

It seemed that all the skills he learned in early Summer would be quickly salvaged with a little ice time and some coaxing.

Coach came off the ice. She told me to register him for Freestyle 3, and that he could do everything in Freestyle 2. I'll have to verify that, and my push for actual testing begins anew. There are no competitions that I know of on the immediate horizon, so it may serve us well to not bother with programs and work on the jumps. Height, to be specific. Jumps, basics, getting his confidence on the ice back. And fight for a FS2 test, with the claim that he can't go through another round of three tests at once.

Coach tried to schedule another lesson, and I'll have to see. I'm putting in extra hours at the Old Theatre, and when I mentioned that, she gave me a sidelong look like I was crazy. Am I? Possibly. Working 8am to 10pm does, on the surface, sound nuts. (But when you walk into a theatre and smell that smell and love that space, it's not really work. It's stuff you enjoy doing that you happen to get paid for.) Coach will have to adapt even further to a Theatre Family. As of now, Wednesday Evenings and Saturday Mornings are sacred to skating for Fall, but I can promise nothing more. (Stitch may wind up doing homework in a 100 year old theatre lobby this year, and he's excited by this because I told him of the fact that it's haunted.)

She wanted him at a lesson at 8:15 with a few of her girls this morning, and at a clinic this afternoon if possible, but again, I remember Stitch being burned out nearly completely by daily lessons. I let that go. One Group Lesson and One Private Lesson per week, with a few hours practice in between, is all Stitch can do right now. It's okay.

Out in the lobby, Other Kid was right in my face. I didn't miss this one whit. "What level is Stitch going to be in?"
"Uh, Freestyle 3."
Stitch was rolling his eyes, anxious to get away. I pulled his skates off of him, threw him his shoes and told him to check the book racks for anything he liked.
Other Kid was undeterred. "What do you learn in freestyle 3?"
"I don't know." I knew.
Other Kid turned to his Coach. "Coach? What do you learn in Freestyle three? A sit spin?"
At that point my brain borked and I made a hasty exit. I bid goodbye to the office folk, again saying we'd missed them, and Stitch rode his Zuca out.

"I'm going to kill you," I shook my head.
Stitch just laughed.

But once home, I sewed the pockets of his skating jacket shut. He was so mad, he went to his room and shut the door.
"Stitch, I can tear this out at any time," I told him. "You can get your pockets back. But you can't have your hands in them on the ice."
He still didn't understand, but a few winning hands at poker cheered him up. (Pair of tens and pair of kings.)

Friday night is my first night back on the ice, and so while I see if my crossovers survived my sunburn I will coax Stitch to jump a bit higher, do three turns and get back into a routine. We can take those stairs together. It's three high flights to the upper balcony, so heaven knows there are plenty of stairs in the world for us.

About Practice Ice

For the first six months, I didn't even know about Practice Ice. When I learned about it, I thought it was tres cool but then learned of level divisions and felt shut out. I did Privates during Public Ice because that's all I thought I could get to. During the second six months, I was  buying coupons for those one-off days with Coach, because Coach made me familiar with what I really could get to, and the Practice Ice "open sesame" really happens with a Coach. Never having a real "set" schedule never bothered me, because as an Entertainment Family, we never really have a set schedule, either. I did have regular practice ice at Rink Across Town, and that was great.

Parents, I'm going to say a hard truth; After Beta, it's just not going to happen without regular practice. The ranks of PreStyle Skaters drop dramatically after Beta, with a Beta Class maybe at ten kids, and a Delta Class at two. Like Lucy (who spent two rounds in Gamma before quitting) and her mom (who blamed the two rounds on Lucy and the Coaches), people don't seem to get that there's two pieces of the skating pie that the Group Class Coach isn't responsible for; those are Practice and Individual Effort. Practice Ice has nothing to do with your "Competitiveness" or how much your kid is "into it," and doesn't mean you're gunning for a National Champion. Practice Ice is the simple notion that you can't learn to skate if you aren't on the ice. Do Public Ice, do Practice Ice, but Do Ice.

Now that I have that Rant out of me, I was debating which slot to buy for this session. I called Coach to ask her advice, but she only called me back when it was too late. Dad had deposited to forms which I left for him on the TV. I told her to go grab the form and pick the date she wanted. She told me that if I wanted to do ice on that other day, I didn't need to worry about registering for it, no one was on it anyway. I made a mental note for myself.

As I hung up, I realized that this was the first time she was heavily into my practice ice buying, which had been just "buy a coupon and figure it out later." She was also planning on making this our new lesson time. It had to be, Stitch was banished from Learn To Skate ice, which was why Saturday mornings fell out of the picture. That had never occurred to me. (I hated that old time anyway. Vehemently. Hated. I can say that now that it's over.)

I'm also remembering sitting in the stands, making small talk with Other Moms. It makes my skin crawl. Don't get me wrong, I like other people. I love to talk. But there's only so much talking about skating parents can do without edging into the Comparing Children territory which gets uncomfortable. Especially since Stitch will have dropped a level or two behind thanks to the Summer Hiatus. (I saw MiniFab grabbing her skate and bringing to her head level on Sunday and doing some weird Spin/jump thing. But then, MiniFab has the focus of a laser beam. I don't expect that from Gordon who has the attention span of a squirrel.) I don't know why we can't talk about something else. But, as it happens, I won't be in the stands this time. The Practice Ice session Coach wants falls smack during the Adult Class I want to take. HA!

I'm effectively gone tomorrow. I leave from work, on to my own Vacation. I'm reprinting the form and telling Dad to drop it off with a new Check. Instructions to Coach: Use if you need it, void and destroy if you don't. It's an act of trust, one of those acts I'm finding happen a lot at the rink.

If anyone has any thoughts as to any stretching or bodywork I can do while I'm gone, I'm all ears. Stitch and I can do it together on the beach. Primarily, Shoot the Duck. He needs to get his Shoot the Duck in order. It's the only directive I had from Coach over summer. Looks like I'm going to have to start listening to her.

So, I heard from Coach

She called me and left me a message about Practice Ice. She reminded me about the form deadline, and was telling me that Gordon's Mom wanted the boys to learn together again, on an afternoon that cuts too close to school. I can't swing it. There is a timeslot I can swing, but if I take classes on that same day, I'll have to plan a picnic dinner to eat in the lobby, as there is just a little more than an hour between the practice ice time and my class. This will take some creative scheming. He'll have to go to the rink right after school and be there until 8ish, first to skate and then do homework while I skate. As he's eight now, I'm going to have to start asking him to take care of himself more, grow up a little bit faster for me.

Yes, I carved out enough money in the budget for me to take a class. After trying to do backwards stroking a few times, I need some help. Hopefully I can whip my forward crossovers into shape enough to be declared Beta and get someone to make me go backwards. I'm trying to remember what all Alpha means, and if I can do it all. My Skating Parent Addled Mind only remembers the imperative of "crossovers" and forgets the nuances.

This is the first time she's spoken of Practice Ice to me, the first passive directive to buy it. Before, I just kind of winged it. Just something I noticed, since I'd seen other Coaches going over the ice schedules with their parents and I always felt like I was stabbing in the dark. I guess I was kinda jealous of Coach walking Ms V through the process while I just happened to guess correctly a hefty percentage of the time.

Coach also said she wanted him back "as soon as possible." I told her to call me at the office today so we can talk. I worry about getting too excited at this "package deal" and throwing him to the proverbial wolves. (Ten year olds have no business talking about restrictive diets, and I won't apologize for that opinion.) I had forgotten about the incredible lag time between the end of Summer Session and the beginning of Fall Session, but it's probably a good thing so Stitch can get his sea legs back and get back into the swing of a skating schedule. Also, the banner ad for Winter Show is up.

Coach says she misses him. I miss him, too. Last night after I talked to him, I had to excuse myself to go cry for a minute. This has been a hard summer. On Friday, I leave via train to meet up with The Boys, who will be already midway through our vacation state. We'll be there for about eight days, coming home on the 21st. (I'll see if the town coffee shop has WiFi so I can join Skatemom Chat Sunday night. I'm pretty positive they do.)

Fall can't come soon enough.

The Day Wherein I had to Leave

I haven't been to Practice Ice in about a week. We were supposed to go Monday, but after such a rollercoaster weekend (Surprise Party, then the cat finally died, which I'm sad about but relieved with at the same time) I needed a night off.

So we went tonight. The usual suspects were there, doing the usual things. Nothing seems to change much until it does, I guess. I saw Ms V, and went to say hello wince I hadn't seen her in weeks. She greeted me and said they were just chilling for awhile before heading home. I said we were doing Practice ice. All was fine until she mentioned Gordon's skate. "I think it's broken, I don't know what to do."
"What's wrong with it?"
"The sole part is pulling away from the boot."
Uh..... "That sounds serious. Can I see it?"
"It's in the car. I'll go get it." So she traipses out to the car and Stitch is asking if he can get on the ice and the monitor is saying no, so I'm deflecting him from getting ice cream too soon. (After practice, please.)

Ms V returns and digs out the offending skate. "See?" she pulls back gently, the heel part pulling away from the sole.
I take the skate and turn to the nearest Coach. "Coach Q? Um..." I hand her the carcass of the skate.
Coach Q's eyes get wide. "Oh my god, I've never seen that before!" She looks up at another Coach. "Coach S! Look at this!"
Coach S gives the skate a look. "What brand is that??"
"Reidell," says Ms V. "It's supposed to be good quality, but we got it secondhand..."
"He can't skate in this," says Coach S.
"But we can't get new skates so close to competition," says Ms V.
"Call Coach H," Coach S says. "He's good at skate repair. But it may not be done by the competition."
"I guess Gordon is rough on his skates," Ms V is kinda freaked out.
Yes, he's rough on his skates. But he's rough on his skates because you let him tear around the lobby for a half hour after lessons are done with the skates on. They aren't jogging shoes. That's also why his blades are in such bad shape. But I didn't say anything. What was the point?
I excused myself to help Stitch practice. I was watching him do forward crossovers when Ms V came back in. She looked resigned. "Coach H says he can't skate in them, it's not safe. I don't know what to do."
Me neither, but can I be a fly on the wall when you tell Coach Y about this? "Something will work out, you can get new skates or borrow some." (This is a lesson in equipment maintenance, folks! That didn't happen overnight!)
She talked with me forever, while Gordon was tearing all around, poking at Stitch whenever he came to the ice door. At one point, Stitch fell and Gordon was prancing all around.. "Stitch went boom! Stitch went boom! Stitch went boom!" I swear my eye got a tic.

Ms V was complaining about how the boys will be separated from the girls for this comp, so it will be harder for them to win. This is funny, because she used the exact opposite excuse as to why it would be hard for Gordon to win at the USFS comps. Just as I was longing for a flask of vodka to help me with my Diet Coke, she and Gordon departed.

But wait, there's more!

Other Kid walked up. "What level is Stitch competing at?"
"Freestyle one," I hope.
"I'm at Freestyle two. So that means he's going into Freestyle one."
"No, that means he's going into Freestyle two."
"No, he's going into Freestyle one."
Kid. I'm going to stash your body either under the stands or between the speedskating mats. "Well, he's competing at Freestyle one."
"My coach says that if I do a good job at the July Opening (sic), I can skip Freestyle three and four, so then I can get a solo in winter show."
"Do you think that's a good idea?"
"Oh yes! I can do a solo!"
"Excuse me for a moment." I bolted through the lobby, dying. I had to find a safe place to laugh.

Skip Freestyle three and four? Just like that? I mean, it's one thing to skip Beta maybe... but something else to jump two freestyle levels just because you managed to get through your competition without breaking your butt. Secondly, I don't know what solo this kid has in mind, but it won't be a lead role of any kind! If any of that happens, I'm complaining. Especially since Stitch is being put through the wringer on backwards inside edges and the steady of his spiral. 

Finally, with three wet runs of his program, a full six minutes of backwards inside edges and spirals later, Stitch and I headed out. He bought some candy and a Diet Coke for me, what a sweetheart. He was in a good mood, but I reminded him that he needed to be polite tomorrow for lessons lest he risk losing all his weekend activities. He was okay with this, and we had a minor disagreement as to which run of his program was the best, first or third. I also mentioned that it was probably a little odd to start dancing to someone else's program music. He didn't see a problem with this.

Summertime Skating

Practice Ice. Stitch and I are in the car, heading to the rink. Stitch is reading his Basic Skills book. "Someone needs to put a sticker next to 'waltz jump'," he says. "I can do that."
"You can do a lot of things in that book."
"Yeah!"

We get to the rink and watch the last of some lessons, and then it's practice time. I send Stitch off to start forward stroking and Another Mom hits me. "Haven't seen you in awhile!"
"Lovely skirt, nice to see you again," I really do like the skirt.
"Daughter has lessons, what are you doing here?"
"Practice, nothing special."

Coach arrives and speaks to Other Mom. "Do you have music?"
"No," says Other Mom. "I don't know how to do it. Do you have anything we can use?"
"She'll do it for you," Coach points to me. "She does a nice job."
Other Mom whips on me. "Can you? My friend can't do the fade in or out. We couldn't make it sound nice."
"Sure. Just tell me what you want."
Other Mom is now ignoring me and talking to Coach about something else. Stitch has come off the ice for his next task, backwards something. I send him back out, Coach goes out with Daughter, and Other Mom turns back to me. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
"Just tell me what you want, what she likes."
"Can you do Love Shack?"
"Absolutely."
"It's got to be ninety seconds, and I forget what the leeway is..." she turns back to the ice, looking for Coach.
"It's plus or minus ten seconds," I say. "No worries."
"I should check," she keeps looking out.
"No, it's fine, Stitch's is the same."

Other Mom and I settle business and they depart. Stitch is skating, playing around, doing his program. Another Mom approaches me. "Nice to see you!"
"Oh, hi," I realize that this is pretty incriminating, me standing there with a notebook and stopwatch.
"Where is Stitch?"
"On the ice."
"What is he doing?"
He's knitting socks. "Just practicing today."
"Oh. My boy is having lessons. Is Stitch having lessons over the summer, too?"
"For part of the summer, and then he leaves for a few weeks."
Other Mom gets that awful look. "Oh. My boy is only skating once a week over the summer."
I look out and he's having lessons with a Coach. But just once a week? Here? My brain quirks a bit but I nod and smile.

"Mom!" Stitch calls me over. "What's next?!"
"Choice," I go to him. "Program again or Stupid Duck?"
Stitch finds the new misnomer hilarious. "Stupid duck!"
"Two laps, go!"

Other Mom comes over to inspect. "What is this?"
"Oh, practice routine. Nothing special."
"You got this from Coach?" Other Mom is taking a hard look at the notebook.
"Sure."
"That's nice."

No two words were ever more dangerous coming out of a mother's mouth. I know, because I say them a lot, too. Other Mom retreats to the lobby, and I time Stitch to see how fast he can do a lap of Power Threes. He beats his old time by seven seconds, and this makes him happy. "This ice is too crowded," he says. "I keep running into people when I do my program."
"Well, you've just got to work with it. Nothing I can do."
He rolls his eyes, and tries again.

We head home and I cut Love Shack, omitting the parts about dancing naked and glittered mattresses. I save the start and ending, coming in at 1.27. Not bad. Stitch and I watch some TV, and he's up until well past nine again. Summer is definitely upon us. Tomorrow they go to the rink again without me, and I can't wait to hear how that goes. Grandma will deliver the music to Coach, and Other Mom will have Coach deliver payment. It's not much, but it buys me a coffee treat.

All in all, a good day.

Yesterday I got to watch lessons that originally The Sitter was going to handle. It was a nice treat, since I typically like watching Practice Ice, and the cool rink was a nice respite from the heat wave.

I was putting Stitch in skates, and he kept taking off one and fiddling with it. "Stitch, what's wrong?"
"This thing inside is folding over. It hurts."
"Oh." So myself, Rink Pal, and an Ice Dance guy who happened to be nearby all fiddled with Stitch's skate and the problematic insole. The clock was ticking, and I had to turn in a coupon and music, so I finally just removed the insole entirely.
"How's that?" I asked.
"Much better," Stitch rolled his eyes. "These skates hurt my toes. I want new skates."
I frowned. "What do you mean? Are these skates getting too small?"
"Yes!"
"Stitch, I ask you all the time, 'how do your skates feel' and you always tell me they're fine. Now you say they're too small?"
"Yes! I need new skates!"
"I'll deal with this later. Go get on the ice, Coach is out there and so is Gordon."

I watched the boys learn a small step sequence and thought about this. The New Skate Fund is pretty healthy, the question is timing. Realistically, I can't get new skates just yet. My plan is to order new skates after the competition, we would wait for them while he's away and he can have them when he returns in August. I'll run this by Coach and ask for suggestions on what to get. In the meantime, I can just remove the insoles on these skates and make a little more room. (I learned after the lesson that one skate was already missing the insole.)

Coach seemed to be yelling a bit more than usual. Gordon was oblivious but Stitch was fighting back. I could see him whirling around after an attempt and throwing up his hands like, "what? Wasn't that good enough?" and Coach would come over and correct him. I have to give him credit for balls, but I need to talk to him about manners.

They ran their programs once, and Stitch tripped on a toepick, falling hard on a damn bunny hop of all things. He got up slowly, seemed to look for Coach to save him, but she just stood there. And Stitch kept going, finishing the program slowly and clearly painfully. At that point, Coach saved him, taking him to the boards where he relaxed for a bit.

It seems harsh, but it's necessary.

At the end of the lesson, Stitch was working on his kneel slide, finally parking his butt on the ice in frustration. Coach grabbed him by his skate blades and dragged him around, much to the boys' hilarity. The mood seemed much lifted after that, and she gave them some laps to race as the Ice Monitor kicked everyone out.

I was nursing a headache in the rink, so by the time lessons were done I was anxious to get out of the processed chill and back into some fresh air. Gordon and Stitch were once again hitting the vending machines, Stitch infecting Gordon with a love of all things automated. Coach told me she'd see us Sunday, and she'd take him if one of her Sunday crew didn't show. That's fine. She then began talking to Ms V about more ice, Ice for Moves, telling her that Gordon needed to skate more. I left. For some reason, I just didn't want to witness the hand-holding that day. They talked for a long time, while I just got Stitch to change clothes and put on real shoes.

I forgot to ask about advice on new skates.

In the car on the way home, I asked Stitch, "I saw Coach drag you around, that was pretty funny. What prompted that?"
"Oh, I was saying that I was a dummy and she did that."
"Why would you call yourself a dummy?"
"Because I couldn't do it right."
"So? That's why this is practice, and lessons, and learning. You're not a dummy, you're learning. It takes time to get it right."
"Ugh."
"Whatever."

We then talked about his field trip the next day, and everything seemed fine again. I let him play with the hose in the front yard for awhile, and thought about his apparent insecurity.

The end of the school year is when all their journals and notebooks and papers come home. In one of them, Stitch had written a list of what makes him happy. Right at the top was, "First place in Computishun," and "Trophys."

Stitch may not have the most expensive toys at the store, but I think the things that make him happy are a lot better than toys.

2013

Today I was in Full On Suburban Mom Mode. First stop, groceries. Then, Ice Show practice. Next, lunch and library. Further, Play Date Dropoff. Last stop, Rink again. I set up shop in the lobby with my beads and my computer, where I waited for Stitch and Lucy to arrive, and Coach to tell me what Stitch needed to practice.

Before long, my good friend Lady Cluck and her two daughters arrived, another of Stitch's classmates arrived with a birthday party, Fab Skater's mom sat down with us and we all chatted about the merits of hip flasks. After the first hour, Stitch and Lucy arrived from their playdate, we put skates on them and all five kids were on the ice. Lady Cluck and I stayed in the lobby where we talked and righted the kids as they came off the ice periodically to beg for candy and snacks and soda, and to whine about their non-injuries.

Coach arrived and told me she would talk to me after Public was done. That's fine. Lady Cluck agreed to take the kids to the playground while Coach and I talked, as I had to take Lucy home afterwards. Everything was going fine until Public ended and the kids came barreling out of the rink, all of them needing help with de-skating. Stitch had that look where he appeared to be close to tears. I knew what had happened but I let it go for lack of time. We could talk later. Lady Cluck and I worked as fast as we could, but Coach was faster so I had to pry off Stitch's skates and leave Lucy to her own blade drying. I threw three dollars at them for snacks and went to talk with Coach.

Lucy appeared just as Coach was going into detail about proper extension. "I NEED A NAPKIN!"
"GO TO THE COUNTER." I pointed.

Three seconds later she tossed her dirty napkin and empty candy wrapper at me, left her Zuca by our table and I was mortified. If Coach noticed, she didn't say anything. Stitch has better manners.

Coach talked me through a large and thorough list of Stuff Stitch must do on the ice. Stroking, crossovers, spirals, spinning, waltz jumping, etc. All stuff I tell him to do, but it hasn't been on a List so he's been getting confused. Now that I have something hard and defined, it should be easier.

I went to the playground, Lady Cluck and I ate cookies and watched the kids play, and slowly rounded them up to take them home. Lucy didn't seem to mind the fact I was driving The Beater that day, only commenting on the mess in the back. "It's my dad's car," Stitch explained. I dropped her off, setting her Zuca on the curb for her and wishing her a good evening. She turned on her heel and walked to her door, leaving her Zuca for me.
"Ahem," I said pointedly.
Lucy rolled her eyes and came back for her Zuca.

On the way home, I asked Stitch why he had been so upset.
"Because Coach grabbed me and wasted all my time to play with my friends."
Yup. "You played with your friends on the playground. You play with your friends every day at school. Ice time is precious, and time with Coach is even more precious. If she's giving time to you, that's pure gold. Don't complain about that, ever. Understand?"
"Yes." But it was a mad yes.
"You want to compete? You want medals and trophies?"
"Yes."
"Then you get them by practicing and doing what Coach tells you. You know that. I won't enter you in competitions if I don't think you have a shot at winning."
"But you signed me up for the July Open, right?"
"That paperwork isn't out. And again, I won't enter you if I don't think you'll have a chance at winning."
Silence.

We got home and made dinner. I sat down and prettied up The New List. It's long and kind of intimidating. But doable. Stitch and I went outside and I explained things. "You need to do this every time you get on the ice. I will talk to your guard friends and explain that you have to practice first, so they leave you alone, okay?"
Stitch is looking at it.
"Coach says you need to jump higher on Waltz jumps. Also you're not flexible enough, and you need to really work on Shoot the Duck."
"I hate shoot the duck."
"You can't do sit spins without shoot the duck. Right?"
"Yeah."
"So let's come out here at night and do some stretching on days you don't skate. Okay?"

Stitch set his lip. He took a Twizzler and pretended to smoke, studying The New List. Then he jumped rope, did spiral stretches, shoot the duck, waltz jumps, then asked me what was next.
"I don't know. I think we're done."
"No, that was only four things. There has to be more."
"I don't think so."
"I'm not giving up, " he says.
"On what?"
"On these twizzlers, or on this list."
"Well, that's good. But we can do more tomorrow."
"I want that gold medal."
"What gold medal?"
"The one with my name on it."
"In which competition? Do you even know?" I'm fearing the answer.
"The one in 2013," he says like I'm stupid.
"Oh. Well, that's a solid goal then. Do I have permission to be pushy on you to get it?"
"You already pushed me over on Shoot the Duck."
It's true, I did. "Yeah. So can I?"
"You don't have a license."
"I'll make one. 2013, huh?"
"Yup."
"Well, okay."

2013 it is.

Ice Time

Yesterday, Stitch was the only kid to show up for Boy's Ice Show rehearsal. The only one. Even the Coach was looking at me like I was insane. "Shouldn't you just go??" seemed to be the undercurrent of the afternoon. Nope. Not going anywhere, thank you. If those other kids can't be bothered to show up, then I will gladly take a half hour of private time on the big rink with a free coach, which is about a $200 value. Yessir, I think we'll stay!

Doubtless Free Coach can't and won't do much, but he did pace Stitch through some crossovers and spirals and shoot the ducks. Hey, that's enough for me, and with Coach out of town I won't tell if you won't. I parked my butt on the bench and stayed. Another Coach was looking at me sideways, perhaps also wondering what the heck was going on, but I've earned my lessons. Ice Time is Precious Time.

Towards the end of a group lesson, the next group will start showing up, hanging off the door and waiting. Skaters on the ice and Moms with skaters not yet on the ice are all watching the clock. Watch them dart glances at it every few seconds, cramming in one more jump, one more spin. When that clock is wrong, people know it. Everyone wants their every second. When the time starts ticking past time, Moms will start pacing, and skaters dragging their asses better watch out. Get your tissues, get your guards and get out. It's my time now!

It's worse when there's a coach involved. Then the timer starts running. I have felt the angry vibrations of a mom timing a Group Coach talking on and on and on and on while the students stand still. I've timed one of them myself, and she clocked in at ten minutes of yammering before students started moving. I almost pulled him from that class. Coaches, moms don't have much time for on-ice blather.

If it's a private lesson, then the claws are out before the lesson even starts. I show up fifteen minutes before Stitch's start time, and I have him ready to go on the bench just outside the ice door, waiting. Currently I am hating our lesson time slot because it overlaps with a high level group who unapologetically take up the majority of the ice. I feel this cheats Stitch, so I'm anxious to find another time. (Even to the point of switching with Gordon, even though he doesn't have the speed to keep up or dodge. I've debated bringing it up with Ms V.) I have felt bad when Coach has stopped with another student on a public session to talk to Stitch. She's on someone else's dime, she shouldn't be bothering with Stitch. I've told him not to bother his Junior Coach friend while she's with a student, nor to bother his friends if they are getting a lesson.

Sunday afternoon, though, other girls and moms began arriving, looking out at the one boy with some raised brows. "Just him?" asked one mom. "Why even stay?" she looked at me funny. Nope, I'm not leaving early. Noon is when my time is up, and Noon is when I'm leaving. Stay off my ice please!

That having been said, I'm going to step out and say that I did do something terrible on Sunday. I suffer from Hot Feet, and the suddenly warm day had making my feet miserable. An ice surface seemed like a relief. So, while Stitch was on the ice alone and Other Coach was out talking to someone, I took my shoe off and put my bare foot on the ice. Worst. Idea. Ever. Do not ever do this, no matter the temptation.

Another Skating Saturday

And I'm tired. We started out at 7:15 with Coach, arriving just barely on time because Stitch was dawdling in the snow. Ms. Valium was there, saying hi to me and how Gordon was upset at having to be at the rink so early. "But he was fine once he got on the ice," she smiled.

"Oh, I'm sure," I said, familiar with the phenomenon myself.

Gordon stormed out of the doors. "Can we just go now?"

Apparently he was not fine. Ms. Valium and I shrugged, and went our separate ways. Sometimes kids are just testy. I sent Stitch on in, dropped off the CD next to Coach's player, and went for a Diet Coke. (Concession stand not open and not in the mood for machine coffee.) I was playing fishbowl, listening to the Synchro team and their Coach go over their routine, enjoying the quiet, when I realized that PrepSchool wasn't there. He should be with Coach Olympia and that bunch. I watched them jump and spin, and realized that there was no way PrepSchool would have been able to keep up with that. Huh.

Then Stitch and Coach started doing Waltz Jumps. I was expecting another go-around of tries and weird landings, but the Stitch landed a nice one. And another nice one. And then he started overthinking it and got wonky, but two nice ones! Another Coach skated over and they were talking to Stitch, all smiles and pats on the head.

Coach came running out. "We need music."
"I left it by the CD player for you," I thought she'd seen me do that, but I guess not.
"Oh," she seemed pleasantly surprised anyway.
Stitch ran his program a few times, and then it was time to move on. Coach seemed pleased and her next student was waiting. The second Coach came to the door. "He's so good, very good!"

Honest fact: Whenever a Coach (or anyone) praises Stitch, I only listen to the first three words. The rest I tune out. If I get absorbed in the praise, it would be too easy for me to go to The Dark Side of being a Skate Parent. So, all I really listened to was "He's so good," and I said "thanks" quickly before scheduling next time with Coach. (That's another thing I like about Coach, she's sparse with the praise towards me.)

She then said Stitch could stay for another half hour, but Stitch said he wanted to go to Rink Across Town. This was fine by me, since it was what I had originally planned. So I had him leave his skates on and off we went. I dropped him off by the front door so I could park the car, and told him to please just go in and get started with forward stroking. Stitch went in, and when I got in myself, Stitch was in the rink like a good boy, forward stroking. I left him the list and the egg timer, and away we went with Practice Ice. Or rather, he went. He's getting really good at managing himself.

Another mom and I chatted before Stitch waved to me to count the revolutions of his spins. This is getting really hard for me, he spins faster now. Shhhh, sometimes I make up the numbers! I left him his coffee, and he took a break, and it was all a familiar and happy routine. He took a few falls, but was up without a problem. Nothing funny today... except when Stitch was doing edges and decided to liven things up by changing foot and/or edge by hopping. This scared the crap out of me, which he noticed and did more of while giggling. He then did hops while trying backwards one-foot glides, which again scared the crap out of me, so Practice Ice turned into Scare Mom Ice.

But he was still confusing edges on 3 turns. I hope it gels for him at some point.

We headed home for breakfast, and then it was off to what is always the liveliest part of my Saturday, Group Lessons.

Stitch took off for warm-up, and started jogging. I mean, high kneed jogging, scaring me to death and making the girls giggle as he passed by. He went backwards, he bunny hopped, he swizzled, he did all sorts of things, which was good since the Coaches really had no interest in assisting with the warm-ups at all.  They chatted amongst themselves, looked a clipboards, and only one of them was helping the fallers and stragglers. Urgh. The kids all separated into their classes having just done a glorified Public Skate.

Honestly, I'm going to miss this session. I have four weeks left of watching Pre-Alpha parents, half of whom are facemashed to the glass watching their Olympian take Learning Dives and the other half would rather be kicked by a mule than freezing in an ice rink watching their kid fall. Beside me was a Dad playing solitaire on his iPhone while his daughter looked up to see if he was watching her do one-foot glides. Above me was a mom screaming "Glide! Gliiiiide!" to her daughter, Purple Tutu, who was duckwalking.

I started thinking. Kids learning to skate I guess is a lot like Kids learning to walk. Think back to all those parenting "manuals" you read while immobile and eating everything in sight. They said that it takes about 1000 hours of practice for a kid to learn to walk. Read that again. 1000 hours. Practice. Walking. Taken in skating terms, at six hours a week (what Stitch averages out to) he'd still need about two years to learn to walk. So, think of it that way, and the progress being made in any given Pre-Alpha class is phenomenal. It's not just forward gliding, it's backward swizzling and balancing on this really thin blade. While they're learning to walk, babies make up all kinds of weird ways to get around, just because it works. Remember the funny cousin who scooched on his little butt for what felt like forever, and everyone said he'd never walk right because he never crawled "right?" Yeah. He walked eventually, and Purple Tutu will glide like a champ someday, provided her mom doesn't yell at her too much.

Anyway, I was freezing my ass off, shivering and cranky. I think I looked like it, as no one spoke to me. After class Stitch went to get some coffee and I went to settle business with Coach. She seemed a bit nervous as I approached, only smiling when she realized I was just paying her. It hit me then that I'd been scowling for the past hour. I hate being cold.

A real bonus to doing these competitions is that it's making this winter go by faster. I'm not concerned with the temperature, I'm now thinking of a day in March and those twenty-odd days now seem short. Who knew.

But we're finally home. Housework is done and we watched the Nationals Gala on TV. Stitch is now doing skating moves, and we're off for late skate tonight. I'm thinking of making cookies for the gang, as the blizzard was awful and knocked out half the spaces in the stupid lot. Parking battles merit cookies, IMO.

Yay, Practice Ice!

Well, after listening to Stitch rail at the judges for making Jeremy Abbott "lose", I packed him off for some surprise Practice Ice. Typically we hit the Public Skate on Sundays, but that had been pushed to the Studio due to a hockey game. I decided to skip that today, and good thing. The Maintenance Friend told me that it was absolutely packed. I don't like chaotic ice, it's useless to me.

The place was blessedly empty and peaceful. I love it like this. Lots of space, no loud noise, and usually only the cool people are there. We ran into Fab Skater and Coach B, chatted for awhile and then headed into the rink. Stitch kept asking, "Can I go on? How about now? Now?" It's never good when he's running up and down the outside of the boards like a penned animal.

Fab Skater was coaching, Coach B was in the hockey box with her ankle, and Coach M was there with NariNam. NariNam's Dad held me hostage for awhile talking about how "if you teach your kid skating you know they're going to have a career."
"Oh, sure, they can always Coach..." I offer, not really sure what he's talking about.
"No, they'll either be a great skater, or they'll drive the Zamboni."

There was this weird pause as I realized that he wanted me to laugh. I was actually kinda horrified. Stitch was doing his forward stroking, warming up until Coach arrived, tying her skates pretty much as she got on the ice. Hey, Nationals just got done.

Stitch worked with Coach for the first half hour, with the new music. She was getting him to try some new connecting moves and arm waving, fluffing up the existing program. I'm not a big fan of arm-waving, but Coach has some nice ways to make it work with the elements. There was some more jumping, and Stitch was doing some toepick hops with his exuberance. NariNam's Dad even commented on it. "Is he doing a routine?"

"Yeah, they're revamping the old program for another competition." I mentally reminded myself to mail that damn entry form when I went by the post office tomorrow morning.
"Oh." He sounded contemplative. "He competes?"
"Yeah, he likes it."
"Oh," he concluded. And then he goes on about his goals for NariNam's endurance, then excuses himself to the lobby.

I watch Coach and Stitch, finding myself doing toe-curls inside my shoes during the three turns. Stitch catches my grimace when he mixes up edges, and it throws him off for the rest of the program. Crap. Need to sit higher up.

In comes Mr. Valium and Gordon. Yay! Mr. Valium looks discombobulated. He throws on Gordon's Skates and then starts throwing things out of the bag, on the phone with someone. Gordon is wringing his hands and whining, as Coach starts calling for him. I hop down to "say hello."

"Music," Gordon is whining.
"Honey, you didn't pack the music," Mr. Valium is terse. "Gordon says Coach wanted music. Gordon, did she ask you for the music this time, or did she do it just now?"
"She wanted music," Gordon isn't getting the question, because it's dumb. (Tipper; You keep a copy of your competition music in your skate bag and a second copy in your Skate Mom's purse until Coach tells you to ditch it.)

So the angry phone call goes on while Gordon goes on the ice and starts skating around. "Hey," I finally speak up. "How are you guys?"
Mr. Valium looks like he wants to kill me for being so perky.
"Did Gordon have fun last Sunday?"
Mr. Valium shrugs. "I guess. I mean, he got a trophy which he liked, but he came in third. One of those other kids, he was doing things above the level..."
"Wow, that's awful," I was frantically trying to remember the skaters but all that I could bring back was that stupid song.
"Well, Coach tried to question it, but it didn't work."
"Hey, he got a trophy, that's good."
Mr Valium shrugged. "So, does Stitch do anything else?"
"No. He doesn't want to. I've asked."
"Huh. Well, Gordon likes skating, but he doesn't have a passion for it. I mean, we're not thinking about quads."
"Me neither." I smile at Stitch, who is running his program again, alongside Gordon, who for the second time is using Stitch's music to run his program. Quads? Let's do proper Bunny Hops first.
Mr Valium is quiet for a bit. "So I'm basically wasting a lesson, since he doesn't have his music."
"You're never wasting a lesson," I turn to him, but he's actually on his cell phone, arguing with Ms. Valium again.

Where did the cool people go? I sigh and watch the kids, and Stitch is dismissed so he skates to me for instruction. I start giving him orders via smartphone, and Mr Valium asks what I'm doing. "Oh, it's a sign thing," I try to explain, but Mr Valium is apparently not interested.
"We're just not here that often," he brushes it off.

Things start winding down, and the boys spend the last seconds swizzling the rink from front to back before the zamboni chases them off. Stitch's squeal as he noticed the thing backing onto the ice was priceless. Maintenance Friend would never run him down!

Coach and the Boys exit the ice, and Mr Valium tries to flag down Coach, but she makes a beeline for me. She gives me some orders to have Stitch watch some music videos, perhaps to inspire him to dance, and I agree. We talk about the disappointment that Jeremy didn't make Worlds, but it's okay. Next weekend, we're on.

I declare that we have to stop at the store for Pie, since it was such a good practice (and it's so late and Stitch hung on like a champ.) A bottle of RG wouldn't hurt, either. We come home to Dad's meatloaf and mashed potatoes, and life is good. Stitch makes some amazing faces as I tell him he has to eat some asparagus spears before having pie, but he eats them. He starts whistling "Dynamite" and from there the conversation is downhill. Eventually we're down to farting noises and it's done, but in the best way possible.

Yes, even without quads, life is good.



If this doesn't get Dynamite out of your head, nothing will.

Great Ice Day

This morning I let Stitch do his own practice ice. I gave him the list, a pencil to check off the elements, and the egg timer. I went to the stands and held my breath.

Stitch worked. He went down the list methodically, even though I've told him he can jump around. Backwards one foot glides, backwards stroking, more boring crossovers, and those dratted three turns. Other Coaches did their business, and Stitch strategically avoided them. I only had to tell him once to find a clearer spot to work, and beyond that he was on his own. I bought him his French Vanilla, setting it on the bench to cool while he did three turns. I told him to take a coffee break at 8:30, which he did, and then he was right back to work. While I was very pleased and proud, this unfortunately left me having to listen to two moms of some young girl skaters learning swizzles and one foot glides. The two girls were running rings around their preppy coach, wasting time and playing with each other.

"Look at her, she is just so loving this," one mom went off about her own daughter.
"Yes, they had such a good time at the competition," said the other mother.
"She just loves to spin, but she doesn't know how to stop! Hahahaha!"
Blah blah blah.

I tuned them out in time for Nice Mom to arrive. I greeted her and looked for her little girl, looking much stronger in her swizzling these days. "Looking good," I commented.

"Yes! You were right, she skated more to get ready for the competition and I saw a big difference!"
"Yup. They just need to be on the ice."
"Did your son compete?"
"Oh yeah, he had a blast."
"Did he..." she trailed off.
"Oh, first place. Good times."

The other moms shut up fast and bored holes into the side of my head.

"What about yours?" I ignored them. "Did she get a trophy?"
"Third place."
"That's great! Congratulations."
"She was skating against those two girls," Nice Mom pointed out to the wobbly brats and I tried not to bristle.
"Well, I'm sorry I missed her. I would have loved to have seen her." It's true, I like her little girl. She took a hard fall on a crossover, and Cool Coach didn't help her up, but explained why she fell. Little girl got up and tried again, no complaints. Yes, I like her.

Stitch started doing Spirals, lazy and awful. Oh well, our next stop is Coach and she'll put a stop to that.

Nice Mom and I keep talking, ignoring the self congratulating chatter next to us. "So I should just bring her to public skate?" Nice Mom asks.
"Yes, just let her play," I notice that the other gabbing has stopped and they are glaring, listening to me. "I tell Stitch to do some work, like ten swizzles, forward and back. Do ten one foot glides on each foot, and so on. But let her play. It's comfort you're looking for."
"I'm going to do that. She loves to skate."
"Then let her skate."

At five to nine, I hopped down to the boards. "Okay, Stitch. That's the end of the list. Good work!"
"No," he zips by me. "I wrote something else!" he zips by again. Sure enough, he wrote "GO REALLY FAST!" at the bottom.
"Okay, but they're going to kick you off! There's lessons coming in!"

Sure enough, Stitch got booted off the ice. We headed out to the lobby and there was Nutso, sitting at a bench. "Hi!" she greets me.
I wave back.
"How was the competition?"
"Uh, really great. We really enjoyed it. Definitely going to try to do it again next year."
"Did he win?"
OH YES, HE WON THE WHOLE DAMN THING! "He took first place in his event."
"That's so great!" her tone is paper thin. "We have to see pictures!"
Why am I so unnerved at this moment? Why does she want pictures? This isn't making sense. Her daughter despises Stitch. Whatever, I wander over with my phone (which has all my incriminating tweets on it so I'm frantically closing applications) and show her the few pictures I got on it that day.
"Oh, look," she grabs it and shows That Other One. "Look at Stitch and his Trophy!"
Okay, now it's me and That Other One who are uncomfortable. That Other One clearly doesn't give a whit about some other kid and his trophy. I don't blame her. I take my phone back and use the thin "gotta get my card punched" excuse to leave.

With that weirdness behind us, Stitch and I go get some breakfast. I talk about math, a new chapter book we should start reading together, and school. Stitch doesn't like the chapter book idea, but it's Phantom Tollbooth which is one of my favorites (and a stunning allegory into the world of figure skating.) Stitch then makes the statement that Group Classes are boring. "They're boring because you ignore the coach and don't work hard," I tell him. It's true, without someone looking right at him, he half-asses it. Stitch rolls his eyes. "Better work today, it's evaluation day."
"Ugh!" says Stitch.

We head to Home Rink, put on skates and there is Coach. Apparently this entry form is my responsibility this time, as she hands it back to me and says to mail it. Blah.

I sat for awhile to wait, watching the Coach Olympia Club chatter on a bench. Coach Olympia was in the middle, all her adoring students showing their evaluation papers for her blessing. She eventually called them over to the far corner for stretching. "Prepschool!" she shouted. "PrepSchool! Get over here! Run!"
"Which one's PrepSchool?" a girl asked.
"The boy," Olympia sighed.
"We have a boy," girl points to blond boy.
"The other boy," Olympia snaps. They start doing stretches and I just warm up skates using the bathroom hand dryer.

"Stitch, can I stay in the lobby today?" I ask, putting on skates.
"What? No."
"I'll be at the glass playing fishbowl, is that okay?"
"No."
"I'll still see you. I can't play fishbowl?"
"NO."
"I have to be in there? It's cold in there."
"I need you in there."
Hard to argue with that, so I put on my coat.

And I sit on the cold bench in the cold room, watching Coach Olympia seem to do everything possible to get in the way of Stitch's back crossovers and spins. She kept running her two tot skaters right down the middle of the rink rather than close to the boards, so Stitch and Coach were chronically interrupted. Richie Rich and Coach Diamond seem to have hit a wall. There's nothing new going on here, they seem to be at the same place they were a month ago; forward crossovers and backward half pumps. Richie Rich just doesn't seem all that interested in lessons, and Coach Diamond is phoning it in.

The good story is the Dad and his Tot on skates, on Practice Ice, with the both of them falling all over each other. These kinds of things are fine at Public Skate, we expect it then. But not here. Here, you're just embarrassing yourself. Dad picked up Tot (eeeeeeeeeeggghhkkkk), carried him to mom and pointed to the skates. He went off in another language, but I could surmise that Dad blamed Mom for poorly tied skates. Dad was accurate, Mom slipped off the skate while it was fully laced up. I thought about offering to help, but I thought I'd have better luck bailing out the Titanic. Dad then went back onto the ice where he nearly bowled into Coach Olympia, which, had he completed the move, would have been my awesome moment of the day.

Mom decides that Tot is done, so she lets him run around. Tot finds the cones, and tastes them. My yeeeccchhhggg reflex darts to stop him, Mom actually gets testy with my interference, and takes him away. Tot begins screaming bloody murder, a howling, back arching fit. Everyone on the ice is disturbed by this, but she doesn't take him out. Finally, after getting dirty looks from everyone and me just laughing at her, she leaves with Tot. 

Coach begins yelling at Stitch, and to my surprise, Stitch was responding. I think she's feeling him out. Go ahead, yell at him. I like Coach's style, she's 20% Mary Poppins and 80% Jack London. Stitch needs a no-nonsense teacher. I wish his school Teacher would get this. They come off the ice, and Coach informs me that they are aiming for a Perfect Program for March. She's aiming for solid elements. I like this.

She gives me "homework;" Spiral and Lunge stretches Stitch must do at home. We got lazy over the holidays and stopped stretching, so I'll start doing that again. There's some ice on the Big Rink tomorrow, which is good since Pub Skate got relegated to the Small Rink. (Dumb.) Stitch is starting to drag, but he's just got to hold on for another half hour of Boring Beta. "Stay off the wall," I turn him loose on the ice. (He hangs on the wall, and when that happens, he goes off into his own world. That's when class gets "boring" for him.)

So, I watch Group Classes and Group Parents. My skating Saturdays always wind down with Light Entertainment. At least two moms were flapping their arms, several were tight lipped at the sight of clipboards, and the dads were bored. I watch Stitch, again blowing off the Coach and I give up.

Evals get done, and Stitch is dismayed by his paper. Back XO, both directions, "Needs improvement."

"But I did them," he says.
"Did you do them right?"
"UGH!"

We take off for home. Public Skating tonight, and some surprise Practice Ice tomorrow. I'll rework The List to do more program elements, and of course we will do stretching. A really great day, but it's really too bad that Dad didn't hit his target.

Ten Star Rewards Program

Last night I began the Ten Star Rewards Program. For every good day on the ice; good practice, good form, and no whining, Stitch earns a gold star. (Real shiny lapel pin stars, not stickers) When he earns ten stars, he can trade them in for a Special Prize. What's the prize? You tell me, I made a poll down there at the bottom of the page. Stitch seemed to like this idea, let's hope it works.

We missed Jeremy Abbott's SP last night, so we'll have to catch it later on today on IceNetwork. (And Stitch is really upset that Jeremy's in second right now, but this is a teaching moment about the nature of competition.)

I have to cut a CD and then it's time to make the donuts!

Once more, with feeling

So, all respectful disagreements aside, skating goes on. Stitch and I were up with the dawn, on our way out the door for clean, soft ice and an hour of solid practice.

Well, almost an hour. Negating break times and a bad fall, it amounted more to forty five minutes. In all, a success. Backwards stroking continues to improve, three turns look good, those one foot spins are coming easier, and Stitch just needs to learn that the point of spinning is not to make yourself dizzy.  There were a few more souls on the ice today, young coaches and little girls preparing little programs for the looming competition. I got some dirty looks from the young female coaches, but I didn't really care.

We headed home for a few minutes to rest, then back out for Group Lessons. Stitch got eager once he saw the ice, chomping at the bit to go out and do something. I warmed his skates, laced them up, and off he went. He was bunny hopping and jogging, much to the consternation of the Pre-Alphas still struggling.

I love listening to the parents, really. The Pre-Alpha Parental Squad was face-mashed to the glass as though this were an aquarium. They haven't learned that the kids can't hear you, so there was a lot of yelling right up at the glass, at eye level of the kid being yelled at. Kids, in turn, paid more attention to their screaming parents than the lesson at hand. I think some Coaches were about to hurl a few mittens and epithets at the offending parties. A mom behind me was griping that her daughters had "forgotten everything they learned" last time. Never mind that last time was two weeks ago and it didn't seem like they'd been to Public at all.

I just watched Stitch. Our sign language has devolved to just a "thumbs up" for doing good and an "OK" sign for a fall. (The OK sign must be returned to indicate OKness.) He was doing good, his interim coach having a bit of a time getting him to slow down and actually do the maneuver correctly. But his back crossovers are steadily smoothing out. I'm pleased. The Betas are kept far from the Parental Peanut Gallery, perhaps an indication of the decreased level of parental involvement required.

Afterwards, a mom came up to me and asked, "Is he yours?" pointing to Stitch.

"Yes."
"He's really good! How long has he been skating?"
"Uh, since March."
"Oh my goodness! Just that long? He looks like he's been skating for years!"
"Well, he skates a lot... " I try to go into the hours involved.
"You might have a champion on your hands!"
"No, you see, he skates about six hours...."

But she was off and gone. Ah well.

Tonight the In-Laws are visiting, so I banished Stitch to his room for some much-needed rest. They're going to want to skate tonight.

Welcome to Beta -or- It's Three Turns to get into Hell

Day one of the Grand Experiment went off without a hitch. Dad asked me what on earth I was doing, but I explained that 6am on a Saturday beats the hell out of 4:30am on a Thursday. Stitch and I got up, made our way to Rink Across Town, and got in forty five minutes of solid practice. The Egg Timer, ever the neutral arbiter of time in a young child's eyes, dutifully recorded three minutes each of stroking, crossovers, lunges, bunny hops and spins. (And some other things.. one of which had the unfortunate acronym STD on my list.) Stitch made some pretty fast spins; at one point he came over to the boards and said, "I spun so fast, the boogers flew out of my nose. Can I have a tissue?"

After practice, we had breakfast, and headed over to Home Rink for Private Lesson with Real Coach. She was glad to see us, and listened to the music. "It's a waltz," she seemed to have been hoping for something a little more fun. "But we can work with that." She said she'd spend today figuring out what level to put Stitch at for the comp. Okay, fine. We've got two solid weeks to practice.

Coach Diamond and Richie Rich were having an off day. Richie was arguing, whining and slumping, while Coach Diamond did his ever best to get something done. "Come on, Richie. Richie. Waltz jumps, Richie. Waltz Jumps. Richie." Repeat this as Richie slides into the boards with a thunk and stares out at the observers as though begging someone to save him. Eventually Richie collapsed into an uncooperative slug onto the ice, while Coach Diamond was leaning down and informing him that this was coaching time. A bad day. We all have them. I'm not going to judge, honestly.

Our Coach was having a solid time, as Stitch dutifully performed all his moves as best he could. Then she got him down to the end and pulled a three-turn on the half goal circle. I've seen Three Turns, and while they look so farking easy, I simply can't figure how they're done. The physics escapes me. It must escape Stitch as well, because his "What the heck?" could be heard through the glass. Coach got his hands and got him to do it, then with one hand, but that's as far as it got. Stitch just couldn't wing that blade around fast enough. He almost got it, though. (Tomorrow is another day.)

They did this for awhile, and then she slid over to me. "I think we need to decide between Basic 5 and Basic 6. Basic 6 would be more fun for him."

Um, there's no we in this process. This is all you.

"So, he needs to practice the three turn, he did really well today." And she showed me to basic of it so I could know when Stitch was cheating it.

Then they headed back out for a last minute thing. I hit "play" and Coach let Stitch go. He bunny hopped, spun, crossed over and crossrolled. He held out his arms and danced to his own lazy waltz on one foot. I noticed some smiles from the observers.

Coach came back. "Basic 6. We'll start working on a program next week." We agreed on an hour of Practice Ice the following week when Stitch is on his long winter break, and I dreaded the notion of getting Stitch to try those damn three turns.

And with that we rushed to the last stop of the Skating Day, Beta Group Class.

Pre-Alpha could have been its own Militia. The ranks of the wobbly fully filled the boards; snowpants, weird skates and all. The fallen soldiers were taken off the ice periodically, tears and wails met with consoling parents, "Awww, baby, you don't have to if you don't want to...."

I was looking out for Shuffles. He was in a different outfit today, so I almost missed him, but when I started looking for the scooter-pushing-on-his-right-foot kid, I found him. Alpha 1, and completely unable to cross feet. I've never seen this kid look more miserable. Honestly, if I wasn't afraid she'd go all apeshit on me, I'd question Nutso's choices on keeping this kid in a skating class. (There is a big universe of youth sports out there...) The Coach ended up spending all her time with Shuffles, and the rest of the class got largely ignored.

Without my good friend Lady Cluck to talk to, I was bored and cold, but enjoying my new rank as an upper echelon skating parent in this particular class timeslot. "Oh, my kid? He's over there in Beta. And god, I am so tired, can I just rest on your lap or something?"

Precious did well, and on her way out she was sure to remark to me, "I think Beta is eeeezzzzyyy." Suddenly I'm thinking of those stupid little Beta Fighting Fish in the pet store, wondering if I held up a mirror to Precious if she'd flip out and start fighting herself. Stitch was in agony, complaining of cold feet, so I took off his skates and put his feet under my fleece. He grinned and sighed and laid back on the bench like a contented cat. The families near to us were giving us odd stares. Fuck them, we're tired.

At noon, we were done. Sort of. We got the Christmas Tree. Nothing says "Happy Holidays" like cramming a five foot Scotch Pine into the back of a Mustang Convertible. Stitch got to ride in the front seat on the way home, ducking when we saw a police car.

Truly, today was one of my better parenting days.

The Grand Experiment

This week begins my foray into serious Practice Ice. In the past, I've only bought practice ice when I've needed it for lessons and program practice. It was never on the regular schedule. As the repertoire of "tricks" grows, I've decided that it needs to be a normal thing. I'm changing up one hour of the six (on average) that Stitch spends on Public Ice for Practice Ice.

I love Public Ice, I really do. But it's stupid hard to get Stitch to practice on it. He has too many friends to race, too many Rink Guards to harass and too much interference from Baby Fallsalot. Stitch will often declare that he can't practice because there are "too many people." (I guess this is his way of stating, "I cannot work under these conditions!")

Stitch does show some degree of work ethic on Practice Ice. I set him off with the words, "This is Practice Ice. If you want to stay here, you have to Practice." I think the combination of fewer skaters, less intimidation from the girls his age knocking out doubles, no interference and the big threat of being kicked off if he doesn't do what he's supposed to makes for an actual practice session. I do my best to inform him of Rink Etiquette as I've gleaned from the 'nets; Only spin at center, go with the flow, don't linger in corners, and be super polite. And historically, it's worked.

So now I'm going to take it a step up, and make it part of the regular schedule. The Rink Across Town actually has convenient hours for PreStyle skaters, so I'll have to take the ice over there rather than at Home Rink. (Sorry, but I really don't want to get up a 4:30 if I don't have to. He's in fucking BETA. It's not that serious yet.)

I'm also going to give up The List in favor of The Egg Timer for these sessions. Egg Timers are indispensable tools for young children. If I tell Stitch, "Do ten crossovers in each direction," he will blow through them just to get done with them. If I make him spend ten minutes on them, he may actually take some time to get them right. We'll see if that theory works. I know it works for the Classroom, Homework Reading and Chores.

What if the experiment fails?

Well, I'll step it back before discontinuing completely. I'll make it every other week rather than weekly, but honestly I think there's a good chance of success on this one. I don't think I'm pushing here, because I've just casually noticed that he gets better results on Practice Ice. If I were pushing, we'd have started this long ago and I'd be skipping Public Ice entirely. That won't happen. I still want him to have his playtime.

As Coach said, "He loves the ice. He loves to skate. I don't want to lose this." Me neither, so let's just take the uptick one step at a time.

Billy Joel never sang "It's six am on a Saturday."

I'm awake, and burning a CD. Yep, I forgot, and now I pay the price by arguing with my external CD burner which is extremely fussy. I think it's working now.

In a half hour I have to get Stitch up, dressed and out the door. It's snowing out and my own car has a dead battery so I have to gakk my husband's car. Just as well, my car is rear wheel drive and drives like shit in the snow.

After lessons this morning I'm dealing with Dead Battery, finishing Pants, and then heading to Ice Show rehearsal.

Next weekend will be a tiring logistical nightmare. Due to Ice Show performances, we won't have any ice at our home rink. For Stitch to practice his new program, being choreographed today, he will have to get ice somewhere else. I can't let it go a full week without being practiced. Stitch will forget. So, between matinees and evening shows, I'll find some ice time at That Other Rink Across Town or perhaps some of the outdoor rinks available to us now. (Provided the ice is skateable, reasonably clean and free of douchebaggy skaters now common at Public Ice.)

It's going to be a long day.

Finding Ice Time

Did you know that if you write "Public Ice" often enough on your calendar, it starts to look like "Pubic Lice?"

I'm sitting and staring and debating and I'm starting to understand why some moms pull their spawn out of school to make way for skating. I get it. You look at these schedules and it's just a half hour shy of school being out. Or in. When you factor in a Coach, and her schedule, and it gets even more confusing. "I can do this day or this time, but not then. Perhaps next week? What about then?"

Pre-Freestyle Ice seems to assume that your kid doesn't go to school. Or something. It's incredibly hard to get a Pre-Freestyle kid on the main rink. The days that they are out of school are also the days that just HAPPEN to have no Practice Ice that day. I swear, it's like the school board and the rink staff had a meeting. It just seems easier to say, "Screw it, I'll just school them myself and be done with it." Except for that whole thing where I'm terrible at math and we'd be on food stamps, it seems like an elegant solution.

What's also terrible is that my weekends have been consumed by skating. I spend every Saturday and Sunday shuttling back and forth to the rink, with less than reliable results. Public ice is sketchy. Friday nights, there is no resurface at all because "The broomball people like it rough." It's gotten so bad, it's almost not worth going. Saturday afternoons are crowded with smelly Hockey people, followed closely by balls of hockey gear with little kids somewhere in them on the Public Ice. I've been warned that Sunday afternoons become a "Madhouse" in winter, with everyone and their dog suddenly wanting to participate in skating. I hate crowded ice. I don't mind populated ice, just not Crowded Ice. (I'd get my Sundays back, as well as my Saturday afternoons.)

I'm left with Practice Ice. If I do the two least expensive options, that gives me several weeks of hourlong figure skating sessions. Stitch seems to take the Practice Ice a bit more seriously, so maybe this means no more goofing off and throwing snowballs. What I've decided is to book the midweek evening session, and a sheet of coupons. This way, we have an hour of solid practice plus sheets for lessons and whatever. We'll continue to go to the public sessions that are valuable (clean ice and sparse crowds), but skip the ones that have become useless.

Morning Ice seems to have become an inevitability. I just spend my mornings drinking coffee anyway, I can do that anywhere. The challenge will be to get Stitch out of bed that one morning of the week.

I've dumped every session of Ice available to Stitch on a Calendar that I can easily access from my Stupidphone, so no more bumbling when Coach accosts me with vague references to this day or that day. And I can easily point out sessions to Dad when he's got the time to take Stitch to the rink.

I downloaded this song this morning. It made me feel better.



I'll beat this system yet, I swear!