He Shoot! He Score! He Lose Anyway!

Watched the six year old play his last hockey game of the year. (Apparently I wasn’t dressed to code. My jeans weren’t tight enough, the shoes lacked heels and pointy toes. I wasn’t wearing a cute tight sweater under a puffy vest and my makeup was insufficient in that it did not create an entirely different face nor was my hair lifted into a gravity defying hold. I have failed the hot hockey mom dress code. On the other hand I wasn’t wearing my running shoes, tight jeans or an extra large men’s hockey jacket, I have all my teeth and I wasn’t standing around blowing second-hand smoke in the kids faces as they arrived for the playoffs. I guess I also failed the not-so-hot hockey moms dress code.)

They lost, but the six year old got a goal.

“I am his mother!! Me! I know he doesn’t look like me but I gave birth to him! The goal scorer!” I yelled to all, blushing.

Then they had a smelly ceremony with all four teams of smelly five year olds in one hot community room. Did I mention the SMELL?

The six year old got a medal. For sportsmanship.

“I am his mother!! Me! I know he doesn’t look like me but I gave birth to him! The medal winner! My son!” I cried to all who would listen.

So. Proud.

“Bye suckas!” I said to the not-so-hot hockey moms as I danced out the doors. “Smell ya’ later!” I yelled back at the kids.

What are they gonna’ do? BAN ME?!?!?!

Bring it.