I'm hangin' it up. This ole sweatshirt 'o mine. Being that the Iceman is technically a man now...he doesn't need his mom following him to games wearing a hoodie like this. NOT cool....I get it. But I have loved this sweatshirt. For years, it kept me warm on the coldest mornings at the rink. On days when I feel a little outa sorts, it's a comfort on my back. But, pulling this favorite warm and wooly sweatshirt over my curly locks and walking out into the crisp autumn air today brings on a new world of meaning for the world at large to comment on...and I'm not havin' it. No lipstick, no high heels, no pit bull, no boxing gloves....nope, that's not me. This is not a political rant, I assure you. I just don't want the attention...from anyone waving flags for either party. I'm still, and always will be, a hockey mom, but I don't need a media-driven catch-phrase label on top of my heart to prove it. So, it's gonna go hang on a safe hook right beside my cuddly threadbare bathrobe that nobody else sees, ready when I need it, inside my own small world... where hockey mom simply means hockey mom. Think when I leave the house today I'm gonna be wearing my new lady Carhartt vest instead...and no one will ever look twice at that label 'round here.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Sign 'o the Times....
I'm hangin' it up. This ole sweatshirt 'o mine. Being that the Iceman is technically a man now...he doesn't need his mom following him to games wearing a hoodie like this. NOT cool....I get it. But I have loved this sweatshirt. For years, it kept me warm on the coldest mornings at the rink. On days when I feel a little outa sorts, it's a comfort on my back. But, pulling this favorite warm and wooly sweatshirt over my curly locks and walking out into the crisp autumn air today brings on a new world of meaning for the world at large to comment on...and I'm not havin' it. No lipstick, no high heels, no pit bull, no boxing gloves....nope, that's not me. This is not a political rant, I assure you. I just don't want the attention...from anyone waving flags for either party. I'm still, and always will be, a hockey mom, but I don't need a media-driven catch-phrase label on top of my heart to prove it. So, it's gonna go hang on a safe hook right beside my cuddly threadbare bathrobe that nobody else sees, ready when I need it, inside my own small world... where hockey mom simply means hockey mom. Think when I leave the house today I'm gonna be wearing my new lady Carhartt vest instead...and no one will ever look twice at that label 'round here.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
LinkWithin
2 comments:
I get it Sue. Be thankful you aren't "Joe the Plumber" today, either. Poor guy.
I'd for sure save it for comfort times... I have a few sweatshirts like that, they're probably going on 20 years old by now... gotta have 'em!
YeeeHaw! Rock it out hockey mom! I love that sweet momPOWAH sweat shirt...can't get the dang pic of your spiffy vest to load hon! I hear ya ...silence can be golden. Golden like that calendula plant you grow. :)
I kinda started down that yonder politic-'in path you talked about like the dang wildeyed-aries warriorwoman...that October lovely libra moonth of "hey just a minute bustillo, what's up with all that anger? simmer down and get your knickers out of a knot." Go back to neutrality on the blog. I did..it feels much better. Your new hockey vest no doubt is fabulous! ( I still like the hockey ma sweatshirt too!)
Hon your blog is a breath of fresh air. Really.
Post a Comment