I was telling my husband the other day that we needed to fix the dents in the wall in the rec room. My frequent declarations about ‘no playing sports in the house!’ have fallen on deaf ears due in large part to any meaningful consequences on my part. The walls are cratered with dents, smudges and smears from not just indoor hockey, but indoor every-sport-imaginable-and-some-that-were-invented. And it’s not just the walls, the floor is a mess, not a single wall sconce is intact, several framed posters are cracked, and the ceiling is as scarred as the walls. His response was swift and decisive: “We’re not doing a thing to this house until they all move out.” Sigh. But I see his point.
Once in a while I see a really amazingly hockey-themed home theatre room on Pinterest that I would just love to show off to my hockey friends at a team hockey party. Rooms like that exist only in my dreams right now. Our rec room resembles what that room would look like after a hockey team party. Last Sunday evening, I walked through the downstairs and absentmindedly tidied up a few things. And by “tidied up” I mean I gathered them all into one corner so the floor was partially visible. I collected hockey sticks, ball hockey sticks, golf clubs, lacrosse sticks, tennis balls, golf balls, footballs, soccer balls, baseballs, and a yoga mat that clearly looked like it took a wrong turn at Albuquerque. To the teenager sitting in front of the Xbox I mentioned, “I shouldn’t have to remind you that none of these are indoor sports, and yet, I find myself doing just that!”
As our kids get older, we talk more and more of downsizing our house but I have come to the conclusion that it will take us years to prepare not ourselves but our house for this stage in life. There is no way we can sell it without a major overhaul or without Buyer Beware in bold right under the For Sale sign.
It’s not just the rec room. There are hockey bag skid marks on the laundry room floor and along its walls, and there are dozens of little hockey trophies and medals decorating every room of the house. Hockey tape has been used to temporarily fix several faucets and attach the kids’ favourite hockey posters to walls. I can’t vacuum under a single bed in this house without sucking up a few hockey cards and a couple of those little hockey pins that teams trade before tournament games (Lego be damned!). There are old practice jerseys hanging from the rafters in the basement and broken equipment drying racks serving their retirement in the workout room and there are enough decapitated bobbleheads to cast yet another Chuckie horror movie. I’ve not summoned the courage to look through the kids’ dressers yet.
And we haven’t even touched upon the garage or backyard! They too, bare the brun, I mean, hallmark of a few pretty impressive hockey careers. Is there any wonder we seldom entertain anyone who is not a hockey family?
Yet I know that the day will come soon enough, when the minor hockey years are over and I’ll wonder what happened to all those hockey sticks. Until then, I’ll just dream my Pinterest dreams!
Three cheers for our happy hockey house – may it remain standing for at least a few more seasons!
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