Ski Weekend

So now that my son likes cold, snowy whether, the question is will he like skiing? As you read this I am heading north on the New York State Throughway to a little ski resort about an hour over the Massachusetts border. There, we will welcome in a New Year with sore muscles but also with copious amounts of soda, Pringles and raucous rounds of Old Maid.

Over past years my son has gone skiing many times. My husband skis and intends to force our children to whether they like it or not. Vovie, in fact, loves to go skiing, he just doesn’t like to ski.

Mostly, he loves the hotel rooms, the bottomless cups of hot chocolate, the hot tubs and the stuffing himself full of all the junk food allowed on vacations. He just doesn’t like to ski. But this is almost a new year and definitely a new Vovie. Maybe this year is the year – the year my kids don’t cry when we wrap them layers of fleece and thermal, hats and helmets, gloves and goggles and shove them into heavy, rigid plastic boots and attach them to unwieldy planks and then push them out into the bitter cold. I really don’t see what the problem is.

Last year my daughter found she could gain enough velocity to sail down the mountain at mach speed, and she was sold on the sport. Then, she only cried when my husband forced her to go to ski school. Vovie, though, cried when he was skiing with us, cried when he was told he was going to ski school, cried in ski school. And I really couldn’t blame the kid. Skiing is hard enough for an able-bodied adult, and by that I mean someone in their twenties. Skiing in your thirties is nothing like skiing in your twenties. I found that out the hard way. Half the times I wanted to cry. I had to manage two little kids, their skis, my skis, my ski poles, my fogged up googles and manipulating the ski lift in sub-zero temperatures. Boy, it was fun!

But there are those moments – at the top of the hill with stunning vistas all around, cruising along a quiet, narrow ski path lined with snowy white evergreens or gliding down a steep slope at speeds way too fast for the human body – and you’re free.

That is, until you crash. But it’s worth it. So wish me luck. Talk to you next year.

(Photo: Flickr/PhareannaH[berhabuk])

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