Thoughts of a Skating Mom

When the man hung the medal around my son's neck,
I thought, "What we need here's a reality check."
Yes, he worked his buns off, and so did the others,
But surely there should be a medal for mothers
(or fathers and grandparents, uncles and aunts)
that stick to cold benches by the seats of their pants!

The coffee machine at the rink eats my dimes,
I've driven to practice one hundred twelve times,
Played music for solos, baked muffins for test day,
And juggled the coaching bill out of the month's pay.
My friends shake their heads at the hours we keep
When eveyone else in their right mind's asleep.

Why, I've learned what a lutz is, I can talk all the lingo-
I can tell the Canasta from the Dutch or the Swing, Oh
the things that a skating mom does without pay,
Like freezing her feet for two hours a day,
There's costumes with three hundred sequins to sew,
And selling the tickets when they put on a show.

My poor back is aching from hauling his stuff,
"Mom, we need more ice time"
How much is enough?!
But when he comes off the ice with a smile on his face
And says, "I did my best, I don't care how I placed,"
I know in his heart life's best lessons are stored
And truly that's all a mom needs for reward.

Tricia Ris

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