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I must be kinda dense. I don't know why anyone wouldn't enjoy doing something like this. Thanks to MommieN. for joining me on yet another adventure.This little day trip couldn't have come at a much better time. My kids were getting ready to leave on a ski trip for the week...something I've got completely irrational paranoia about...and birthday season always has me a little stressed out. Just one more birthday to go, thank goodness. I'm looking forward to ice skating this weekend with a bunch of 8- and 9-year-olds, but that just means I've got a cake to get started on.

I don't talk about it too often because it makes me a buzzkill, but I really hate skiing. I hate just about everything about it. I enjoy the "whee!" factor a bit, but not enough to overcome the things I just detest...the cold, the people constantly threatening to run me down, my own lack of skill and confidence.

So, when the kids came back on Friday, I snuggled up to Mam one evening and told her I felt badly that both my kids love something so much that I really don't enjoy. I said that I'd missed them and that it was strange to be here all by myself. I didn't say so, but I really don't enjoy being the odd person out either.

"Well, it's kind of like hiking, Mom," Mam said, trying to placate me. "You really like that and we DON'T."

I didn't know what to say. Mam was obviously unclear that my problem had more to do with spending activity time alone than with not having an activity to do. I might've preferred a stake through the heart to a declaration that no one likes hiking but me. 

How in the world did I produce these people?? And what am I going to do with them for a weekend in this same state park this summer?

Ski Week

Ah, Winter Break. After the rush of Smunch's birthday and his big Jackie Robinson presentation, the break from school was most welcome. If you live around here, you've doubtlessly heard this week called "ski week". It starts with President's Day weekend and goes for the rest of the week.

Since I'm one of those inflexible kind of moms who don't believe in pulling my kids out of school for something like a ski trip, we go to the snow during ski week. I've figured out a way to make this work for us. We leave on President's Day and come back on Friday, missing the entirety of the weekend traffic. I'd booked our cabin back in October, I think, so we were set.

I love the little cabin we've found. It's old and shabby, but warm, incredibly well stocked and with enough bedrooms for the kids to each have their own. Oh, and it's cheap. Did I mention that?

So, we headed up on Monday. There was no traffic to speak of. We made it to the cabin before the cleaning crew was even finished. So, we sat outside for a minute or two and then moved right in. We went into Tahoe City and picked up all our ski rentals. The kids had reservations for a private lesson at Squaw on Tuesday and I was planning on a group lesson while Daddy cruised around the slopes freely. Although we were staying about half an hour away, we got there without incident, negotiated the rather huge resort and found all our lessons on time.The kids went off with Celeste, their very awesome instructor. I joined a Level 2 class and we took off up to High Camp where we had our skills assessed before learning anything. There were four women in my class. I enjoyed them all and Curtis, our instructor, seemed good, but the class wasn't really what I'd hoped for. Instead of learning anything new, we rehashed all the stuff I already knew how to do. It meant I got some instruction on how to refine the "skills" I arguably possess, but not much more.

And it was COLD up there at High Camp. I'd purchased nice ski pants and a new ski jacket before leaving. I was wearing four more layers of clothes under that, but I was freezing and traveling the lifts was particularly painful. Despite my nice new ski gloves, my fingernails felt like they just might pop right off. They hurt.

The kids arrived at High Camp shortly after I did. I saw them several times as I skiied down the beginner slopes.I didn't enjoy myself very much even though I was in good company, but I agreed to go back up with Daddy and the kids after lunch. It was windier and colder. I was with Mam and she'd been trying to tell me something about being bored, but truth be told, I'm scared to death of ski lifts and I was barely listening to her. I should have.

It turns out what she meant was that her lessons about making big S-turns were boring and she planned to take off like a shot from the top of the run. And she did. I sent Daddy after her, but she was already at the bottom.

I took a couple of runs and then left them all up there...while I went back down the mountain, grabbed my laptop and found myself a cushy chair and a $6 mocha at Starbucks.

Half an hour or so later, I got a call from Daddy. He'd overshot the Funitel that would have taken them down the mountain and ended up on an intermediate slope. The kids had done a good job negotiating it for a while, but finally gave out. Ski Patrol was coming to pick them up. They'd be late getting back. I laughed. I was so comfy at Starbucks that I didn't mind if they were late and obviously Daddy had it handled. He called me again when they were down.

I met him and a couple of hysterically sobbing kids on the way to the parking lot. They were totally fine, but Daddy had had to ski down the mountain while Ski Patrol whisked them away on a snowmobile for a lonely trip to the bottom on the Funitel. Daddy met them there, but their little hands were so cold that they really hurt. And the sobbing went on and on for at least 15 minutes. Given my general love for skiing (which, for the record is still non-existant) I tried really hard not to laugh as they sobbed.

Despite the slighly traumatic end to our day on Tuesday, the kids were rarin' to go again on Wednesday and I was game to take another stab at enjoying skiing. We headed to Homewood...which is smaller, shabbier and a whole lot cheaper. It also happens to have beautiful views and some nice, long beginner runs, all the way from the top of the mountain.As expected, Mam has become a fearless little skiier while her brother, so much more like his mom, is ever-so-cautious. But Daddy helped them along. And I followed them around the mountain. I think we hit every beginner run there was. The kids seemed to have fun. But I most certainly didn't. I'm clearly not cut out for this stuff. I don't like being cold, I don't like going fast, I hate ski lifts, I don't like people coming up behind me at 50mph. Oh, and I'm not a fan of wiping out.

My overdeveloped sense of self-preservation, I'm afraid, will forever keep me from enjoying skiing. I quit at lunchtime and spent a couple of hours reading in the car...because Homewood is too shabby to have decent indoor places for those who aren't skiing and certainly no Starbucks! The van was comfier. And after skiing for the morning, I was pretty convinced that this is going to be my last ski trip. Daddy can take the kids, but this is such a monumental waste of money for me...

Like Riding a Bicycle

I really enjoyed reading by the fire (or at least the wood burning stove) while the rest of my family was skiing. Had I stayed at the cabin and read my book, maybe I would have felt differently. But by the time my family showed back up, I was feeling sort of left out. I don't know why. It's not like the kids were thrilled with their first day on skis. I guess it just bugs me to be sitting around relaxing while everyone else is doing something a whole lot more active, even if it's just falling down.

I don't really know what transpired that made the kids eschew their plans for sledding and snowman-building and decide they wanted to go skiing again the next day. Smunch was still coughing up a storm. I suspect he was sleeping poorly, but our bedroom was far enough from his that we couldn't hear him.

We had breakfast at our favorite little breakfast spot, went to the local ski rental shop and took advantage of the "super bro" pricing our cabin "host" (who owns the cabin as his main residence, but moves into his production studio downstairs when he rents the house out...it's a strange situation as renters) said we could get by mentioning his name. Went back to the cabin to get everything else we needed an headed back to the same resort we went to the previous day.

This time, the kids had no lessons, so Daddy and I both skiied the bunny slope with them...for hours. Naturally, that sat just fine with me. I'm a hazard on anything much more complex than a bunny slope. It also gave us a chance to try and teach the kids a few more skills...which is sort of a joke for whatever kid was with me at any given time. They'll both overtake me in no time. Still, I was surprised to find that I hadn't really forgotten anything I'd learned about skiing...on those two days I went skiing...18 years ago.

By the time the lifts closed, Mam was whizzing down the hill. She even made it several times without falling, even if I was cringing at her lack of turns. Smunch, on the other hand, bailed out any time he started turning, so he fell a lot more than his sister. He may have learned a lot and had a good time, but still sick, he was in frustrated tears before the rest of us finished and threw a massive tantrum when he'd spent too much time brooding and missed the last minutes of lift time. Oh well.

There is no photographic evidence that any of this ever occurred (although there are rumors of video evidence). I admit I didn't hate skiing. But that's as far as I'm willing to make concessions.

The Winter Olympics have been on this whole time, of course. It brings a whole new perspective to what people can do in the snow...

We returned to another ear infection. Other child. We'll be done with antibiotics someday, maybe...

Living Up to Ski Week

I love Lake Tahoe in the winter. It's painfully pretty. But then, it's often pretty darned cold too. And I'm not a skiier. So, that generally leaves me sipping hot chocolate by the fire.

But in our little corner of California, we have this funny little week off school in the middle of February. Although in our district, it's technically known as Winter Break, everyone calls it Ski Week. That's because they instituted this break to try and keep the families around here from pulling their kids out of school to go skiing. Don't know how well that works.

Last year, we did go to Tahoe during Ski Week, but there was no skiing involved, just sledding. This year was different, although it turned out that Daddy had unknowingly booked a cabin just a few doors down from the one we rented last year. The drive in was easy. It wasn't snowing. It was warm and the roads were very, very clear. It was sunny every day and there was significantly less snow when we left than when we got there.

And this year, we were there for Smunch's birthday. For his birthday, he and Mam went to ski school at one of the smaller, lower-key resorts.The outcome of a day worth of ski school was somewhat predictable. Smunch wasn't in the greatest of health (or mood) for starters. He's not fearless. He's cautious. He gets frustrated easily. I talked to him at lunchtime and he wasn't altogether thrilled with the experience.

Mam, on the other hand. Well Mam is fearless, she's almost always in a good mood and although she's easily frustrated, she bounces back quickly.Smunch was tired and grumpy at the end of the day. Mam was just tired. It didn't seem like either of them had really learned a whole lot, each of them falling several times on the way down the tiny little slope in the lesson area. But they could stay up on skis for a few seconds, at least.Daddy went skiing on his own while the kids were in ski school. Me? I took a book and sat by the fire reading when I wasn't out tromping around trying to find the kids with my telephoto lens. There was a lot more reading than photography.

With two exhausted kids, we left as soon as ski school got out. We went back to the cabin and jumped in the hot tub (which turned out to be way too hot) and appreciated our view for a little while...

Super Sled

Since I have my own deep-seeded fear of skiing, I'm not particularly anxious to have the kids learn. And, honestly, it was just so nice to kick back and be in no hurry to get anywhere during our whole trip, that I'm inclined to keep it that way. Of course, that almost certainly isn't going to happen. Daddy did go up for a half day of skiing at Squaw Valley. He had a blast.

I had a blast reading my book while Daddy skiied...interrupted at intervals by one or another kid-related incident in the snow outside the cabin. There was some significant screaming and crying and a memorable moment of Mam banging on the cabin door screaming "EMERGENCY, EMERGENCY!!!".

The emergency...which, in truth, was indeed a minor emergency, turned out to be that Smunch had fallen down a hole in the snow next to the cabin and couldn't get himself out. It was even a little bit of an effort for me to drag him out. Sometimes it's nice to have two kids who have an interest in taking care of each other...even as they beat each other up.

Mam managed to give me her cold right before we left for the mountains, so my enthusiasm for snow play was a bit limited. I was glad I'd thought to bring all the ingredients for homemade chicken soup...and a bunch of tea bags for sitting by the fire, reading and sipping.

Daddy was there for much of our time around the cabin, of course and he orchestrated two really killer sled runs for the whole family. The first was right across the street, on a rather steep hill that was several feet deep in snow. We all went out and had a lot of fun sledding down, even though we had more than our share of wipeouts.Well, O.K., maybe that was just me.

Mam seemed to have a great time sledding, squealing all the way down the hill, but she wasn't nearly as interested walking back up the hill and repeating the exercise over and over again as her brother was. She preferred just to sit happily in the snow in her snow bib.By my last sled run of the second day, also on this steep hill, the snow on the trees had melted enough to turn the snow below to ice and one leap into the air and crash to the ice took my tailbone out of commission for the rest of the trip. Ouch! I still haven't quite recovered. From time to time, you can see me go to sit down and pop back up like I've sat on a tack. But no, it's just that bruised rear end of mine.

While Daddy was skiing, I introduced the kids to a far simpler form of sledding, since I wasn't about to chaperone a sled trip on my own...especially as the wipeout queen. Instead, I showed them how to sled down the ramp of snow that the plow left at the end of the driveway.Even though it made for a short sled run, it also meant they could do it by themselves, they could go down head first if they wanted and it wasn't much of a hike to get back to the top.

One of the other things we never got the opportunity to do on our trip back in December was build a snowman. The kids had really wanted to do that. This time, I didn't let them miss out. We started this one on our first day, but the snow was so powdery that it really didn't stick together well...hence the lumpy appearance of this guy. But we had fun putting this one together and my soup ingredients came in handy yet again.S/he does have arms, but Mam insisted on using sticks for arms and they just don't show up with the background.

I don't think we'll make it back up to the snow again this year. I've got plans for camping come spring break, assuming it's not too cold. But I have a new appreciation for vacationing in the winter. We had a great time and really did everything we wanted to do. Next time, though, Smunch says he's going skiing.