My husband and I are having a minor disagreement about noisemakers. No, I don’t mean our children, although we do disagree about them plenty. We are talking about my hockey fan noisemakers. Now, for most people, noisemakers probably evoke the image of kazoo-like tooter that is synonymous with New Year’s Eve music making. Or for others, it probably brings back memories of the constant drone of the vuvuzela in the background of the FIFA World Cup Soccer Championships from South Africa in 2010.
Noisemakers are shakers, and I use them shamelessly at my kids’ hockey games. They’re nothing special, just old empty water or Gatorade bottles semi-filled with coffee beans that make a great shaker noise reminding me of musical shakers from the percussion family of instruments. My dear husband thinks differently. He thinks they’re embarrassing and obnoxious. “Isn’t it enough that you wear your lucky earrings and team scarf?” he asks. Nope, I don’t think so. Personally, I think he should consider himself lucky that I’m not the foam finger-sporting kind, or one that paints my face red, white and black. But I do like my noisemakers. They are tension relievers for this stressed out goalie mom. The noise that comes from my noisemaker drowns out the noise in my head steeped in sheer panic.
Anyway, he took my daughter to her first tournament game last weekend. He hemmed and hawed about packing the noisemakers. Pretended he didn’t have room or something like that. Seriously, like I would fall for that.
So now word has got out that I am not going to the Lysander Hockey Association Thanksgiving Tournament in Syracuse. He will be going instead and taking my middle son, while I manage the hockey home front. As most of you could have predicted, some of the other moms asked me to make sure the noisemakers were packed. You see, I made 24 of them to ensure there were enough to go around. Don’t want anyone feeling left out, after all. Anyway, that’s enough for 12 moms to have 2 each, because the hockey dads seem a little reluctant to shake theirselves.
So, once again, I remind him to not forget the noisemakers and he once again he is balking. This time, not about the lack of room (it’s true: a quick stop at the duty-free will seriously cut back on the free space in his car!). No, this time he thinks they’re going to get confiscated by the border officials. My coffee bean-filled water bottles. Can you not just picture it?
Border official: Passports, please. Where you folks from?
Border official: Where are you headed?
DH: A hockey tournament in Syracuse (it will be tough for the border official to dispute this, given the mound of goalie equipment in the back of the Jeep, in case the stench doesn’t tip him off first).
Border official: Any alcohol or tobacco on board?
DH: No sir (boldface lie, but I don’t blame him for leaving this part a little on the vague side).
Border official: What’s in that black bag?
DH: Why, they’re noisemakers, sir…(we Canadians are so polite, after all)
Border official: Noisemakers?! Did you say noisemakers?! Are you not aware that they are a contravention of Homeland Security’s US Container Security Initiative, Section 403, clause 4, subclause (a) strictly prohibiting noisemakers from Canada entering US soil???! I’m afraid I’m going to have to confiscate them right now!
DH: Why no sir! I didn’t know. So sorry, sir! Here. Take them …
I’m pretty sure that’s how DH thinks it will unfold. To spare himself and my son this border crossing humiliation and blatant act of terrorsim, the noisemakers might end up being left on Canadian soil. So. If your US Thanksgiving travels take you across the border for whatever reason and you are welcomed into Canada or back into with a chorus of border officials singing, In the Jungle, shaking MY noisemakers, you’ll know why…
I gotta get those noisemakers to Syracuse!
I’m shakin’ it while I still got somethin’ to shake!