Skiing- Part Deux

Skiing- Part Deux

         My husband loves the idea of skiing.  He loves that we can do it as a family.  And, theoretically, he is right.  We could come off the slopes rosy cheeked, full of trail stories to share, tired and happy…  It just hasn’t happened yet, at least not for me.  My husband and I have skied at the same times and in the same places this winter BUT have had completely different experiences.

         In January, we took our first real ski trip for a weekend.  It was the coldest stretch of our unusually mild winter.  All the layers coupled with frustration drove one of my children insane.  I handled the situation with patience and grace.  Hahahahaha!  I mean I went insane and hissed and pulled my hair out.  All while my husband skied happily with the two sane kids and even got a chance to go up the mountain on a grownup run.  It was okay with me.  He loves to ski and I am a novice.  It made sense for me to be with the little one. And towards the end of the day, the cloud of insanity lifted and we did have some fun.

         So we decided to try again with a day trip to a slope a few hours away.  I was kind of excited because I was getting a little bit better.  The weather was warmer and the insanity had lifted toward the end of the last trip.  (And it was 80’s weekend at the hill!)  I was hopeful for a good day.  Just to make sure I had a better time my husband and I switched kids.  I would take the older two who were fine last time and he would take the child who had imploded last time.  I’m going to pause so you can figure out what happened next….

         Did you guess?  The child who was so difficult last time had found her skiing mojo.  She and her dad took off for the lifts.  My son, who last time couldn’t be convinced to take a break, imploded.  Not right away, these things take time.  (If it had happened right away, I would’ve realized and switched kids back in a hurry.)  We had a few good runs.  Going slow getting the feel of things.  I’m feeling great, thinking, “I can feel myself getting better.  I just needed to practice!  I can do this! Hubby was right!  This is fun!”  We pick up a little speed and I get a little ahead of my son. Smiling, I turn to look back and he is down and holding his knee.  I pull over and wait for him to get up.  And wait.  I begin to edge my way uphill towards him.  The fun begins…

         This was the first real fall of the day so his particular brand of crazy had yet to ratchet up to top speed.  This time, he “couldn’t feel” his leg.  After a few minutes of sympathy, he gets up dramatically stoic and we continue down the slope.  I am happy he is okay and we’re having fun right?  I know there are no sharks in skiing but if there was a soundtrack to my day a few bars of the Jaws theme would have played right them.  This was only the beginning…

         On another run, I was waiting for him to get up and he didn’t again.   When I got to him I was met with, “You don’t even care that I got hurt?!” We wound up walking down the remainder of the hill.  I got a message from my husband that he and the happy one were taking a break at the top of the hill with a snack and they would meet us later.  They sounded happy.  We decided to take a food and Advil break; hoping everyone would feel better after lunch.

         When we got back out, my husband and the one we now call “Rocket” zoomed by laughing.  Optimistically, we headed to the lifts.  We made it few a more runs; stopping for breaks to rest his knee and talking it slow.  It seemed that every time I started to get into a rhythm my son would fall and be “seriously” injured. Our very last run, I was already pushing the limits of childhood sanity.  My son said he would go one last time despite his pain.  (Have I mentioned his low pain threshold?)  I just kept hoping the mood would turn around.  It was not to be.  One more fall.  More knee clutching. One more dramatic walk down the hill. 

         We meet up with my husband and the little one.  They are all rosy cheeked and laughing.  We were all ornery.  I can’t figure it out.  Why are they grumpy with me? Do I exude noxious mood fumes? We are planning another try the following weekend and there is one more kid.  One who has been calm up until now.  Will she be the next to self-destruct on my watch?  Who should I unload on my husband?!  Decisions, decisions….