My Olympic Hangover

Well, the games are over. I had a good time watching from my front-row living room seats every night for 17 nights. I laughed, I cried, I cringed and I cheered. I jumped up and down like a crazy person. I screamed. I yelled. Did I mention I cried? I had more mood swings in those 17 days than I did when I was pregnant and I thought my husband ate all the chips.

 

Names like Joannie, Alexandre, Heil, Jacey Jay, Hamelin, Virtue and Moir are now etched in our collective consciousnesses. Sid became everybody’s kid, and that last gold will shine on in our hearts and our history books. I’m quite sure I’ll be relaying the event to my children – who didn’t realize they were witnessing history and not just their mother freaking out 7 minutes into overtime in the gold medal game – in decades to come.

 

We waved our red and white mittens at each other, a hundred thousand little flags greeting the world and welcoming them to a country we were for once, outspokenly, proud to say was ours. For the first time, maybe in forever, I felt like Vancouverites didn’t hate me because I was from Toronto, and that it might not be hazardous to sit in the first row in front of Ashley McIsaac. We experienced a patriotism that the blurred the lines between provinces and in the memory of urine-soaked indignities. It was magical.

 

And now it’s over. What the hell am I supposed to do now? Is it still ok to wear my mittens? Am I really supposed to go back to watching a hockey team that couldn’t get a puck into the Grand Canyon from 10 feet away? Do West-coasters hate me again? Are huge floating beavers done being a symbol of national pride and back to being a fantasy of Tiger Woods’? Are the U.S. newspapers going to stop lambasting us for showing our national ‘chauvenism’ and go back to lambasting us for not having any?

 

March came in like a lamb this year, two days after the fire was ceremoniously put out, and the sun is shining. 5000 km away, the Paralympics will soon start, but they will also soon end. Stands and signs and the flotsam and jetsam of the Olympic games will be torn down and put away - and I like spring, I do. I am always cold and I always want it to warm up. But this year… well, this year, I’m ok if the lion takes over, at least for a little while longer.

 

I’m just not ready to stop wearing my mittens yet.

 

 

 

 

This is an original post for Canada Moms Blog. Karen also blogs at The Kids Are Alright.