Photo credit: City of Vancouver Archives

Photo credit: City of Vancouver Archives

It’s 8:00AM on a Sunday morning. I am longing to quietly linger over my freshly poured hot cup of coffee, but it is simply not to be. It is hockey team picture day and I am in the midst of unsuccessfully coaxing my sixteen-year old daughter out of bed. The person – let’s call him The Conjuror – who scheduled photos for a Midget girls team at 8:45AM on a Sunday, sandwiched between a Novice team and an Atom team, truly has a sick sense of humour. Any email attempts at rescheduling our team’s time slot have been met with a cheery “LOL!”, so I guess there is no delaying this:  hot coffee or not, we have to be on the road in fifteen minutes.

If there is a hockey mom out there who has survived team picture day without loss of temper, dignity, or blood, you are my hero and I salute you. Please know that after sixteen years as a hockey mom I am still working on my picture day game plan, but bribery is still my go-to champion. Promises of Fruit Loops and Slushies, however, have given away to shopping excursions and free beer but please don’t judge me.

“Let’s go! Dad and I have to be in the picture too, you know!” I shout up the stairs. It’s true too; as bench coach and manager, he and I will be in the picture with her but I’m not sure if this helps or hurts the –getting-out-of-bed process. From her bedroom comes an incomprehensible human response followed by a loud thud which we will all just interpret to mean “I’ll be right down.”

My husband has generously brought in her hockey equipment from the garage which, thanks to a very mild November, does not require thawing. As all hockey moms know, there is not even enough room to change a shoe in the team picture room let alone a hockey player so you must arrive at team pictures fully dressed in your hockey gear. Lord have mercy.

Despite the conversation between my daughter and I during this process, with me speaking in English, and her speaking in a mysterious uncharted language, she is dressed and ready to go in record time. This will cost me a trip to Sephora for sure.

Arriving at the arena community room allocated for our association’s team picture day, I take one look at the photographer and any amount of sympathy I had for my daughter and her teammates, is immediately transferred to this beleaguered soul who obviously needs something stronger than a hot cup of hot coffee. As he struggled moments before to get the Novice team to just stand still for two seconds he now wrestles with getting this Midget team to even move an inch.

Then, in three weeks, I will receive my order for these team pictures; I will marvel at her smile and forget the chaos it belies.

And how did your picture day go, hockey moms?

Three cheers for team picture day – and for the wizard that is the team photographer!

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About Astra
Ottawa mom of 3 poking fun at myself, motherhood, and minor hockey! I am steering through life dodging stinky hockey gear and empty wine bottles.
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