Little Moby Homemaker: Domestic God

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Hockey Night with the Homemakers

Moby Homemaker

I am an out of work "At Home Dad" who has risen from the ashes like an overweight, over worked, under paid phoenix to become a "Domestic God"

Since the role of Domestic Deity was thrust upon me, money has gotten, let's face it--a bit tight.  As anyone knows when you're pinching the pennies, the first luxury that takes a hit is "entertainment".  The Homemaker household is no different.  The premium cable is gone (Lord, I miss Skinamax) and trips to movies and dinners out have been severely curbed.

So you can only imagine the excitement my family felt when I came across a free family pack of tickets to our local minor league hockey team's game last evening!  That's right--The Mrs., Colton , Little Rusty, and Moby H. were going to enjoy a big night out on Hockey Town!

Let me begin by saying that we are not a "hockey family".  I speak for my brood when I explain that we have nothing against the sport.  In fact, I would argue that hockey players are perhaps the most gifted athletes on the face of the earth.  I believe hockey never really caught on with us because of the simple fact, that the sport doesn't translate well to television.  I have always enjoyed the game live--but have struggled following it on the tube.  Maybe if they made the puck the size of a basketball and it the players slowed the fuck down, I could enjoy it more as a tv viewer? 

Like I stated earlier, I have always enjoyed attending hockey games, and everyone at our house was delighted at the prospect of taking in a live game.  My wife and I loaded up our two sons and headed to the arena.  And guess what???  It was "Youth Hockey Stick Night"!!!  On paper, this sounds great. The first 2500 kids would receive a free souvenir hockey stick.  It seemed like a wonderful promotion until they got one of these instruments of pain in the hot little hands of my 5 year-old son, Little Rusty.  Have you ever heard the horror stories about the infamous "Bat Day" at Yankee Stadium?  The stories of mass beatings in the stands by angry mobs and their souvenir bats?  Imagine the same scenario on a much smaller AHL scale.

It became evident during the pre-game warmups, that these fucking sticks were going to be a huge problem.  Whether it was one little bastard after another accidentally smacking you in the shins as they moved through the arena, or Little Rusty's constant cross checking of his older brother in their seats, I immediately determined two things from the Youth Hockey Stick Night phenomenon.  First, people have no control of their kids in large publicly gatherings involving weaponry.  (I am included in this observation--at least at this juncture).  And secondly, I was going to need a $6 ice cold beer--quickly.

Once the game began, the juvenile crowd's hockey stick shenanigans decreased--but did not totally disappear.  This kind of sucked because it prevented my wife and I from being able to really take full advantage of the personal motivation aspect of this hockey game.  We were starting to feel thin at this place!  No offense, but attendees of the local hockey game had more rolls than a Swedish bakery and more chins than a Chinese phone book.  If our kids weren't beating the living shit out of each other, I think the Mrs. and I could have really felt good about our physiques!

To make a long story short--we made it into the second intermission before my better half and I pulled our "power play".  We wrangled Colton and Rusty out of the arena and headed home.  Outside of the stick beatings, they had a great time.  Our sons saw world class athletes, they ate crappy food and the two noted that their Mom and Dad were not that fat.  It was a successful and rather inexpensive night out with the family!

This Domestic God & company are crossing their collective fingers that they can score some complimentary tickets to next month's "School Bus Demolition Derby" at the local speedway....



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1 Comment

Daisy said:

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Great post! Oh well, at least you got to get out for a little while. This brings back bad memories of a time we took our sons to the circus where they were selling "light sabers" which were actually flashlights with long telescoping pointy ends on them. We foolishly bought them for the boys as souvenirs. They spent the rest of the time there dueling with them, poking each other with them, whacking each other (and us) with them. I'm sure you get the picture. HA!

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