ice ice baby

Don’t call me Shirley!

by mayberry on February 16, 2012

One of my favorite pictures from recent ice skating adventures (this is the “Good Ship Lollipop” costume). (Yes, really. “Good Ship Lollipop.”) Jo was disappointed to have to do another year on the beginner level synchro team, but it has worked out for the best. She gets to be a leader among the other girls on the team, and the commitments for practices and competitions–not to mention costs!–are lower. She still has the time and the passion to pursue individual skating goals, and she wants to keep skating synchro next year too.

Although I confess we both hope she’ll jump up a notch to the next level–and leave Shirley Temple behind for good.

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Hey Mrs. DJ

by mayberry on October 26, 2011

As Jo gets more serious about skating, I add new skills too. First it was the hair styling (actual email received a few weeks ago: “Please do not cut your skater’s hair until competition season is over. Bangs are especially hard to work with!”) and the fact that “if you’re not puking, you’re skating.” Then it was understanding how to buy ice time, via a contract with the figure skating club. For the record, my best bet was to buy 26 hours of time at once, calculated on a per-minute basis.

Most recently, I took a lesson how to be a music monitor during said ice time. Someone asked me “Is that like a DJ?” and I said yes, only without the turntables and those giant headphones. And also, cold. Basically, you sit in one of those boxes next to the ice and put CDs into the player. On the ice, 15 or so girls are either practicing individually or working one-on-one with a coach. They line up their CDs of program music and the monitor plays them, in order. Except sometimes, a coach comes in with a “pro call” and bumps to the front of the line. (There is a list of about 20 rules for music playing, so you can understand why I was totally nervous the first time). And then some other times, whichever skater whose turn it is doesn’t want their music after all. So between each CD, the monitor has to stick her head out of the box and bellow, “JULIA!” or “MADDIE!” or “KATIE!” once or ten times until the girl says Yes, please play my CD, or No, not now, thanks.

Related: Why is it kind of intimidating dealing with teenage girls? They are perfectly nice, but I did not like that bellowing part of the job.

Also related: Proper attire is essential for music monitors. This means fingerless gloves, and also apparently eyeglasses so you can realize that there are not one, but TWO space heaters in your little box, in case you would like to maybe turn them on?

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Whole new world

by mayberry on January 10, 2011

Jo had her first skating competition on Saturday. Unfortunately, on Friday morning she woke up with a sore throat. She hates taking medicine of any kind (I blame the appendix). She muscled through school until noon dismissal and then an afternoon skating practice and collapsed into bed.

Saturday morning, she was feverish and felt even worse. I called her coach and said that she couldn’t come to the competition, even though she really wanted to. She choked down some Tylenol but refused to eat anything because it hurt too much to swallow. Then her coach called back and said “Is she puking? Because if she’s not, I really, really need her to come.” Instead of having to be at the rink from 9:30 a.m. to 6:30 p.m., she could show up shortly before her team’s performance, and leave immediately after.

So I yanked that poor kid’s hair into a bun and wrapped her in a blanket and took her to the rink, where we stepped into a parallel universe. One where girls wear track suits and tons of makeup, and mothers sew fake hair onto their girls’ heads. (I mean they really had needles and thread. Does anyone know what I’m talking about? The end result looked so messy and ugly, too. They had their real hair pulled into buns and then all these extensions sticking out randomly from the bun.)

When my poor sick little kid took the ice it was all I could do not to cry. She not only got through the program, she remembered all the little details, like hand movements and facial expressions.

(No pictures because in the chaos, I forgot the camera.)

And her team came in fifth.

Oh well! We get to do it all again next month. At least at that event, Jeff and I don’t have to put in two hours of rink setup and three hours of traffic control (him) and five hours of selling hot dogs at the concession stand (me). We get to be the visiting team. Wish us health and luck.

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It’s a donut AND a bun

by mayberry on November 29, 2010

Yesterday was Jo’s first performance with her skating team (I also wrote about this, briefly, over at the fitness site). Since she hasn’t taken dance since she was about three, I was/am totally unfamiliar with everything that goes into primping for this kind of performance.

Luckily I received a helpful email reminding me to buy/bring (and I quote):

  • Brush
  • Ponytail holders (5-6)
  • Hairnets
  • Hair gel
  • Hair spray
  • Hair clips the color of your child’s hair…bobby pins are not allowed

This scared me, a little. I also exchanged multiple phone calls and texts with another parent as we both tried to source the right kind and color of hairnets. We showed up yesterday with our little cosmetics bag full of this stuff and I wrestled my kid’s hair into a lame, sad-looking bun on the back of her head. Wrong, wrong, wrong! Then I got schooled in how to do it right (Maggie is going to love this…)

1. Glop up your child’s hair with a whole bunch of gel.

2. Brush the gel through her hair to create a very sleek, very smooth, very very high ponytail; secure with a hair elastic.

3. Thread the pony through a hair donut (it looks exactly like a mesh dish scrubber, in the shape of a doughnut).

4. Fan the hair from the pony over the donut to cover it. Spray the hell out of it with hair spray.

5. Place a hairnet (same color as the child’s hair! Please!) over the bun. Secure that with another elastic. The ends of the pony will still be sticking out all over in an alarming way.

6. Wrap those ends around the bun, tucking them in as you go.

7. Now put a (color-coordinated, natch) scrunchie around the bottom of the bun.

8. Spray it again. Also again. And a few more times for good measure.

Done! So easy!

That, plus makeup application and last-minute costume decisions, took only about 90 minutes of pre-show time. No wonder we had to show up three hours early! In the end, though, they looked totally cute and did a lovely job with their routine (in spite of Jo’s gasp of “We’re not ready!!” just a few days before, and the fact that a new girl joined the team on…Friday. For a Sunday show).

Next stop, a real competition with over eighty other teams. Eighty!

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Sk8er gurl

by mayberry on September 28, 2010

This is the year that Jo gets serious about figure skating. While she isn’t at the point of taking tests and having to schedule ice time for 5 a.m., she has come a long way from rental skates, sweatpants, and a bike helmet. Now she is all about the tights and the fancy light-up blade guards, and the begging for a fancy skate bag like the other girls have (to the tune of $200+, ZOMG).

She has a semi-private (because only two kids signed up!) lesson once a week and team practice once a week, and will participate in several competitions and ice shows this season. Despite my initial reservations (some of which turned out to be unfounded), we have a good little routine going for the early Saturday practices. I find it easier to get to bed early on Friday nights since pressing work tasks can always be put off a bit on the weekend. So we two get up early together and hit the road. On the way, we listen to Jo’s Suzuki cello CD. During practice, I catch up on email, Twitter, and Facebook plus a magazine or two. After practice, we hit Starbucks for a mother-daughter breakfast. On the way home, we listen to Harry Potter on audiobook. We’re back by 10:30 a.m. with most of our Saturday still free.

While I am ever on my guard lest I become a wacko stage mother, it’s exciting to see her making progress and enjoying a sport. That didn’t happen for me until I hit my late 20s! I don’t know if she’ll stick with the team or even the sport past this year, but for now I’m enjoying the ride with her.

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Pay now or pay later

by mayberry on August 27, 2010

This summer my kid tried out a new sport (at an informal, walk-on type of camp) and liked it. We were told the beginning team was less of a financial commitment than the more elite teams, and no try-outs were required. The team would practice in a town close to us; the camp was about a 45-minute drive away.

Email from me to coach: My child enjoyed the camp and wants to join the team. Could you give me the contact info for the parent rep so I can make the arrangements?

Email from coach to me, several hours later: That’s great! Please call me at …

Me (thinking): sigh … I have to pick up the phone?

The next day, dial.  Exchange pleasantries.

Coach: OK, I’ll email you back with the parent rep’s email address!

Me (thinking): You’ve got to be kidding me.

I dutifully email the parent rep.

Me: My child enjoyed the camp and wants to join the team. Could you send me the paperwork (my address is below) and let me know where to send my payment?

Parent rep reply: That’s great! Please call me at …

Me: *headdesk*

When I called the parent rep, I learned that the team doesn’t have enough players to be eligible for competitions. BUT, I can enroll the kid in a “class” which would:

  • cost the same
  • meet in the faraway venue at 8 a.m. on Saturday mornings
  • require us to join a club, which in turn would require paying dues and performing mandatory “volunteer” hours
  • allow the kid to learn some of the skills of the sport or risk “falling more and more behind” (seriously, she said it)

My husband thinks this is a no-brainer. No team. Enroll in a local, group lesson in a similar sport instead, saving money and sparing a good deal of inconvenience. Next spring, let the kid try out for the team and hope for the best. I’m inclined to agree, since the squeeze I got from the parent rep was uncomfortable (not to mention the air of bait-and-switch around this entire experience; e.g., the summer camp was originally billed as free, and then suddenly turned out to cost $10/hour).

But the kid really likes the sport, and I get the sense that holding your nose and dealing with this kind of stuff is common in youth sports. We could postpone the hysteria, but only temporarily (and would they penalize the child later for the parent’s crime of not enrolling earlier?). I am torn.

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