Skate Down Memory Lane

It's May (for 60 more minutes as I start writing this post). Everything is winding down: school, swim lessons, and hockey. All of which has made me nostalgic. I put Mikie to bed at night, and he tells me he will read me an "Elephant & Piggie" story by himself. Granted, school is still far from his favorite pastime, but he has come a long way in the last nine months.

Naturally, while compiling the video of Mikie's last hockey practice, I couldn't help but think back about the first time Mike and Mikie played street hockey in our driveway, the first time Mikie put on skates (age 2 1/2), his first skating lessons where we had to bribe him to stand up and NOT eat ice shavings off the ice, his first hockey clinic. . .So, as a juxtaposition, I found the video of Mikie's first hockey clinic from 2009 (right after Hannah was born). Keep in mind, I increased the speed to make it more palatable to watch.

Next up in the cue: the video of Mikie's first hockey class from 2010. I remember thinking the coaches were insane, expecting the kids to dive across the ice, and jump back up. Again, the footage was accelerated.

Lastly, April 2011. The last practice of this season. Real time (NOT accelerated). He still has a way to go before he can play for the Bruins (on a good day), but he can skate circles around me. Especially when skating backwards, because I can't skate backwards.If I get this nostalgic at the end of each hockey season, I better invest in P&G stock now for all the Puffs I'll need for high school graduation.

Love, The Trahans

Fiery Temper Follow-Up

I wrote the last post back in the middle of April, but it took me one month to find time to edit the one (yes, one) picture in the blog.

In the interim, Mike has witnessed the wrath of Hannah that previously only Mikie could understand. Not that Hannah never got upset in front of Mike, he just never witnessed the combination of foot stomping, scowling, yell at the top of her lungs side of Hannah that had become routine behaviour for Mikie and I.

I will admit, the video is somewhat coerced. In reality, Hannah wanted to "snuggle your bed" (translation: watch movies with dad on the TV in the master bedroom). Mike agreed, only if they could watch the Celtics game. Hannah let Mike know in no uncertain terms that the Celtics game was not part of her agenda. He was surprised to the point of laughter, while I ran off for the camcorder thinking, "AH HAH! He FINALLY sees it! I'm NOT CRAZY!" Of course, the minute Hannah saw me with a camera, she dialed down the attitude (not wanting others to see her true colors). So, Mike and I may have been taunting her in an effort to capture her antics for all of posterity.

Further evidence of Hannah's abuse to those she loves. . . back-up daycare. I went out of town last week for a three day long business trip, during which time, Hannah attended "back-up daycare". Raytheon subsidizes a back-up daycare program for it's employees through a local chain, Bright Horizons. For a very reasonable rate, you can sign your child up for the day (or three in our case) when your primary childcare is not available. In our case, primary childcare is still available, it's transportation (aka mom the resident chauffeur) that is unavailable.

Either way, we received a lovely, laminated book with color photos documenting Hannah's time at "back-up daycare". In it, the teacher wrote:

"Hannah had no problem coming to play with us this week, it is like she has been here all along. She is such an outgoing, adorable little girl! I'm glad we had the chance to meet her!"

Paints a totally different picture than the bossy, grouchy kid seen at daycare on a regular basis! The bossy kid who, when I picked her up from daycare about a week before I left town, had bitten not one but TWO other other kids that day because they took the toy she wanted. And, what did my little firecracker do while I was signing the two incident reports? She pushed a kid off the stairs. I'm sure that kid wasn't "glad" to have met her. . .

And here I thought having a girl would be easier. . .

Love, The Trahans