Not killing someone else’s kids ~ Northernmum

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It was never going to be easy, I knew this from the moment I agreed to the task, but I didn’t even come close to imagining how hard it would really be.

Last night, when it was all over I fell back into my old, comfy white arm chair that is marked with biro and brought the cool glass of Pinot up to my lips and silently clapped myself on the back, content in the knowledge that I had survived and had not been guilty of killing someone else’s kids.

I must confess when I agreed to go ahead I was not in full possession of the facts, the children caught me on a weak day and they begged and pleaded until eventually I snapped, grabbed my mobile and dialled the number…

“Hullo,” I stammered, “is that the Ice Rink?  Can I book a children’s party? Oh I can, any time?  Yes? umm for fourteen children, between ages 5 and 7, and no, I doubt most of them will have skated before.”

And that was that, I reeled off a twelve digit number and pledged a donation that could have taken me to a stunning spa for the weekend and the date was set, in order to celebrate turning seven the twins were taking me plus twelve skating.

Naively I thought it would be ok, and I cheerily told he who helped create them that evening what I had done.  He looked at me with an expression of bemusement and abject horror, “you are insane,” he declared whilst grabbing a beer from the fridge.  I explained that it would be ok, he could take seven and I could take seven and he fixed me with a stare from his blue eyes,

“I can’t skate woman! I am a bloke.”

I spent my Fridays nights pre drinking age on an Ice Rink, mainly skating after younger versions of blokes; I presumed my other half had a similar upbringing.

You know what they say when your presume something….

Quickly I dialled the number back and explained I needed help and the kind receptionist told me if I gave her the magic twelve digit number again she could give me an instructor for half of the lesson and then I was on my own.  I handed over an amount similiar to the cost of a weekend in Prague and I secured the services of a young man for thirty whole minutes.

This was a month ago, since then I have dreaded the sound of blade cutting ice, dreamt about kids with severed fingers and consumed much gin in order to forget.  Yet still the day arrived and I found myself barking at excited children rushing up and down a line fastening skate laces whilst trying to keep calm.

“Boots down, DOWN, on the floor, do not see if they can remove your arm, the blades are sharp SHARP child, put the bloody boot down.”

I regretted not bringing a hip flask immediately.

We hit the ice, me, fourteen kids under seven, and four fantastic parents who decided to stay and protect their offspring.  The instructor joined us and muttered under his breath, “any first timers?” I muttered back, “ten.”  “Expect tears,” he said matter of fact and then skated away, skidding to a halt in front of the children who all looked dangerously wobbly on ice.

Two minutes into the lesson and the first child hit the ice like a brick being tossed from a carpark roof.  The first of many sobs echoed across the rink and an angry lump rose on his brow.  Swearing I swished across the ice to him offering words of comfort and promising ice packs and chocolate.  Two minutes later he was away, grinning with his friends wearing his welt like a medal.

It was carnage.

Some wobbled, some walked, some took the kamikaze approach, I don’t think there was any one moment when they were all standing upright together.

But they loved it.  It seemed to cause them all anguish and pain but yet they smiled through as myself and the other grownups skating round picking them up and on occasion he who helped create them administered water and sympathy from the side.

We all survived.

We all made it home with only one blister, one lumpy eyebrow and one missing sock.

That wine tasted like little drops of heaven, there is no better feeling than not killing someone else’s kids!

31 thoughts on “Not killing someone else’s kids ~ Northernmum”

  7. Hello from a fellow northerner, your post made me hoot, well done you, a braver woman than me, I get a bit iffy if friends ask me to have their child for an afternoon, let alone a whole troupe!

  9. My goodness! You are brave! I can’t skate so this is something I could never arrange for my daughter (luckily). Could you imagine me trying to rescue children? I would be the one that would injure them!

  12. Ice skating? Don’t talk to me about ice skating! I spent much of my youth on frozen lakes & rinks in NZ & could go quite fast. Then I skate here I fell trying to avoid a child who fell right in front of me. I’m pretty sure that’s where I fractured my collar-bone & ruptured the tendon. I couldn’t have the op before I was needed to look after our newborn twins ‘cos the NHS were being ****holes, & now it’s probably inoperable.

    Ice skating!

    Thanks for letting me have a moan, & I’m glad your skating went well!

  13. “Like a brick tossed from a carpark roof” what a description! I know exactly what you mean, the fact that you survived without a red ice incident is an achievement worthy of a blue peter badge at least.

  15. For the first time in my life I am sooo glad that I can’t skate. I tried to learn as a youngster and then again as a teenager but I couldn’t stand up off the ice let alone on it. ( I should have known that my youthful dreams of being the next Torvill would amount to nothing, considering the amount of accidents I had trying to stay upright on my legs when on firm land, but what can I say, I was young!)
    The thought of taking ten newbies skating is terrifying!!
    We once had a party where a child’s parents had to be called because he had a suspected broken nose, another wild one turned out to be a fire-starter and the bowl of home-made punch took on the sudden appearance of pee.
    And that was at home!
    Since then my son’s been rationed to a max of two friends here at any one time.

  16. Haahaaaa the Kamikaze approach made me laugh a lot. I am imagining a whole battered and bruised bunch going home to their mums. After my ice skating experience I went home with numerous red bumps all over my legs and arms and almost cut like marks where the the tops of the very uncomfy boots kept digging into my legs.

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