Ski ya later! Have I mentioned how much I love ski school?

Turns out my children ski like their personalities.

Maybe all of us skiers ski like our personalities and I just have no self-awareness of what that looks like for me.

Heading into our ski weekend, BB’s biggest fear was that her younger sister would surpass her in their ski school levels.

It was not an unwarranted concern since that is exactly what happened two years ago.

BUT turns out when you don’t ski for two years, a 9-year-old has much better retention than a 6-year-old.

So BB started out at a level above RB and stayed that way even when they both moved up. I’m very grateful for this. My sanity is desperate for anything that mitigates sibling rivalry.

We’re still joking (not joking), that we need two cats.

We did two days of ski school and one day skiing as a family. It far exceeded my expectations, especially after a rough start.

It began with BB being beyond anxious. Our ten day trip with seven ski days in the Alps is around the corner, so it’s not an ideal time to have a kid who doesn’t like skiing.

BB ended her day in smiles, with her instructor raving about her confidence. And to think I was just hoping she’d be willing to ski again.

By the time the third day of skiing rolled around and we headed out as a family, I couldn’t believe how happy everyone was. Usually we have no shortage of little people willing to complain about anything at any point: socks, temperature, a sister’s suspect facial expressions.

So to be in our ski gear, headed out the door, all smiles at 8am, was truly a miracle.

And too good to be true.

RB mentioned that her instructor was helping her with the chairlift. That’s all I needed to hear to grab her arm and make sure she got on the chair. Then as we approached disembarkation many many feet off the ground, the bar was raised and I put my arm in front of RB. She shoved it aside and declared,

“I can do it myself!”

We hadn’t even started our first run and I was ready to put her back in ski school.

Twelve years ago when Captain and I were dating we skied at Sunday River all the time. I knew my way around the mountain. My brain seems to have decided that that information was not worth retaining.

On our third evening, BB sat down to make a plan for our final day. She rattled off a list of runs, the order we would ski them and which one to take to get to the next one as well as which lifts we needed to be on. I stared at her in shock and said to Captain,

“Can you believe she knows all the names of the runs and how to get everywhere?”

Captain replied,

“I didn’t even see any names. Were there signs?”

Yes! There were signs! This is what happens when you ski without your readers.

He can’t see the signs and I can’t remember them, maybe we do need to ski with our children more.

Or maybe not based on RB’s behavior. BB was the agreed upon leader but then RB followed so closely she was running her over every two seconds. We tried to let RB lead, but apparently she turns only when there’s someone in front of her.

So Captain took the lead and RB did her best to run him over. I stayed as far away from her as possible and brought up the rear.

RB leaned back in an extra wide parallel stance and was out of sight in a minute. BB made careful, parallel turns. She was leaning forward, using her edges, her technique looked amazing.

This is who they are. RB couldn’t care less about rules. Turn while skiing? Not she, but she’s happy to remind BB to.

Meanwhile BB was following every single rule her instructor imparted upon her. As we spent what felt like five years getting down the mountain, I could see her working on everything she ever learned.

The way they ski is the same way they return home from school.

They ride the same bus and get off at the same stop. RB storms through the front door, goes to the bathroom, eats her snack and is playing toys by the time BB meanders in.

I am very curious about what version of RB they had in ski school. As I snuggled her in bed she said,

“My instructor got irritated with me once.”

“He did?”

“He said I was going too fast.”

“Yeah?”

“I had to go fast because it went down then up to a jump.”

“What happened?”

“I landed it and he said that it was pretty good.”

Great. Positive reinforcement for skiing like a lunatic.

RB adds,

“Why would I go slow? That would be silly.”

Very silly indeed.

Both girls had so much fun they didn’t want to leave.

It’s such a relief that we’re all excited for seven ski days in the Alps and the good news is we have six days of ski school.

Skiing with kids: send beer. I’ll be in the hot tub

Ski weekend success!

Such a small sentence to encompass SO MUCH EFFORT. Any activity that involves the words: “kids” and “gear,” is bound to be work.

This weekend was our warm-up run… It was our first go of what will be all four of us on the slopes for February vacation.

This weekend was our chance to iron out the kinks. Or at least identify the kinks and adjust my expectations. Some things are resistant to ironing.

We lucked out and got to stay with amazing friends. Our last ski trip was February 2020, weeks before the world shut down. BB was 3.5 years old and RB was 4 months old.

So the last time BB and I skied was 3 years ago. The last time Captain telemarked was 9 years ago. The last time he snowboarded was so long ago he never came up with a timeline, maybe 15 years ago.

Captain decided he’d snowboard. Telemarking tore his ACL and he does NOT want to go through that again. NOR DO I. There may be nothing more mind numbing than hearing two people compare ACL surgery notes.

It was Captain’s favorite conversation starter for awhile, and there are a surprising number of people out there with ACL stories. I’m sure it’s only getting worse as we descend deep into middle-age.

For February vacation, I reserved ski school for both kids, but this past weekend the ski school started at age four. RB’s options were childcare, private lessons or somehow convincing her she’s four, but still poops in a diaper.

RB has something of a Napoleon complex. After every meal, she stands up and checks to see if she’s grown. Her goal is to be big enough to go in BB’s art room.

RB finished her breakfast the other day and hopped out of her seat. She looked up to see where she stood in relation to the kitchen counter. Her eyes welled up and she hung her head in a huge mope,

“I’m still little!”

I knew deep in my soul that I would break her if she went into daycare while BB skied. I also knew deep in my soul that I would break if I tried to teach her myself. Private lesson booked for Saturday.

As it was, I didn’t book a private lesson for her on Sunday, just daycare and she was MAD. As we left the condo she kept yelling at us,

“I need my ski boots! I need my helmet! I need my mittens!”

“No. You’re not going skiing.”

Cue full-on guttural wail.

She finally calmed down to the tune of me telling her over and over again,

“You’ll be skiing all week in Canada.”

Saturday apres-ski, the adults slipped into the hot tub, while the kids watched a movie. I had warned BB ahead of time about this situation, but was silly enough to think RB wouldn’t notice. After a glorious soak, I floated back into the condo. RB’s head swiveled around,

“You went in the hot pool?”

“Yes.”

“I want to go in the hot pool!”

“Adults only.”

“I WANT TO GO IN THE HOT POOL!!!”

“In Canada.”

Canada has become my safe word.

Captain and I were reunited on the mountain. Skiing is how we met and to be together again made every tantrum more than worth it. Also stopping midday and realizing, that between ski school and daycare, we had bought ourselves a lunch date, was miraculous.

When we picked BB up from ski school Saturday she melted down. She thought she was going to ski with us. We promised to pick her up early Sunday and make it happen.

Sunday her ski instructor told me,

“She’s made a lot of progress and is turning well.”

Great news! We head for the lift. I can’t believe I’m on a lift with my kiddo! She tells us she wants to lead.

She heads straight off the lift and straight down the mountain. Power pizza all the way.

On the next run, I suggest,

“Lets do some turns.”

BB starts to sob,

“I don’t want to turn!”

And I wanted this to be fun. I back off my grand idea of turning and follow behind BB’s wedge as she plows the snow straight to the bottom.

We pick up RB from childcare. She yells,

“Is it Canada time?!!”

You don’t need me to tell you how this ended.

Circa 1997. They say Tremblant is cold, so I may need to wear this onesie again. Never mind that it looks like onesies are back in fashion? RB loves hers
How we got into this mess.