What is it that happens to you when your whole family is sick....why isn't there a word for this phenomenon? The experience of widely vacillating feelings toward them from one extreme to the other. Nurturing feelings of knowing your place in the world is right beside them, comforting them and helping them any way you can. And the feeling of wanting them to just stop making those horrible coughing sounds and start cleaning up after themselves. Yin/Yang Empathy/Irritation Cheek on forehead comforting/ Fingers in ears running to escape the hell.
When my son plunged headlong into a flu last week all of those maternal feelings came out. I was feeling his forehead with my cheek, tucking him under blankets on the couch, bringing him juice, making all of those comforting mother sounds that we make. The poor thing had a fever and he was coughing...typical flu. Ick.
The next day I went to work, and my son languished on the couch under my husband's capable watch. He texted me updates as to whether he was feeling way too hot...or way too cold. He survived the day.
My daughter came home that evening from a play at a friends' house. It quickly became apparent that she, too, was succumbing to the flu. She plunged head first onto the couch and didn't move until we picked her up and took her to bed a few hours later.
The next morning I went off to work, knowing full well that both of my kids would be home from school. Luckily my husband was at home and would take care of my poor little sickies.
When I called home later in the morning I got my son on the phone. He was feeling ok...his sister was being mean to him...and dad still wasn't up. What? Why wasn't he up? It was 11:00! He needed to touch their foreheads with his cheek. He needed to make comforting mom noises. Didn't he understand this? If I was going to be able to spend the day at work without any Mom-guilt he was going to have to start making those noises pretty fast.
I got him on the phone...he was feeling terrible. He told me he was going to struggle out of bed and lie on the couch so the kids would be fooled into thinking they were being parented, even though he was only semi-conscious. Good...I could live with this. This plan was going to have to do.
When I got home mid-afternoon I was shocked to learn that Dad was still not up. He felt so horrible that he just couldn't do it..he was in bed cooking himself with a fever. The kids seemed ok...but the pang of guilt that shot through me was intense. The fact that my kids were so sick and had managed all day by themselves almost made me cry. I quickly rushed over to them and put my cheek on their forehead. I did this a few times to make up for lost time. I made some mom noises and then got to work on getting them some food, drinks, cleaning up the piles of snotty kleenexes, and generally looking after things. I was completely dead on my feet...getting up consistently at 4:30am after a not great sleep because of my bed-mate's coughing or feverish-flailing makes for a fairly exhausted person. But I had a renewed sense of purpose at this moment...I was getting things back under control.
When I put the kids to bed that night I told them "call me if dad can't get up tomorrow and I'll come home." I couldn't have a repeat of today. The guilt could cause permanent damage to my body.
All was well until I climbed into bed beside my daughter and felt how hot she was. I checked the sheets for singe marks because she was so hot I thought the bed must be on fire. She was hallucinating...shivering. Her temperature was 103! Yikes! Out came the tylenol...advil...cold cloths. An hour later she was back to a temperature that could sustain human life. I finally closed my eyes, now with only a few hours left for some sleep before I had to get up and go back to work.
Around 830 the next morning, after I had been a work for a few hours, I got the phone call from my son. He said that dad was still in bed, but that he and his sister were feeling fine. I asked them to take her temperature and text me with the results. The text came in... 103.5. I called back..."get dad up NOW!" He was now well enough to look after her, and throughout the day I got the temperature updates as it slowly went down to normal. Sigh....the world is back on its proper axis.
So, crisis over, I now moved into the next phase of dealing with a sick family: Irritation.
Now they are all just lying around...kleenex piles mounting...tv blaring...surrounded by 500 glasses with 1 inch of juice left in them...coughing. Coughing every 3 seconds. Coughing so loudly that they turn the TV up louder. Coughing so much that I cannot bear to be around them. I scurry in and clear away the glasses and kleenexes and get the hell out before I pick up a pillow and smother them. It's at this point that a vague memory appears in my mind of soothing mom-noises and cheeks on foreheads. I cannot imagine how I did that. These people are so disgusting. How did I touch them? They are seething with germs, they are pale and wan with liquids dripping out of them. How did it come to this?!
So again I ask...why isn't there a word for this phenomenon. A phenomenon that has you willing to do anything to make their suffering go away one minute, and poised over them with the nearest pillow contemplating the worst in the next.
Monday, February 14, 2011
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Figure Sk-hating
I believe I mentioned in a previous post that my parents love figure skating.
So much so that they bought tickets to Skate Canada that was held in town recently. They bought the event package which meant that they could go to all the events. There was a gala performance on the final night that they weren't interested in seeing, so they offered the tickets to me so that I could take my daughter, who they thought might be interested. She was...so off we went.
I have to admit that going in I was quite jaded. I thought this was going to be a stupid night with a lot of stupid skating with a bunch of stupid skating fans. This is maybe not the kindest way of approaching a free night out...but I'm just being honest here.
My daughter was quite excited and so I was looking forward to spending some time with her but really I probably would have rather gouged my eyes out with a melon-baller than go to a skating show.
We got there early on the advice of my parents who are sometimes parking-phobic. We sat down in our seats and started to have a good look around.
The first thing that I noticed were the two women sitting in the row ahead of us. They had matching outfits. On top were red and white wind jackets. You know the ones...I bet your PE teacher wore one...they make a very special sound when you move around. "Swish swish. I volunteered at the Commonwealth Games in 1994!", they seem to say. These jackets had multiple autographs from skating stars, collected over the years. These jackets were set off by matching red swishy pants. These would be overwhelmingly awesome all by themselves, but in addition they were wearing great big huge red and white felt hats. Again, I really believe that the hat on it's own would have enough impact...but it wasn't enough for these two. They had crocheted ice skates dangling from various spots all over their hats. It was truly a sight to behold. And they certainly looked like they had lived in those seats for the entire week. They had bags and bags of paraphernalia. They had signs...they had special ear phones so that they could hear the "play by play"...they had the programs all organized in a plastic bag. They had this down to a science.
The ladies behind us also had matching outfits. Theirs were less 90's but just as eye catching. Pins for dozens of skating events were all over their sunshine yellow jackets. They also looked well-ensconced in their seats...and looked fairly pro at this type of thing. I was feeling like we stuck out like a sore thumb.
Eventually the lights dimmed and I thought "oh great...here we go" [with sarcasm] We sat as one after another, people came out and skated around...like they seem to do at these things.
To be honest, at the beginning I was sitting with my arms crossed...not going to enjoy this even if you paid me. I was there strictly in a chaperoning capacity...certainly not as a fan. But as the evening dragged on something happened deep within me. I found myself clapping a little more enthusiastically than before. I realized that I was holding my breath just a little bit as they sped up to do their next jump. I leapt to my feet with everyone else as they gave a standing ovation when the performance was done. I was turning into one of them. Somehow they had rubbed off on me. Somehow I felt like I should be wearing a wind suit. I even wondered where you might buy one...and if they would have matching adult and child sizes so that the whole family could have them. Dear God...what had happened to me!
Instead of fighting these sensations, I just let go and gave into them. "Did you see that triple lutz! That was an amazing double salchow! Oh look how pretty that dress is with all the ribbons! Hoorah for that lovely death spiral!"
As we sat in the living room once we were home, and recapped the event for my husband I knew that life could never be the same. I found myself going on and on about how sparkely the dresses were...and how amazing the young boy who was now the Canadian Junior Champion was...and just the sheer length of this conversation proved to me that even the most ardent doubter could somehow be swayed. There is something about figure skating that can not, and will not be denied.
So much so that they bought tickets to Skate Canada that was held in town recently. They bought the event package which meant that they could go to all the events. There was a gala performance on the final night that they weren't interested in seeing, so they offered the tickets to me so that I could take my daughter, who they thought might be interested. She was...so off we went.
I have to admit that going in I was quite jaded. I thought this was going to be a stupid night with a lot of stupid skating with a bunch of stupid skating fans. This is maybe not the kindest way of approaching a free night out...but I'm just being honest here.
My daughter was quite excited and so I was looking forward to spending some time with her but really I probably would have rather gouged my eyes out with a melon-baller than go to a skating show.
We got there early on the advice of my parents who are sometimes parking-phobic. We sat down in our seats and started to have a good look around.
The first thing that I noticed were the two women sitting in the row ahead of us. They had matching outfits. On top were red and white wind jackets. You know the ones...I bet your PE teacher wore one...they make a very special sound when you move around. "Swish swish. I volunteered at the Commonwealth Games in 1994!", they seem to say. These jackets had multiple autographs from skating stars, collected over the years. These jackets were set off by matching red swishy pants. These would be overwhelmingly awesome all by themselves, but in addition they were wearing great big huge red and white felt hats. Again, I really believe that the hat on it's own would have enough impact...but it wasn't enough for these two. They had crocheted ice skates dangling from various spots all over their hats. It was truly a sight to behold. And they certainly looked like they had lived in those seats for the entire week. They had bags and bags of paraphernalia. They had signs...they had special ear phones so that they could hear the "play by play"...they had the programs all organized in a plastic bag. They had this down to a science.
The ladies behind us also had matching outfits. Theirs were less 90's but just as eye catching. Pins for dozens of skating events were all over their sunshine yellow jackets. They also looked well-ensconced in their seats...and looked fairly pro at this type of thing. I was feeling like we stuck out like a sore thumb.
Eventually the lights dimmed and I thought "oh great...here we go" [with sarcasm] We sat as one after another, people came out and skated around...like they seem to do at these things.
To be honest, at the beginning I was sitting with my arms crossed...not going to enjoy this even if you paid me. I was there strictly in a chaperoning capacity...certainly not as a fan. But as the evening dragged on something happened deep within me. I found myself clapping a little more enthusiastically than before. I realized that I was holding my breath just a little bit as they sped up to do their next jump. I leapt to my feet with everyone else as they gave a standing ovation when the performance was done. I was turning into one of them. Somehow they had rubbed off on me. Somehow I felt like I should be wearing a wind suit. I even wondered where you might buy one...and if they would have matching adult and child sizes so that the whole family could have them. Dear God...what had happened to me!
Instead of fighting these sensations, I just let go and gave into them. "Did you see that triple lutz! That was an amazing double salchow! Oh look how pretty that dress is with all the ribbons! Hoorah for that lovely death spiral!"
As we sat in the living room once we were home, and recapped the event for my husband I knew that life could never be the same. I found myself going on and on about how sparkely the dresses were...and how amazing the young boy who was now the Canadian Junior Champion was...and just the sheer length of this conversation proved to me that even the most ardent doubter could somehow be swayed. There is something about figure skating that can not, and will not be denied.
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
You can't teach a cold dog new tricks - Part II
Despite the trauma detailed in my last post, I really did have a great trip to the mountain. Everything that happened off the slopes was tons of fun. So this year we planned another ski trip.
This time I figured I would try skiing. Everyone said that it was much faster to learn...they were so right. This doesn't mean that there weren't moments of panic and scenes of complete chaos, despite the fact that I didn't have a snowboard strapped to my feet.
Because we are new to winter sports we rent our equipment. We were helped by the friendly staff at the rental place and I told her what shoe size I wore and out came my ski boots to try on.
I put them on and noticed that they felt uncomfortable. She told me to stand up in them and squat forward in a skiing position. My feet slid forward and they felt ok. So on they went and we headed outside with all of our equipment.
We had decided that instead of signing me up for a lesson, my husband who is a competent skier would just give me some tips...that mostly you just needed repetition to learn how to ski. He told me how to clip the skis into the bindings and told me the basics of what I should try to do.
At this point I could feel the circulation in my feet was diminishing. A slight tingling in my toes was a little bit alarming but everyone looked so ridiculous walking in ski boots I thought everyone must be feeling this way. I mentioned that my feet were starting to hurt and everyone told me that ski boots were uncomfortable...but that it shouldn't actually hurt. I took a moment to assess whether what I was feeling was discomfort or pain. I thought it pretty much felt like pain...but I really wanted to get to the skiing part of things so I thought I would just suck it up and continue.
The first few minutes of skiing were uneventful. I practiced the snow plow. I was feeling pretty steady. Then for no apparent reason I fell down. No big deal. It was a way nicer fall than the snowboard falls had been. People were giving me helpful hints as to how I could get back up but it wasn't really working. My heart sank as I thought about another day spent like a turtle on my back...unable to right myself without a lot of assistance from someone else. Out of frustration I just used my poles to un-clip my feet and got up. I could live with this. At least I could do this independently.
I made my way to the ski lift and got in line. Everyone said that getting on and off the ski lift was so much easier on skis than on a snowboard. Thank god for that because I wasn't sure I could take anymore humiliation in that department. I felt pretty good as I saw my husband and daughter board their chair and head up the mountain. Getting on the chair was a snap...I was feeling awesome...I was going to be an amazing skier...I could just feel it.
I enjoyed the assent up the hill, now trusting that the whole contraption wasn't going to collapse. I visualized my dismount...thinking 'how hard could this be...you stand up and glide down off the landing platform.' The fact that I had ski poles comforted me in that I could take my time and use them to propel myself forward if I stalled on the platform.
It was my turn...I stood up. I could not believe it when I found myself in a heap at the bottom of the off-ramp. What the hell?? Luckily there were several empty chairs behind me so no one was going to run over me. Once again, I used my poles to undo my bindings and rolled out of the way.
My husband and daughter waited patiently for me as I then had to put my skis back on...I could see a look of disgust pass briefly over their faces. They were trying to be supportive though and soon the three of us were on our way down the easiest green run.
It actually went very well. I never fell...I felt confident that I wasn't going to bowl anyone else over. Basically I could maintain some semblance of control as we skied down.
At one point I saw my family disappear ahead of me. They seemed to have dropped down a worm hole. As I got closer to where they vanished I realized that they had just skied down a very steep part of the run. I stopped and had a small panic attack as I stared down this slope. There was no way in god's green earth I would make it down alive. Not to mention that it was heavily populated at the bottom. I pictured myself in a gigantic Shaggy and Scooby-doo snowball with skis and poles sticking out of it barrelling down the mountain.
Although I enjoy making people laugh, I decided this wasn't how I wanted to do that. I unclipped and loped down the hill as my legs felt like they were being sawed off at the shins. These boots were just ridiculous.
After seeing how I was walking in them, my husband advised me that I looked like I was in pain. YES! I was, indeed, in pain.
I left my family to the slopes and headed back into the rental place. As soon as I got the right boots on my whole day turned around. THIS is why people can ski all day long...they can maintain circulation to their feet! Aha! It all made way more sense.
I met up with the family and my lesson continued. As we neared the bunny hill I put my skis back on. After a few pointers my coach/husband decided it was time to head down.
There were people everywhere. All of a sudden the hill looked very steep. I had a small tantrum there in front of the four year olds who seemed to be managing all of this much better than I was. My husband pointed out that this was, after all, a bunny hill. If I couldn't handle this then my hopes of making the 2014 Winter Olympics seemed very dim indeed.
Very patiently, he waited while I stopped whining and stomping my feet and actually focused on the task at hand. In the largest snow plow ever achieved, I slowly skidded down the hill until I reached a bit of a flat part. My daughter had zoomed ahead so I was left alone for a bit. I watched my family as they went down the hill and that was the motivation I needed...I wanted to catch up to them.
Once I was left on my own I was able to figure out this sport without the humiliation and self-consciousness that learning in front of other people always provides me. I actually was doing pretty good. I felt in control...that the small children in my midst would perhaps survive the day without the Indiana Jones experience of running for your life as a huge (snow covered) ball barrels towards you threatening to crush your bones to dust.
After a successful run down the bunny hill we ran into some friends at the bottom. As I stood still...chatting to my friend...I fell down. Just like that! One minute I was up...the next I wasn't up anymore. Another friend who was in the chair lift over head saw us and got quite a kick out of the fact that I didn't get back up. I continued the conversation lying spread eagle in the snow. I explained that I figured I would only fall down again if I stood up, so I felt it was somehow less embarrassing to just lie there...like I'd planned it that way all along. Just to cover my tracks I think I will try to lie down more often while people are talking to me. It was actually quite comfy down there. Unfortunately for my daughter, while I was still lying like I was about to make a snow-angel whilst carrying on a conversation, we ran into one of her friends from school. I'm sure she wasn't too impressed that we had more witnesses...I'm sure her friend wasn't either.
Eventually I did get up and we all got back in line for the chair lift.
Again, I enjoyed my ride up the hill. The thought of getting off the lift hadn't even entered my head. The first time was just a fluke...everyone says how easy it is to dismount in skis. As I stood up I really believed 100% that I was just going to ski off into the distance like everyone else.
My daughter was standing with her friend at the top by the time it was my turn to get off. They were going to be so impressed by me...oh ya...this would be the sexiest dismount ever.
As I fell, my eyes locked onto my daughter's friend's...the look on his face was one I had never seen before. It was like he had caught me being spoon fed as I sat in a great big high chair with a great big bib on. I am an adult...adults don't fall down on the top of the easiest chair on the mountain. Adults pick up the little kids that fall...at the very least, adults know how to stand up with skis on. Well...not this adult. Now I was mad. What was wrong with me! It is a 2 foot little ramp. It's not like I'm trying to ski down K2 or something.
At this point, it was decided that everyone except me was going to go down the harder baby run...I was happy to be going in the opposite direction. I couldn't stand to see that look on any more faces...that look of pity and disgust.
I am happy to report that I nailed my run...I didn't fall...I figured out how to do nice easy turns...I didn't really need to snow plow ever...I just skied. It was great. So great, in fact, that I skied right to the lift and headed up to do it all again.
I did some deep breathing...I decided that I had simply psyched myself out about getting off. I told myself "Self...it is nothing but a tiny little ramp. It isn't better than you...you are better than IT! This ramp has nothing on you. This ramp is what is standing between you and greatness...you shall overcome!"
Thank god it was a different person running the chair at the top...that made me feel better too. He assumed that I was just another skier...not the complete lunatic who can't get off the green chair.
I fell again. This really wasn't funny anymore. I was PISSED! He asked if I was ok. "YES!" I snapped at him as I jabbed at my stupid bindings with my stupid poles like a stupid idiot. I was so violently having a go at them that I'm sure I looked a little like Norman Bates in Psycho, plunging his knife into an innocent victim. At this point I felt like I was frustrated enough to give ol' Norman a run for his money.
I stood up and said, "why the hell can't I get off this chair??!!" Instead of leaving me to my misery, the lift operator had lots of good suggestions. I told him I would see him in 10 minutes and I fled down the hill, determined that I would figure this out before I turned in for the day.
Up I went again. I went over all of the tips he'd given me. Could I possibly fall again?
I did.
I hate skiing.
I don't really...but this is now becoming a bit of an Achilles heel. This ski weekend was 3 weeks ago and I still find myself going over and over this in my head. I even contemplated waiting at the top of the hill until the lifts close so I could just climb on the platform and try until I got it. But I didn't do that...I just went back to the condo...defeated
So all in all...I think I like skiing. But if I can't get off the chair what am I to do?
This time I figured I would try skiing. Everyone said that it was much faster to learn...they were so right. This doesn't mean that there weren't moments of panic and scenes of complete chaos, despite the fact that I didn't have a snowboard strapped to my feet.
Because we are new to winter sports we rent our equipment. We were helped by the friendly staff at the rental place and I told her what shoe size I wore and out came my ski boots to try on.
I put them on and noticed that they felt uncomfortable. She told me to stand up in them and squat forward in a skiing position. My feet slid forward and they felt ok. So on they went and we headed outside with all of our equipment.
We had decided that instead of signing me up for a lesson, my husband who is a competent skier would just give me some tips...that mostly you just needed repetition to learn how to ski. He told me how to clip the skis into the bindings and told me the basics of what I should try to do.
At this point I could feel the circulation in my feet was diminishing. A slight tingling in my toes was a little bit alarming but everyone looked so ridiculous walking in ski boots I thought everyone must be feeling this way. I mentioned that my feet were starting to hurt and everyone told me that ski boots were uncomfortable...but that it shouldn't actually hurt. I took a moment to assess whether what I was feeling was discomfort or pain. I thought it pretty much felt like pain...but I really wanted to get to the skiing part of things so I thought I would just suck it up and continue.
The first few minutes of skiing were uneventful. I practiced the snow plow. I was feeling pretty steady. Then for no apparent reason I fell down. No big deal. It was a way nicer fall than the snowboard falls had been. People were giving me helpful hints as to how I could get back up but it wasn't really working. My heart sank as I thought about another day spent like a turtle on my back...unable to right myself without a lot of assistance from someone else. Out of frustration I just used my poles to un-clip my feet and got up. I could live with this. At least I could do this independently.
I made my way to the ski lift and got in line. Everyone said that getting on and off the ski lift was so much easier on skis than on a snowboard. Thank god for that because I wasn't sure I could take anymore humiliation in that department. I felt pretty good as I saw my husband and daughter board their chair and head up the mountain. Getting on the chair was a snap...I was feeling awesome...I was going to be an amazing skier...I could just feel it.
I enjoyed the assent up the hill, now trusting that the whole contraption wasn't going to collapse. I visualized my dismount...thinking 'how hard could this be...you stand up and glide down off the landing platform.' The fact that I had ski poles comforted me in that I could take my time and use them to propel myself forward if I stalled on the platform.
It was my turn...I stood up. I could not believe it when I found myself in a heap at the bottom of the off-ramp. What the hell?? Luckily there were several empty chairs behind me so no one was going to run over me. Once again, I used my poles to undo my bindings and rolled out of the way.
My husband and daughter waited patiently for me as I then had to put my skis back on...I could see a look of disgust pass briefly over their faces. They were trying to be supportive though and soon the three of us were on our way down the easiest green run.
It actually went very well. I never fell...I felt confident that I wasn't going to bowl anyone else over. Basically I could maintain some semblance of control as we skied down.
At one point I saw my family disappear ahead of me. They seemed to have dropped down a worm hole. As I got closer to where they vanished I realized that they had just skied down a very steep part of the run. I stopped and had a small panic attack as I stared down this slope. There was no way in god's green earth I would make it down alive. Not to mention that it was heavily populated at the bottom. I pictured myself in a gigantic Shaggy and Scooby-doo snowball with skis and poles sticking out of it barrelling down the mountain.
Although I enjoy making people laugh, I decided this wasn't how I wanted to do that. I unclipped and loped down the hill as my legs felt like they were being sawed off at the shins. These boots were just ridiculous.
After seeing how I was walking in them, my husband advised me that I looked like I was in pain. YES! I was, indeed, in pain.
I left my family to the slopes and headed back into the rental place. As soon as I got the right boots on my whole day turned around. THIS is why people can ski all day long...they can maintain circulation to their feet! Aha! It all made way more sense.
I met up with the family and my lesson continued. As we neared the bunny hill I put my skis back on. After a few pointers my coach/husband decided it was time to head down.
There were people everywhere. All of a sudden the hill looked very steep. I had a small tantrum there in front of the four year olds who seemed to be managing all of this much better than I was. My husband pointed out that this was, after all, a bunny hill. If I couldn't handle this then my hopes of making the 2014 Winter Olympics seemed very dim indeed.
Very patiently, he waited while I stopped whining and stomping my feet and actually focused on the task at hand. In the largest snow plow ever achieved, I slowly skidded down the hill until I reached a bit of a flat part. My daughter had zoomed ahead so I was left alone for a bit. I watched my family as they went down the hill and that was the motivation I needed...I wanted to catch up to them.
Once I was left on my own I was able to figure out this sport without the humiliation and self-consciousness that learning in front of other people always provides me. I actually was doing pretty good. I felt in control...that the small children in my midst would perhaps survive the day without the Indiana Jones experience of running for your life as a huge (snow covered) ball barrels towards you threatening to crush your bones to dust.
After a successful run down the bunny hill we ran into some friends at the bottom. As I stood still...chatting to my friend...I fell down. Just like that! One minute I was up...the next I wasn't up anymore. Another friend who was in the chair lift over head saw us and got quite a kick out of the fact that I didn't get back up. I continued the conversation lying spread eagle in the snow. I explained that I figured I would only fall down again if I stood up, so I felt it was somehow less embarrassing to just lie there...like I'd planned it that way all along. Just to cover my tracks I think I will try to lie down more often while people are talking to me. It was actually quite comfy down there. Unfortunately for my daughter, while I was still lying like I was about to make a snow-angel whilst carrying on a conversation, we ran into one of her friends from school. I'm sure she wasn't too impressed that we had more witnesses...I'm sure her friend wasn't either.
Eventually I did get up and we all got back in line for the chair lift.
Again, I enjoyed my ride up the hill. The thought of getting off the lift hadn't even entered my head. The first time was just a fluke...everyone says how easy it is to dismount in skis. As I stood up I really believed 100% that I was just going to ski off into the distance like everyone else.
My daughter was standing with her friend at the top by the time it was my turn to get off. They were going to be so impressed by me...oh ya...this would be the sexiest dismount ever.
As I fell, my eyes locked onto my daughter's friend's...the look on his face was one I had never seen before. It was like he had caught me being spoon fed as I sat in a great big high chair with a great big bib on. I am an adult...adults don't fall down on the top of the easiest chair on the mountain. Adults pick up the little kids that fall...at the very least, adults know how to stand up with skis on. Well...not this adult. Now I was mad. What was wrong with me! It is a 2 foot little ramp. It's not like I'm trying to ski down K2 or something.
At this point, it was decided that everyone except me was going to go down the harder baby run...I was happy to be going in the opposite direction. I couldn't stand to see that look on any more faces...that look of pity and disgust.
I am happy to report that I nailed my run...I didn't fall...I figured out how to do nice easy turns...I didn't really need to snow plow ever...I just skied. It was great. So great, in fact, that I skied right to the lift and headed up to do it all again.
I did some deep breathing...I decided that I had simply psyched myself out about getting off. I told myself "Self...it is nothing but a tiny little ramp. It isn't better than you...you are better than IT! This ramp has nothing on you. This ramp is what is standing between you and greatness...you shall overcome!"
Thank god it was a different person running the chair at the top...that made me feel better too. He assumed that I was just another skier...not the complete lunatic who can't get off the green chair.
I fell again. This really wasn't funny anymore. I was PISSED! He asked if I was ok. "YES!" I snapped at him as I jabbed at my stupid bindings with my stupid poles like a stupid idiot. I was so violently having a go at them that I'm sure I looked a little like Norman Bates in Psycho, plunging his knife into an innocent victim. At this point I felt like I was frustrated enough to give ol' Norman a run for his money.
I stood up and said, "why the hell can't I get off this chair??!!" Instead of leaving me to my misery, the lift operator had lots of good suggestions. I told him I would see him in 10 minutes and I fled down the hill, determined that I would figure this out before I turned in for the day.
Up I went again. I went over all of the tips he'd given me. Could I possibly fall again?
I did.
I hate skiing.
I don't really...but this is now becoming a bit of an Achilles heel. This ski weekend was 3 weeks ago and I still find myself going over and over this in my head. I even contemplated waiting at the top of the hill until the lifts close so I could just climb on the platform and try until I got it. But I didn't do that...I just went back to the condo...defeated
So all in all...I think I like skiing. But if I can't get off the chair what am I to do?
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