INTERNAL DEBATE
Why I’d Rather be a Dance Mom, Than a Hockey Mom
It’s mostly about the coffee
When it was dance competition season at our house the false eyelashes were flying; the glitter and feathers were all over the place. A mother’s nightmare! We all remember the glitter disaster of 2007, am I right?!
But I was a Dance Mom. Proud of it, actually.
I had the unfortunate opportunity to also be a hockey mom (small h and m because that is how I felt about it). I thought a comparison might be in order for those families currently deciding which activity to enroll their little cherubs in. Both our daughter and son were dancers so it doesn’t have to be just for girls.
My wonderfully coordinated children also both skate like salmon so the hockey experiment was only three years of torture for my son until the day he proudly declared “I am giving up hockey!”
I went with a tentative “Are you sure? Once we say no it is hard to go back into the program.”
I will admit I was crossing my fingers at the time.
He indicated that he was sure and I did a happy dance. Nobody ever does a happy hockey. That’s really the only point I need to make, but I’ll make more to seal the deal.
Dance Moms (DM): Warm Venues!
Hockey Moms (HM): Cold as Ice!
DM: Fun music throughout the day.
HM: We Are The Champions and the National Anthem.
DM: 12 days a year parental commitment over 4 weekends. Bonus: You are not welcome to watch practices.
HM: Every fucking weekend until you get bench sores. Sit your ass down for those hockey drills. I hope your phone is charged.
DM: We can purchase pens that have a highlighter on one end and a pen on the other. How cool is that?
HM: You have a choice between watered-down hot chocolate or crappy coffee.
DM: No weapons are used in the performance of dances.
HM: Hockey sticks look awfully similar to jousts, battering rams, bats, or spears.
DM: We get to yell nice things like ‘work it’ or a big ‘oh yeah’, followed by a roaring round of applause for all performances.
HM: You are often yelling about things that have not been done by either the referee or a child. Shame on you for your negativity! What example are you setting?
DM: We can take breaks. Our kid is on stage for only 3 minutes at a time. Plenty of time to sit and chat with friends in between numbers.
HM: You are stuck. If you have to pee. HA! You might miss your peaches scoring a goal, getting a penalty or God forbid, a concussion.
DM: Mostly ribbons are given out and the studios keep the trophies. There is no need for a trophy shelf!
HM: Trophies for showing up. Trophies for getting your equipment on. Trophies for not fucking swearing. You get the picture.
DM: No need to volunteer to coach. We know nothing and we like it that way!
HM: Have fun dodging the hockey mom who is trying to get her husband to stop coaching. It sounds exhausting.
DM: We pay once and never speak of money again.
HM: You have a seemingly continuous fundraising requirement through raffle tickets, chocolate-covered almonds, or anything else your office friends feel obliged to say yes to. I have enough cellophane to wrap Air Force 1 seventeen times.
DM: Everybody else is watching their own kid and doesn’t notice when yours does something wrong.
HM: If your kid hogged the puck, missed a goal, or received an ill-timed penalty, the Team Moms are stink-eying you immediately. Maybe even shunning you if it cost the team the game. It’s not much of a loss, but still upsetting.
DM: Theatre seats with cushions.
HM: Your own butt is your only cushion.
DM: Any equipment (leotards, tights) are machine washable and fresh as a daisy at the drop of some Tide.
HM: The stench of hockey equipment has been known to permeate concrete and steel. Bet your garage is fun to go into.
DM: None of us believe that we are raising the next Karen Kain (famous Canadian ballerina before you have to look it up).
HM: It must be hard to have to compete with the continuous pressure to spew how well your progeny is progressing towards his pre-eminent NHL career.
DM: We can see our child’s face.
HM: You have to refer to your child as a number. So impersonal.
DM: No projectiles are aimed at your baby.
HM: Everyone takes a turn in net when they are little. Hard objects are then hurled at him/her and the only way to stop them is to get in front of them — WITH THEIR BODIES.
DM: Often the venues have a bar.
HM: The Bailey’s in your pocket just makes you look desperate.
I can think of only one ‘con’ for Dance Moms. The girls end up looking like hussies with their over-exaggerated makeup and not-quite-big-enough costumes. That is one I can easily get over because they only wear it four/sometimes five times and I don’t have to help my daughter into it. I am happily chatting with my friends over a latte from a real coffee shop — not a canteen.
I think that evens things out.
Before you say it, both types of moms can be bat-shit crazy so I took that off the table. Just so you know it was considered.
This is a purely subjective selection of points to fully support my argument. If you have additional points FOR hockey you can leave them in the comments so I may laugh. If you want to support my argument, add a comment and I will send you a highlighter pen.*
*Not gonna happen. I love those pens and would never give them away!
Why you should never take parenting advice from a satirist listed as a Top Writer in Parenting.
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