Just for the Fun or The Things a Mom Does for Her Kids

This weekend the family will go skiing. A few months ago a dear friend asked me if we would like to go with them to Okemo, Vermont. We did it a couple of years ago and had a blast, so I jumped at the chance. Believe me, it couldn't have been better timed if I had tried. I mean, my brain is about to go belly up and my new crime story is making me sweat bricks. Who knew writing outside your comfort zone will be so hard?

Anyway, I'm happy and positive that the brake will work wonders on me. I can already picture myself going down the slope. Yeah, you read that right, I said slope. The shortest, easiest, like one degree more of inclination than the kiddy slope. That's my ride. Nope, I don't really sky that well and nope, I'm not ashamed that my eight-year-old will son go down harder rides than mine. I'm self-assured like that.

In fact, I'm terrified of heights, reason why the lifts make my heart pound like crazy. I also have a mini heart attack every time I have to go off the damn thing. I mean, would it take too long if you just stopped the thing for a second so I don't have to jump off with everyone still in my way? Also, why would you put a blue slope, or sometimes a black (!!), so close to the landing spot? I can picture myself stumbling to my death down a hill designed for Shaun White.

The worst part? I've seen both things happened to friends of mine. No, no one died on a black slope! But he had to slide on his behind aaaall the way down. On the other hand, we--his 'friends'--had a lot of fun watching him from the lift. You'd think he'd hide in the car after that, but no. He got back on the lift and waved us a very colorful hand sign.

That same weekend, another friend of mine, this time a girl, just never gather up the nerve to jump off the lift. It wasn't her first time that day--though it was her first time skiing--but she just couldn't make it and as the lift took her back down, the guy controlling the thing stopped it for her. Very entertaining for us again, not so much for her.

Oh, and my sister! Paola is a menace to every skier on the hills. We took classes together the first time she tried, my future husband, her, and me. After two hours, we decided we were ready and wanted to try an easy hill. The future hubby went first and stopped midway to check on my sister and me. Paola, who was before me, realized she couldn't move sideways to zigzag down the hill, so she went in a straight line like a comet. As she passed by my future hubby she screamed: "I don't know how to stop!" A second later she was on the snow with both skis off, somehow.

We helped her up, told her how to zigzag, and there she went. Again in a straight line at light-speed. A poor lady that was going from right to left just happened to turn at the worst possible moment and her skis tangled with my sister's. That didn't end well, obviously, but you know what they say, if at first you don't succeed... Well, they shouldn't have told that to my sister.

She tried once more and this time she missed collision with the same lady! Sadly, the woman got toppled over anyway when my sister went on top her skis. Paola couldn't stop, so she simply went on, fast as a bullet. And even though she yelled "I'm sorry!" I doubt the lady appreciated it. That was it, my sister never tried skiing again. Thankfully.

With all that in mind, I really don't mind going down the greenest of the slopes and would even consider using the kids' slope, but they don't let me. And despite all this, I do have fun, and the best part is spending time with the family. Looking at my young offsprings all excited heals my heart of every mini-arrest and puts a smile on my face.

Ah, the memories...