This past weekend marked the one-year anniversary of the first time my mother rented a house in the White Mountains, which means it also marked the one-year anniversary of our first attempt at strapping a pair of skis on Zan and getting him to take his first lesson.
On that first occasion, he seemed interested in the concept until it came time for us to send him off with the instructors and other students, at which point he melted a gaping hole in the mountainside and made it clear that the parents-can’t-stay-with-you ski lesson was not going to be happening, thank you very much. We settled for pushing him up the little beginner hill and then letting him slide down with me in front of him, catching him every 10 feet or so, and helped him feel like a little ski champion, because we didn’t want to leave a bad taste in his mouth.
With that as our frame of reference, we returned to the mountain this past Saturday, and again rented Zan some skis, boots and a helmet, and again enrolled him in a class. I pushed him along on his skis until we reached the lesson area, at which point I was told parents had to stay on the other side of the fence.
“Alright, buddy, I’m going to be right on the other side of the fence here,” I said, and braced myself for a Zan-induced avalanche while scanning my surroundings for one of those St. Bernards with the little keg of life-saving booze strapped around its neck.
“OK,” Zan said casually, and continued shuffling along with the rest of the class. Wha-wha-what?
So I stood on the other side of the fence, in a state of semi-shock and amazement, and watched as he wholeheartedly participated in the class. From the get-go, he was having an awfully difficult time remaining upright, and fell over a good half-dozen times before they even got off of flat ground. Astonishingly, at no time did this result in him giving even the slightest hint of wanting to bail on the lesson.
After a few minutes of getting the kids acclimated, the instructors filed them onto the “magic carpet,” which transported them to the top of the hill, like so:
Up top, Zan fell a couple more times, but moved right into place when it was his turn to come down the hill, and went right back up to the top, repeatedly, despite falling again and again.
About a half-hour into the lesson, he was making another run down the hill, which consisted of skiing from the gate to an instructor about 15 or 20 feet away, then skiing from that instructor to one of the instructors at the bottom of the hill. He fell just before reaching the first instructor, who helped him up and then checked out his boots and skis for a moment before sending him on his way. He made it to the bottom without incident, and then lit a candle of parental guilt that has burned brightly and nonstop for the past three days.
“You should have tightened my boots, Daddy,” he said offhandedly as he shuffled past me on his way back to the magic carpet.
Ohmygod. I had loosened the buckles for him while we were walking around inside the rental shop … and forgot to clamp them back down when we got outside.
If you don’t have children, you will probably think I’m exaggerating when I tell you that I could have cried at that moment, and that I have been beating myself hourly with a cat o’ nine tails ever since. (OK, so maybe I am exaggerating about part of that … but mental self-flagellation is taking place, I assure you.)
Subsequent to the instructor properly buckling his boots, his ability to ski seemed greatly aided by the fact that, you know, the boots and skis moved accordingly when he moved his feet.
Also, did I mention that I’m a complete shithead?
After about another half hour, and following perhaps his best little run of the day, he slid over to me and said he wanted to take a break, so I popped his bindings open and helped him step out of his skis.
“I think I’m all done, Daddy,” he said a moment later.
“OK, pal,” I said. “Are you sure, though? Because you won’t get to ski anymore today. Do you want to go up one more time?”
“Um, yeah, I do,” he said, causing electricity to arc out of my ears like spiderwebbing bolts of lightning as my brain overheated from processing the continued and uncharacteristic surprises to which he was subjecting me.
Another well-executed run followed, after which Zan called it a day.
All of this would have been impressive enough, but I shall now up the ante, because this:
She insisted on skiing, so we got her a private lesson, since she was too young to participate in the group session. And how did she do? She went right up that magic-carpet thing and skied down the hill at least a dozen times, if not more. She was adorable and laughing and having a great time with the young lady who was her instructor, and god love that child.
If I had been any more proud of my kids Saturday morning, I would have burst open in an explosion of sunshine and Skittles that would have showered the entire ski resort in bright, glowing, rainbow-colored candy goodness.
15 Comments
We parents have to have these sorts of good days to make up for the times when we want to throttle our children to within an inch of their lives…and then begin throttling them again.
My husband and I are but a few days away from taking a vacation to see my folks in FL. There will be boating and swimming and beaching and all sorts of good family fun, and my one fervent hope is that we have a day (or two?) with our son like the one you just had with your kids! Though, may I say, without the snow or cold.
Good for them! They’re such troopers!
Looks like so much fun! KRohrer taught us kids (and about a dozen of our friends) how to ski… she’d pick us up after school, accompanied by as many other kids as she could fit in the old suburban, and trek us up to the local slope for afternoon/twilight skiing… She looked like a mother duck on skis being followed by a trail of ducklings making “pizza pies/snow plows/whatever they call the breaking mechanism today”. I can still hear her chanting “aaaaand TURN…” or “hands on your knees!”. You should send the dynamic duo up to NH for some free lessons (she’d LOVE the company on the slopes… JR has retired his skis).
I somehow stumbled across your blog and think it’s great! After reading, I couldn’t help but be really proud of your kids too! I’m so glad that this year worked out so much differently than the last. Thanks for the humor too…
Yea! Well done! They are well on their way to being naturals!
thanks for the email reply, so will give this another try
the post does bring back many great memories of learning to ski and our weekly friday night ski trips to the cheapie beginners ski slope my mom took us to… with the dreaded rope tow, many years ago!
looking forward to more stories…
You are such a lovely Shithead daddy!
Bossy regrets never getting her kids up on skis. Big deficit, that. At least they can skate their chilly hineys off.
That was a ride and a half….
Milissa: Good luck with your trip. And did I mention it’s snowing again? Enjoy Florida.
Candice: Thanks. Yeah, they are full of surprises, aren’t they?
Bethany: Great story. Might have to look into your free-ski-lesson suggestion!
Kate: Thanks for the kind words. I greatly appreciate it.
Alison: Yeah, something tells me they’ll be much better skiers than I ever was. I’m very excited to be able to expose them to things like this earlier than I was as a child.
Meg: The mountain we took them to is a little, family-friendly place in New Hampshire called King Pine. It’s the same place my siblings, cousins and I learned to ski when we were kids (though I think I was 11 or 12 when I first got to try it). And there is, in fact, a rope tow … which Zan actually used (with tremendous difficulty) on Sunday … when he took another lesson, which we signed him up for upon his insistence. The surprises never cease … and, I suspect, neither will the stories I’ll have to tell.
Belle: You always know just what to say.
Bossy: Hey, the Poconos are nearby, and your kids are still plenty young enough to go skiing (as is their mom!), so I say “Go for it.” At least it’s something to do that distracts one from one’s arctic environment. Brrrrr. (P.S.: You have successfully gotten that song wedged in my head … and I’m happy to report that I don’t mind it one bit. )
Braja: Hope you enjoyed the ride.
Great entry! Let us know when they’re ready for the big slopes and they can join Ian & I! Bethany is right, KRohrer would LOVE to go with them! Too bad Bethany hasn’t strapped on a set of skis herself in 15 years…
Brooke: Sounds like we might have to have a big family ski getaway one of these days …
Yay for brave little kids! They did great!
Even growing up in ME I’ve always been too chicken to (downhill) ski…tried it once and never again! Put me on a snowmobile, though, and I’m content for hours.
Awesome! I used to teach kids to ski, they are so fun as long as you keep them warm.
reen: Yeah, I’m glad we are starting them young. If we’re gonna live in the Northeast, might as well give ‘em something fun to do during an otherwise lousy time of year!
Mari: Very cool. I’d try to mooch a free lesson for them off of you, but I think the distance might be a problem.