Roll, Skate, Bounce and Bounce and Bounce

I read the email twice. My oldest was invited to a rollerskating event. My heart raced. As the hour approached, I licked my lips with anticipation. I think I was more excited than she was. She's not a teenager yet, still un-sure of her rollability.
But me, I knew about mine. She didn't understand why I was going crazy looking through the closets for my skates. I found them and she screwed up her face. At the everything must be pink age, black skates were disgusting.
I broke it down for her.
The skates that I'd artfully slung over my shoulder where not just black skates.
They were custom-built-for-my-feet-all-leather-Reidel-with-all-American-dream
-wheels,jump-bars-and-dance-plug
skates.
"You don't understand," I told her. "Mommy was baaaaad! Not just bad, Poetry in motion."
"What's that mean?" she asked.
I sighed and shook my head. How to explain to a single digit child that I wasn't talking about back when I was a kid? I was referring to my skating prowess post college, the days when I would skate until the wee hours of the morning and then drag myself to my Wall Street job with one eye open, only to sleep one night and do it again. I was talking about the days when you had to be 21 to even get in, be it at Empire in Brooklyn or the Place on Long Island on Sunday Nights.
Mommy was he only women skating with the men but with more finesse, flying through the air, floating through the---I digress. I tried to call the wild look in my eye.
I just told her, "Girl, You remember, Roll, Bounce?"
She blinked. "Well, sweetie, that was about me!"
The excitement was lost on her as the two of us plus my littler one piled into the car.
I tried to be cool when we arrived. I was the only parent with their own skates, aand you know my girls ribbed me.
I stayed calm about it though. I slipped my babies on and assisted my kids to their feet.
At first, I helped them. Went slow. Held their hands.
And then an eighties jam came on.
I planted them on a wall, told them how to hold, on and I lost my mind. I took off. I couldn't help it. My feet did it by themselves.
I was shaky at first, you know, it has been a minute. And then I found my groove.
I went backwards. And forwards.
I spun.
I whirled. I wasn't the only one. There were a few other parents out there too.
I tried to be cool, but damn I was out of breath.
This was a different work out than my treadmill, but I kept it all together. I was smooth, trying my best not to look like the mother I kept whizzing past.
She was bent over in the most peculiar way as she rolled, her arms whirling about in a way that made me think of windmills.
My girls stood on the side with their friends, watching. They looked relieved when I didn't join windmill mom in the center as she tried to do the Casper Slide on skates. They cheered me on for speed skate and my daughter's chest puffed with pride.
They cheered me on as I dodged in and out of the crowd, skillfully avoiding a five year old boy going against traffic, looking like a Frogger accident waiting to happen.
I left my hair down and enjoyed the wind wrestling with my locks. I got bold then.
I held my breath and did a jump turn.
That worked okay and I exhaled.
I did it again and savored the feeling of flying.
And tumbling.
When I came back down, I zigged when I should have zagged and my flying turned to falling, right on my natural show off ass.
I did it artfully though.
I put my hands in the air and experienced a flashback to another beloved period in my life.
I was no longer a super-skater, I was a college cheerleader again, doing a butt plant in the middle of the New York City Cheerleader finals.
I smiled all the way down. (We won that year.)
The crowd cheered.
I smiled all the way up and I didn't even rub my aching behind.
At least not until I went home.

Comments

bunni said…
WOW! This blog brought back so many memories. I remember you taking me skating and being just as proud as the girls were of you. Thanks! Now if I can only remember how to skate backwards....
Anonymous said…
isn't there a song called bouncing, booty, booty bouncing?

anyway, always see a hot mom rolling around the rink. go on girl!

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