Taking Little Children Skiing on Powder Days

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Brev Chairlist IMG_0485 Tuck IMG_0511Rising to a snow storm, I sluggishly forced myself out of bed keeping my eyes half closed as I crawled on all fours into the bathroom. The full moon had as usual tilted me on my axis and I was up all night writing. Sometimes the full moon has me waking the boys to run outside naked at midnight amongst the silhouetted mountains, other times it would be best if somebody took me out to the woods far, far away and left me with a good book, a pen and a ream of paper, my music and a wood burning stove to keep me warm…oh, and wine and cheese, and a cashmere blanket…and some hot stud who finds my insanity sexy.

It was going to be the perfect powder day for the masses who have moved here for a day like today, but not for those of us who had little children with quads yet developed for billowing snow pillows.  Nine inches to me with little kids meant enduring in the gondola line overly hyperactive, gortex-laden, childless “boy-men”, reminding me of my sordid past, as I wait to hand the torch (and the kids) over to Baddy. I envisioned myself in the gondola line singing lalalalala into the ears of my boys as these  self-proclaimed “mountain men living to to ski and skiing to live,” share their enthusiasm for all the pow pow, “BRAAAAHHHH”…. “DUUUUDE, FUUCKKK!!!!”

Baddy was however, chomping at the bit to meld in with all of the testosterone injected energy and plunge into the untracked powder. His plan? Laps in powder until wife and kids show up and then take over so mommy can get some. He didn’t seem to notice me lurking in the shadows with hair larger than usual, fangs extracted. My thoughts growled desires for him to take the boys with him. Maybe, if I stood still long enough focusing on these thoughts, they would enter his brain as if they were his own and he would sweep up his pups and save them from the she-wolf, but his mind was elsewhere and he was not going to let anything darken his lit up interior and off he galloped into the storm, leaving me heaving and despondent, froth foaming between my lips.

When yet another loud sword-bearing rowdy boy was dropped off  later in the morning, I poked my head out of my office from where I was writing. “Don’t worry,” I assured the dad, “I will get out of my pj’s and take the boys skiing”. He looked at me with a glimpse of recognition that perhaps his boy was not safe but clouded by the 9″s of snow on his brain, high-tailed it out the door.

I somehow gathered myself together and loaded up the boys and all of our equipment into Vini-Man. The youngest, still biologically connected to his mother’s moods, was being extremely sensitive and needy, melting into a puddle at any beastly sign emitting from his monster of a mother and asking for hugs. But beasts are not inclined to hug when their fangs are out while wrestling and getting banged up with the attempt to load unyielding ski equipment and so he ran off to the sound of  “mother fucking fuck fuck” gurgling from the depths of the mom-beast.

I found him lying on his back in his freshly laundered ski clothes, smack dab in the middle of a cold, wet, mud splatch. Looking up at me with those luminous hootie-hoo eyes he said, “hi mother fucking fuck fuck”. We are all going to damage our kids in one way or another –  that moment was not the denouement, there were surely more to come.

I finally managed to get the boys all into the gondola line when I realized that my ski ticket was no longer valid. Too late, the boys were already on the lift. I turned around and in disbelief saw Baddy quietly standing there watching the whole debacle. “You’re on” I said and slunk away. With icicles hanging from his beard Baddy took the torch and ran with it. I plugged in my ipod and began my skin up the mountain slowly shedding my furry burden of an exterior.

An hour and a half later I returned to the family apologizing for being psycho mom and my bad behavior was shoved under lock and key. The boys forgave me and climbed into my lap.

Tonight, I will try my best to get a good night’s sleep and not let the moon wreak havoc on my temperate again. Hopefully, I will not wake up to a pile of bones laying next to me and human hair betwixt my teeth.

5 COMMENTS

  1. It is positively a trip to be daily entertained with my daughter-in-law’s colorful blogs about my brilliant and adorable grandsons and her wonderful husband, my son. It just doesn’t get better than this; Jillian, keep writing. Love you!

  2. […] not myself right now. If you’ll remember the post I wrote around this time last year titled, I ATE MY KIDS, you’ll know that this happens to me every year directly before my birthday for some […]

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