My parents aren't sporty people. Growing up, our equivalent of "the big game" was a weekend of Skate Canada. Our calendar was cleared if it was the World Figure Skating Championships...and the Winter Olympics were mostly spent watching...you guessed it...skating.
So it isn't really surprising that they never took me skiing. This has never been an issue. I'm sure there are people the world over who don't ski. However, my friends are not these people. They all ski. Their kids all ski. In fact, every winter there is a huge excursion to Mt. Washington where they rent a chalet and 50 of them squish in there for the weekend and they ski...all weekend.
I have never joined them, which is unusual for me because I don't like missing a party. However, there are several things that have never appealed to me about skiing:
- This activity generally takes place in the snow
- Snow is very cold
- It is expensive
- People are always breaking bones when they ski
- Everything is at an angle
My kids are the ones who pushed us to go up and give it a try. We relented, and last year we made our first trek up to the mountain. The four of us took a snow boarding lesson on the first morning. I had heard that perhaps skiing is an easier sport to start with. I ignored this advice and pictured myself on my snowboard, looking like the female Shawn White...taking to it quickly and impressing my instructor so much that he offered to take me on as his apprentice, with an eye to the 2014 Olympics.
I should have listened to the advice.
The first morning we were there we got our equipment and headed out to the hill. Our instructor had us strap one foot to the board and start to get a feel for things. This went ok. A couple of us landed on our butts...but it was easy enough to pop back up and try again. Then we strapped in our second foot. This is where things started to go badly. I watched as my husband and kids set off down the hill...looking shaky but doing it, none the less. I remained on my bum. I seemed unable to stand up. How did everyone else get on their feet? The instructor came and helped me up. Once standing, I did ok. I was making my way down the hill...following my family who were now distant specks. I fell again. Again I was powerless to move. Again I was helped up by my instructor.
Finally we were reunited with my family and we sat in the snow to receive our next instruction. To be honest...it was all an auditory blur...because I watched in awe as all three members of my family stood up; ready to tackle the next challenge. I remained seated.
After being helped up by our instructor once again, I struggled along as we made our way down the bunny hill. Once we reached the bottom I felt pride...I had done it! I had successfully descended the bunny hill. But this feeling soon waned as the instructor informed us that we would then be getting on the chairlift and going even FURTHER up the mountain. Really? Really! I mean...really? We had JUST made it down! We have to go back up?!
The whole chair-lift thing seems pretty dodgy to me. They don't seem very sturdy. They look like something that carnies have slapped together over night...and yet you sit on them for 10 minutes while you hang 50 feet in the air. I don't know...it doesn't seem right to me.
I didn't let on that I was anything less than excited by this new activity. We stood in line as he explained how we would be getting on and off the lift. It involved taking one foot out of the bindings and using it to propel you along...sort of like a skateboard. Unlike a skateboard, the foot that remains strapped to the board is at a terrible angle for forward momentum. We all shuffled along until it was our turn to board the 'death-ride.' The instructor went on the first chair alone...probably so he could point and laugh as we tried to disembark at the top. Next was my husband and daughter. They seemed to do ok. My son and I were up next. My palms were sweating and all I could hear was white noise in my head. We shuffled up to the line...and then WHOMP the chair hit the backs of our legs and we were on. I couldn't let go of my son. This all seemed so crazy...it felt like if I let go he would fall out. "Mom! I'm fine! Let go! We're not going to fall!" Why was it that my 10 year old was the voice of reason as I tried to huddle in the fetal position beside him.
As we slowly made our way up the mountain I gradually relaxed. I was fine for the middle stretch. But as we passed the halfway point I started to panic about how we were supposed to get off this stupid contraption. I strained to see up ahead so that perhaps I could just imitate the people before us. Mountains are slopey...I couldn't see anyone further ahead than my husband and daughter who presumably wouldn't be experts at this. They proved me wrong. Off they went and disappeared down the little decline just on the other side of the exit point. We were next. We whipped up the safety bar as my pulse increased...I could feel the ground getting closer to my snowboard. I could see our instructor and he was saying encouraging things, no doubt. I could only hear the white noise...I was really concentrating hard. I calmed my breathing and visualized a perfect dismount. People would clap and cheer and my son and I would pump our arms in triumph. This was it...our big moment. As soon as we were over the platform we both stood up...and jumped. We literally took a flying leap forward and landed in a heap at the bottom of the decline. We both felt that being bumped by the chair lift was WAY worse than taking a face first dive off of the platform into the snow in front of dozens of people.
We didn't pump our arms in triumph.
We were now on the top (okay okay...it wasn't the top...but it FELT like the top) of a mountain and I was well and truly done. Ready to stop. Ready to go back to the condo and have a stiff drink. Ready to be warm. Ready to not have a stupid board strapped to my feet. Ready to stop looking like a moron. There was one itty bitty problem. I had to get back down this stupid hill.
My family carved their way happily down the slopes...when they fell they got up and continued on. It looked like tons of fun. I, on the other hand, still required my instructor to heave my sorry ass off the ground every time I fell. I could sense the frustration of my family as they waited for me for the umpteenth time to join them so we could continue on. Sorry guys...Mom sucks.
Eventually I did make it down to the bottom again. I thought for sure we must be finished now. It felt like we'd been out there for days. It felt like parts of my body were bruised to the point of degrading into a pulpy mess.
Let me take a moment to tell you a little bit about falling on a snow board. There is zero notice. One minute you are upright...the next you are face first in the snow with your legs at 45 degree angles to your body. After a few hours of this...I had had enough.
However, much to my chagrin, he made us go up the ski lift again. And guess what? I fell as I got off again. However, I now had it down to a three step dismount...stand up...fall down...roll out of the way making a beautiful arc as the snow board sails through the air above my head. Back down the mountain I came. Hoisted up...falling down...hoisted up...falling down. While I was up I really wasn't too bad...I was starting to get the feel of things. But really...I think I spent just as much time lying supine in the snow waiting to be re-hoisted
Eventually, by the mercy of the God in the heavens, the lesson was finally over. However...back to one of my original complaints about ski hills....they are on an angle. With my jello legs trembling from the epic workout, I then had to trudge back up the hill to our condo.
After a nice relaxing lunch, the kids were raring to get back to it.
I poured a glass of wine and spent the rest of the trip on the couch where I didn't need the instructor to help me get up.
Well...Christmas is officially over at our house. It took 3 weeks but we did it...we've celebrated it until we could celebrate it no more. Decorations are down...pine needles are gone...leftovers persist.
After having spent the past few weeks on holidays with the kids home, entertaining many people, and having house guests, our laundry room was understandably feeling the pressure. There were piles of dirty clothes, sheets, and table cloths strewn about this tiny room. Yesterday we decided to roll our sleeves up and begin to tackle Laundry Mountain.
Let me start off by saying that I actually quite like this chore. It makes me feel like I'm taking good care of my family without having to actually be with them. I can lock myself into that small, windowless space, and launder and fold the clothes of the family that only resides inside my imagination. The family that promptly takes their neatly arranged laundry baskets up into their room, and puts them away in their closets that look like store displays; everything facing the same way...grouped by categories. Underwear and socks all in little rows ready to be taken out the next day and not only be worn, but be appreciated by my family. This family in my imagination smiles inwardly each morning, taking a moment to give thanks for such soft, wonderful smelling laundry that their generous and talented mother provides them with love.
The reality is that once the clothes leave my little laundry-womb where everything is clean and warm and safe, it is plunged into a dangerous arena where nothing is as it should be...where it is every shirt for itself.
I usually put the laundry baskets at the bottom of the stairs for the kids to take with them the next time they go up to their rooms. "There's laundry ready to go up", I bellow helpfully. "Kay" is usually the reply I hear.
Perhaps I am not up on the current lingo. Perhaps "kay" means "I'm never going to do this...I'm going to just pretend it's not there...in fact I'm going to step over it several times a day until it magically disappears." That is, in fact, what they mean by "kay."
The poor little shirts and socks in there are pawed through...tossed back in if they don't match the pants of the day...the cat sleeps on them...other things are piled on top of them. I am sure they are now dreaming of the life they used to have inside the laundry room where they were treated with love and respect.
I have become used to this routine...I have tried to get over it and not place so much symbolism on clean clothes. However, today I reached my limit. My kids are now of an age that some of their clothes require ironing. Not a lot...but some. There are usually 3 or 4 things each week that if I don't iron them, they make my children look like we've made them sleep their clothes in the bathtub and then just dried them off and sent them to school.
Today as I was ironing my son's black dress shirt...after having sorted this black dress shirt, washed this black dress shirt, and then dried this black dress shirt...I realized that he hasn't worn this black dress shirt...not in a good long while. And then I recall that I also did this black dress shirt last week. Then it hits me. He is SO Lazy that it is easier for him to just put this shirt back into the laundry basket upstairs, than to pull out a hanger and place it nicely in his closet. I hit the roof. I am flashing back to how many times I have touched this shirt as I moved it along through the laundry process...to my ironing this stupid shirt TWICE now for no reason. I am tempted to shred this shirt and feed it to him piece by piece. Or make him go to school wearing only this shirt, since it's looking so sharp and clean. Visions of him being forced to wear this very shirt to his graduation ceremony then fill my head....his hairy, adult arms sticking way out of this tiny black shirt...his adult-sized midriff showing below where his well ironed shirt ends.
Instead I decide to charge a fee for any articles of clothes that I have had to launder unnecessarily. This will also apply to my daughter who is just as guilty of this particular activity. Hers is not often the result of laziness...but of her need to wear 16 different outfits a day. These outfits go into the laundry, even if they've only been worn for a fraction of a minute, then tossed aside. So I need to log the outfit they are wearing each morning because these are the clothes I am willing to wash at no charge...everything else they will pay for.
In order to carry this out effectively, I will need some additional equipment. Some way to capture an image of them, catalogue it, and then cross-reference that with what I find in their laundry hamper. Perhaps some sort of bar-coding and a scanner?
Now I'm feeling like this is all getting a little complicated. Maybe to break my kids' bad laundry habits I should go back to using some good, old fashioned shouting.
Well here it is!!! The first day of a whole new year!!! The first day of my journey toward gluttony and bad parenting!!! I am giddy with excitement!!! LOL LMAO Lungs - you've been warned. Waistline - you've been warned. Kids, liver and brain - you've been warned!!!
You also may have noticed that it's the weekend!!! Two days of over-punctuation??!!! And predictable, over used outbursts!!! OMG!!!
The day began perfectly to help me to start how I mean to go on! It started with a huge brunch that my parents treated us to...ringing in the new year with carbs and obscene amounts of fat!!! We sat together around the table as maple syrup and grease ran down our chins...reminiscing about the past year! The only time we came close to balancing off our overindulgence was when we sprinted back to the tables that held the feast to pile our plate high again with foods you only eat when a special occaision gives you the ok to do so. I enjoyed watching my son, face shiny from his nose to his chin, telling me how good the eggs benedict was. Or my daughter who looked like she was wearing reverse black face after enjoying several pieces of chocolate mousse cake!!! LOL When everyone's buttons had popped, and the ensuing groans of contentment and gastric complaints were heard around the table, we headed for home...our arms straining to achieve the thank you hugs that were now made more challenging by our distended bellies.
Once home, I started right in on another one of my resolutions. Because my kids thought it was a great idea to stay up until midnight last night, they were understandably rangy today. OMG!! This provided many opportunities to work on my shouting. I am sure they meant it when they told me "okay...I'm on it" after the third time I asked them to move their shoes and jackets from the hall where they dropped them as they walked through the door. Their bleary-eyed faces seemed to convey their honest intention to put their belongings away where they belonged. The same applies to their granola bar wrappers, wet towels from their morning showers, markers and paper, empty juice glasses, blankets, pillows, dolls, doll clothes, doll carriage, doll bottles, yoyo, deck of cards, another granola bar wrapper and the hamster. However well intentioned they were...they did not follow through, probably due to lack of sleep and too many cake-enduced endorphins. Every time I turned around they were in front of one screen or another...eyes glazed...hand clutching their bellies...far away look in their eyes.
I did lots of shouting today!!! It felt good!!! It felt productive...like I was on a roll after getting such a jump on the day's eating regime. I tried "frustrated" shouting. Then went for a "oh-you-kids-will-be-the-death-of-me" style of shouting. The eye-rolling "teenager" shouting. One highlight for me was my "you don't appreciate everything your dad and I do for you" shouting. That one is my favorite.
Clearly I am out of shape though...I could only keep it up for a few hours!!! Eventually I reverted back to my old, unhealthy routine of quietly muttering under my breath as I cleared their things away myself. And I felt myself having unhelpful thoughts...thoughts like "they're exhausted...they need some down time" Such thoughts are counter productive to my new lifestyle and therefore I tried very hard to push them out of my head. This just goes to show how diligent you have to be in order to break old habits and stick to your new way of living!
Having the eating and shouting well under way I then turned my attention on my smoking. Oh how I smoked. I smoked and smoked today. I think if I had occasion to sing the national anthem today I would need to sing it 2 octaves down!!! LOL!!! And speaking of laughing out loud...I'm fairly certain that if there is any chance that I laugh this evening, it will end in fits of choking gasping seizures as my lungs are almost completely gummed up with tar. God I'm doing great at this!!! I feel certain that I could compete at the international level of smoking if my training regime can maintain this pace!!! Emphezema...eat your heart out. Your ass is MINE!
In an effort not to burn out too soon, I am saving the drinking for tomorrow. As I have mentioned, my husband's family is coming to our place for a late Christmas tomorrow...all 25 of them. This seems like the perfect time to begin work on my drinking. OMG!!! There is a LOT of things to do tomorrow to get ready. I think that being slightly akilter starting bright and early should really up my productivity. I am sure that everyone will understand that surely I can't be expected to do my share. Not with such lofty goals to acheive and it being only the second day of my journey.
I'm sure no one will be dismayed by the 3 inches of dog hair that is currently covering all of our hardwood floors. That when they hear that I needed to start my drinking at first light and was therefore unable to vacuum, that they will certainly just make a helpful comment about how it's just like having new wall-to-wall carpeting. Or that if we have nothing left to drink for them, that I have only done them a favor considering the new drunk-driving laws that have recently come in. And I think that if everyone who is coming just washes up one dirty pot apiece, the kitchen will be clear in no time at all. So I feel confident that everything will work out just fine, even if I am unable to stand vertically by the time our guests arrive!
So there it is!!! As they say...every great journey begins with one step. I think that todays was one big, greasy, frosted, shouty, carcinogenic step in the right direction. OMG!!!
