Ice skating is a VERY dangerous sport. I shall not do it again.

So we have just experienced another weekend of birthday madness.  It happens every year, because we have somehow ended up with two girls born two days apart.

Four years and two days.  This year Sarah turned 11 and Issy 7.

My youngest child is 7! When did THAT happen?

As usual it ended up a bit mad.  We had my sister visiting from Brisbane which was lovely, we had family dinners planned, a quick birthday breakfast before her return flight, and we even squeezed in an impromptu lunch at Hugo's.

We occasionally sported an extra child which was considered extra fun by everyone.  In a bizarre twist, Issy had her mate at Sarah's birthday Chinese meal and Sarah had her friend with us for much of Issy's birthday.

Neither of them minded.  They're good like that.  They have named the 7th of June (the day between their birthdays) 'Sister's day'.  I hijacked this idea to have dinner with MY sisters.

Also, there were a few requests for activities by the birthday girls and who am I to refuse them?

So we went to the movies today (Monday).  And yesterday we went iceskating.

Iceskating is not my favourite.  I foolishly took Sarah one day when she was in Kindergarten and had a pupil free day.  Both the other kids had preschool/day care and we did have a fun day together.

Since then, every chance she gets, she asks to go.  And about 50% of the time we say yes.  Mike has also been caught out and spent two hours gliding less than gracefully around the ice rink at Macquarie.  Which, can I add, is not convenient to drive to AT ALL.

Last time I went, I took Sarah and two mates.  It was early 2013 and they were all 9.  They were all capable of staying upright and didn't need me, so I settled down smugly for 2 hours of fiddling with my phone and watching them fondly.

Oh foolish smugness.

Less than 10 minutes into the session, one of Sarah's friends was sideswiped by an inexperienced skater and hit the deck.  With her face.  Cue teeth through tongue, chipped teeth, possible fractured jaw.

The drive home was interminable.  Sarah and her uninjured mate tried valiantly to cheer their poor little injured friend up.  She was far too badly injured for that, and cried piteously for her Mum all the horrible 45 minute drive home.

I rang ahead of course, and by the time I got home, the emergency dentist was waiting for them and her Dad had managed to get home from work (he must have levitated he got there so fast), he opened my car door, tenderly lifted his wounded chick from the car and climbed into the front seat with her in his arms.  He was not letting her go, seatbelts be damned.  His wife was at the wheel, she screeched out of the driveway and they were gone.

Sarah and her mate waited 2 seconds of stunned silence before bursting into simultaneous floods of tears.  As did I.

After a bit of jaw wiring and a few weeks of soft food, our poor little ice skater made a full recovery.  And everyone is still talking to each other. Are good friends in fact. But none of us adults will EVER forget that day, or be able to think of it without shuddering.

So, nearly 18 months later, we were back at the place of terrible memories (for me anyway, Sarah has bounced back with the elasticity of youth).

Sarah- zooming with no nasty memories.

We paid, got skates, changed skates because the size was wrong, laced, relaced, changed skates again because they rubbed, and got out onto the ice.

Before the terrible injury.

And really, for about 40 minutes it was FUN.  But the evil iceskating fairies were out again.  I'd alternated taking Issy and Josh around.  Sarah and her mate were having fun, (although the mate had done the unintentional splits a few times),  I was just about to swap Issy for Josh when he arrived in a rush, and cannoned into me, falling to the ice behind me and taking me off balance.

At which point I lost my footing, and as I tried to rebalance, lifted my skate and put it down hard into Joshie's little shin bone.  He let out a scream, just as I realised what was under my skate blade and picked my foot up again, losing my balance properly and stacking it completely.

Josh was howling in agony, somehow we got him off the ice and lifted his jeans up to show a nasty scrape and a growing bump.

I thought I'd broken my boy's leg.  I felt sick.

And once again a trip to the ice rink was cut short by injury.  Although, thank goodness, not as serious this time. We were there for less than an hour.

Not everyone was sad to leave. Turns out Sarah's mate had done the splits one too many times and was ready to call it a day too.

Issy made me take her round once more (because it was her birthday).

This is also before the injury.  This is why we are smiling. 

By the time we had packed ourselves up, Josh had calmed down and could bear weight on his leg.  Thoughts of the emergency department began to fade.  Thoughts of a stiff drink began to take their place.

It takes more than an injured brother to keep this birthday girl down. 

I am NOT going iceskating again.  It is very dangerous.  Way too dangerous for my nerves.  I'd rather take them rock climbing.  I'll belay for hours if I know I don't have to watch my child (or someone else's) in agony with a skating related injury.

Yes I know it's just bad luck, but I'm not going to tempt the evil ice fairies again.  Sorry kids.