The youngest Schrafft, 5 year old Finn, finished up his 3rd hockey season the other day. Thatcher’s team is in the play-offs and will finish up, one way or the other, this weekend.
While there will surely end up being some summer sessions or hockey camps in their near future, for now, the early morning wake-up calls are almost over.
I used to wake up at 5:45 to rally the troops and get myself to work and the boys to their respective classrooms, but lately I’ve been pushing it to a bit after 6:00. Try as I may to convince myself to go to bed just once before 11:00 pm, I can’t seem to do so. I love my boys…but, I also cherish my quiet late night hours alone.
So, while school days are always a bit of a whirlwind with a dash of crazy thrown in, when we miraculously get through to Saturday unscathed, the weekend early morning hockey practices usually do me in.
Until recently my husband worked early Saturday morning…which left me to get both boys into their hockey gear bright and early to get to the rink for 8:00 and 9:00 practices. Actually, now on a travel team, Thatcher’s early Saturday practices have turned into earlier Sunday morning games.
While both boys are now experts on getting into their gear…they still need a fire lit under their butts to do so. It wasn’t nearly as pretty for the first few seasons, however. It was always a mad rush…they both needed help with everything….they needed snacks to eat while the other one was on the ice…and even books, matchbox cars, and a bag of tricks to use as hush money to get through back-to-back practices. It was downright ugly for quite a while. Might I mention that I am not…never have been…and never will be…a morning person.
I was laughing the other day when Thatcher reminded me about the “Hockey Dinosaur.”
There must have been many, many consecutive Saturdays, that I teetered on the edge of sanity while trying to get them out the door.
I believe my mantra became something like, “If you think I want to be up at the crack of dawn, you’re wrong, so please just get dressed” or “If you don’t want to get into your gear, and you don’t want to skate, I certainly won’t mind not getting up at the crack of dawn, boys!” or “If you think I got up at the crack of dawn yet again to beg you both to get off the couch and into your gear, you are crazy.” You get the gist. All very proud parenting moments.
So, one day, while I was no doubt stomping around like a mad woman, I heard Thatcher quietly say to Finn, “Mom sure is mad about the crackadon. I don’t even know that type of dinosaur.”
So, for a while, stomping around like a Crackadon became my way of getting them ready for everything…school, hockey, soccer, etc. Somewhere along the way, the Crackadon left us and the boys started to become a bit more self-motivated. I won’t be surprised if however, years from now, a couple of giant crackadons visit my grown-up sons and their future families. And we can all laugh about it again.
Good Morning Gloucester 
I also had two boys who played hockey on traveling teams and local teams. I remember the rush, the snacks, and the homework in the car. I remember the traffic! I can’t even remember how many minivans we went through. I remember the smell of the gear and the locker room and having hockey tape stuck to the bottom of my shoes.. The front hall of my home was gauged with black tape from the sticks and occasional pucks. Those were the days!
It was wonderful when they began getting themselves ready in the locker room. One of my kids was a goaltender, which meant even more stuff in the car. Once, in a rush to get from one game to another, we were in the car on our way, when my youngest son said, “where is Star?” Star was our dog. She had jumped out of the back of our wagon while we were loading equipment. In our hurried state we forgot her. She was waiting patiently at the rink when we went back for her, but after that she never wandered far from my side.
There were games won and games lost. Sometimes they took it well, and sometimes, not so much. Sometimes the rides home were long and often the boys would nap while I drove.
My boys are men now and live on their own. They have friends and memories from many teams and many places from many years. Now I can sleep in, and my feet are not freezing from sitting in a cold rink. From a distance my memories are fond. It is all good.
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That was fabulous. My house has been visited by the Crackadon many times without a name!!!
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How nice ~ boys do love their dinosaurs!
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Priceless!
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That Crackadon story is great, just so enjoy your stories
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