We’ve been taking downhill ski lessons as a family this winter, on Saturday mornings at Mount Packenham. I thought they’d be ripe, RIPE, with blogging fodder, because the fact that I am not sporty is one of the Funamental Laws of the Universe, plus there’s the fact that I hate winter and it’s been, on average, -25 degrees Celcius every single Saturday morning since the holidays, plus there’s the fact that my three eager children can ski circles around me, resulting in bitterness.
However, I have had very little to say on this subject because it’s really been…fine.
Sure, there are things I do not like, and actually here I have to admit I kind of dread going to the hill every Saturday. It’s a lot of work getting us and all our gear and all our food to the hill, and then I have to be in a full-on panic for an hour and a half as I have freakout after freakout on the ski lift and the hill. And I am the weakest in my class, so that always creates guilt and stress (although my classmates have been nothing but supportive and helpful). Plus, we are all so wiped out from a day of skiing that most of the rest of the weekend is a write-off – I can usually manage groceries but any other errands or to-do items are just getting dropped as we spend the day napping and popping Advil for our sore legs.
But there’s also the fact that we can head out as a family, and the kids really love it, and it’s lovely to see them doing something fun and active all together. Sir Monkeypants has been fantastic, knowing how much I was going to hate it – he’s bought me every single accessory that could make my ski day more pleasant (hello, world’s most expensive balaclava) and he packs up all my stuff every Friday night and when we get to the hill he makes sure I am suited up and doing okay. And I am getting better, SLOWLY, bit by bit, every week, so there’s life skill and accomplishment bonus points.
The best part is after our lessons and lunch, when we go back out together for a couple of runs before going home, and my kids are all instructive – giving me tips on how to get off the chair lift, telling me which runs I should be able to handle, laying a comforting hand on my arm and telling me they know I can do it. I am a tentative and terrible skier but I often play it up even more just so they all have some teaching and comforting to do.
So in the end it works out kind of balanced. Fine, really. Just fine. Not great, not dreadful, just…fine.
Still, I have to admit, the idea of sitting in the lodge all day with a hot chocolate and a book also seems like it would be…fine. I’d go all the way to fine AND dandy on that one.