What do you do during the frigid winter months here in the Heartland? Not a lot, I can tell you that. Cabin fever sets in around February and you either entertain yourself in new and inventive ways or start chopping up your family like Jack Torrance. The fascination of Hungry Hungry Hippos and play doh hamburgers only goes so far before everyone starts to talk to their respective hallucinations.
I’ve resorted to allowing my daughter to ride her big wheel around the house (wait – didn’t that kid in “The Shining” do that too?) and letting her drag her brother around in a sleeping bag. As for me, I have started making my coffee Irish.
However, we’ve discovered that Wednesday nights at our local roller rink is “family fun night.” That means they lowered the admission to skate as well as their standards. Throw in a clumsy little girl and that’s a recipe for fun!
This wasn’t the roller rink I used to go to as a kid, but oddly, the decor was the same. The mushroom seats – the ones that looked like they were designed by Super Mario Brothers – that you could crash into were there right in front of the crappy lockers that no one uses. I was disappointed to find that the seats weren’t covered in red shag. I guess you really can’t go home again.
I haven’t skated since the 80s and I haven’t gotten any more graceful, so I pretended that Jack would be too much of a handful for my husband and forced him out onto the death-rink with Tess. I considered renting a helmet and knee pads for her too, but decided the added weight would probably impede her skating and actually make her fall more. Besides, I never wore that stuff when I was a kid and I turned out. . . fine.
She was so excited to skate. She’d never been before and the look on her face as the other skaters glided by her was priceless. It was amazement and fear and joy all at once. Santa, the Easter Bunny and Spongebob might as well have been standing there cheering and beckoning her out to the floor. I’ve never been able to achieve that level of happiness from her in the four years I’ve known her.
When she finally stepped onto that floor and promptly landed on her hiney, I expected her to crawl back to the carpeted area and wait awhile before attempting it again. But she got up. And she fell again. She got up every time with a giant grin on her face. She wobbled and fell, wobbled and fell for one whole lap while her dad held her hand and tried to keep her from falling or taking her down with him. He never did fall; I was impressed. He was like Patrick Swayze in Skatetown, U.S.A., only without the feathered hair. Tess finally got the hang of it and she would skate by the side and wave to me and say “Hey Mama! Look at me!” I was so proud of her. She was fearless.
I was surprised to see that the other skaters were pretty tolerant. They skated around her as she struggled to stay upright and one person commented that she was adorable. That being said, the folks in the viewing area were less friendly. Most were at least 50 pounds overweight and going for 60 by cramming in as much fried food as they could before the snack bar closed. There were small children wandering about without parental supervision, slamming into each other and throwing trash around like it was confetti at a parade. The adults were almost worse; screaming and cursing and laughing it up like they were at the Roller Derby.
One little girl, who couldn’t have been more than two, followed me around for some time. I asked her where her mommy was, but she kept pointing to the inflatable bouncy thing and trying to get me to help her in it. I considered tossing her in there so she’d stop following me, but my Mommy Guilt wouldn’t let me so I stayed with her until someone claimed her. Finally, her mother came by and with all of her 17 years of wisdom, grabbed her by the hand and dragged her off while yelling that her “french fries was getting cold.”
Another little girl came up to me asked me for money for the sticker machine. Her mom screamed to her from the adjacent bench not to ask strangers for money. I wondered what her thoughts were about strangers in general – was it okay to go with one if they offered ice cream or puppies? What exactly were the boundaries there? “No” on asking for money, “yes” on accepting a ride? As long as she didn’t have to get off that bench, I’m sure she was cool with whatever her six-year old wanted. Except a quarter for stickers.
After an hour or so of skating, Tess wanted to climb in the three level ball pit. My fear of dirty indoor public playground equipment was overridden by my husband, who said he would go with her. I prepared my disinfectant wipes and watched as my little girl blissfully climbed and ran and slid down the slides with her daddy. Jack cheered her on from outside while I wondered how many wipes it would take to kill the multitude diseases that would surely find their way onto my daughter.
We finally dragged her away from the play area and explained it was past her bedtime and we’d come back another night. As we were driving home, she said, “it was kinda hard to do and I fell a lot, but it was so much fun. Can we go again tomorrow?” She was examining all the little bruises on her legs and chattering on about getting her own skates and wanting to be a skater when she grew up.
That’s when I decided I want to be like her. I want to fall on my hiney and get up with a grin on my face.





















