On Friday night, I learned my limitation. I took ten pre-teen girls to the ice rink--along with little brother Victor, who had never ice-skated in his life.

At fortysomething, I had no deep-seated desire to skate; the girls afterall would skate by themselves and completely ignore me. I was cold. I was sore from my early-morning tennis game and half-hour workout with weights. In tiny Ridgefield, Connecticut in January, ice skating on a Friday night is as good as it gets: the place was packed. Clearly two hundred children and hormone- impaired middleschoolers were lacing up, while little Victor begged me to skate alongside him, at this never-before-seen rink, with an almost-desperate look on his face.

Of course I had to oblige. "How tough could this be anyway?" I thought as I snapped on my rented skates. "I work out everyday," I reassured myself. I skated as a kid. We'll take it slowly. I look the part, what with my jeans, turtleneck, and down vest. I mean...I could pass for one of these kids if you caught me at the right angle!

We got onto the ice, Victor holding my hand with a look of "Can I do this, Mom?" and me with an "it's-like-riding-a-bike-you-never-forget-how" assurance.

The first time around was, well, awkward would be an understatement. I was wobbly. Victor held me up. When I asked him how he was doing, he was clearly in control. "I rollerblade, remember, Mom?" Oh yeah...that.

Dozens of wiry boys...barely as high as my kneecap...who had clearly been skating since they could crawl...zigzagged in and out of my path like cockroaches when caught in the dark by a quickly-turned-on light. Whippersnappers! In and out they skated, so fast and with such precision that it took my misted-breath away.

Did I mention the strobe lights? Just when I thought it was safe to look down and see where I was going, the lights playing on the ice only made me dizzy. I was reassured by my assessment when Victor exclaimed: "Mom, don't look down! You'll throw up!"

By the third or fourth time around, I was feeling much more confident. But when a pre-teen girl caught sight of a hottie and abruptly skated backwards...directly in front of me...I was knocked smack on the ice. I landed on my wrists, and fully realized how hard the ice really is...and how much more brittle my bones are at my age...when I picked myself up with a half- laugh and an under-my-breath grunt of "I hope he was worth it."

We were great, Victor and I. He took to the ice like a duck to water and passed me whenever he could, checking in with me every few dozen yards to make sure I was still alive. The second crash was my swan song; I exited to the slightly warmer viewing room with ice on my butt and two clearly bruised wrists, totally ticked off that these kids had gotten the best of me.

Five minutes later, I reminded myself why I was there in the first place: I had a 9-year-old son who needed me, for crying out loud! It was back to the ice for another half-hour. Round and round we went, avoiding the whippersnappers and pre-teen girls with a vengeance. My daughter and her nine friends? Forgetaboutem. Caught in their own little world-on-ice, checking out each face that whirled past them, I was only the night-time driver and MasterCard-holder.

The evening ended with hot cocoa drunk by giggling, rosy-cheeked girls. Victor, encouraged by my proddings of "You're doing so great!" now had his sights set on ice hockey. And my left wrist, though clearly black and blue from a dozen broken blood vessels, was not much worse for the wear.

Will we do that again? Absolutely. Cold air, oxygen to the brain, rosy cheeks, laughter, friends, bonding with my kids, and a sense of community in this New England town of mine are just too compelling.

Looking like a fool when I fall? Black-and-blue reminders of my middle age? Bruises to my ego? Well...that's all part of motherhood.

Keeping the spirit of the holidays after the holidays have clearly passed is one of the challenges of being a Rocket Mom. Keep your eyes wide open for opportunities throughout the next couple winter months to create special memories with your kids. Be it snow-skiing, ice skating, or sledding; or creating unique pottery at your local paint bar...be prepared for giggles and memory-making...and check your ego at the door.

Carolina Fernandez

Carolina Fernandez earned an M.B.A. before working at IBM and as a stockbroker at Merrill Lynch. She left the corporate world to work as a full-time wife, mother, and homemaker.

Coming home to longer hours, harder work, and more demanding relationships left her feeling totally overwhelmed. Granted, she traded one investment field for another which has yielded immeasurable returns heretofore unimagined. Nonetheless, her frustration at her lack of ability in tackling all of motherhood?s inherently difficult challenges pushed her into a nearly twenty year labor of love. Her research in child development, child psychology, social psychology, nutrition, and exercise physiology, along with indispensable insights and experiences gained along the way, finally evolved into ROCKET MOM!

She re-invented herself in the process. She has dabbled in the domestic, performing, and visual arts, undertaking projects ranging from painting in oils to hooking rugs to singing onstage in Carnegie Hall. She has developed strong convictions about the role of the arts in child development; these convictions have shaped the specific strategies played out in the book.

She has a passion for inspiring creativity in people of all ages, from pre-schoolers to rocket grandmoms! Indeed, she receives particular joy in helping moms on the front line as they engage in what is arguably the most creative challenge ever invented: motherhood. To this end, she writes and speaks extensively, and is constantly developing teaching materials in her effort to share the crucial intervention of creative nurturing in developing children. She shares her message via radio and TV interviews; print media; and in speaking platforms via seminars and workshops, lectures and keynotes for pre-schools, women?s groups, retreats, civic organizations and adult education classes. Her soon-to-be-launched cable TV program, ROCKET MOM! will reach thousands of households in the Fairfield County area of Connecticut.

Her newly-formed Rocket Mom Society attempts to meet her mission head-on as she ?encourages, equips and empowers moms for excellence.?

She lives with her husband and their four children in Ridgefield, Connecticut.