It must be Easter Weekend, because the Big Bunny Fun Run 5K was today! Dave took Julian and Katrina to Julian's T-ball game, while Gabriel and I ran in the race.
First, a little yoga stretching.
At the start -- on your mark! I recognized a woman from the Y and struck up a conversation, since she was running with her 8-year-old 3rd-grader too (the girl on my left). The woman is a phenomenal athlete, but she said she wasn't really running the race, she was going to stick with her daughter. She was floored when I told her that not only did I have no intention of sticking with Gabriel, but last year, I had no choice! He left me in the dust and I met him at the finish.
(I don't know, am I really that more lax than other parents? I got the same sort of great surprise from many parents in Julian's class when I did a drop-off for him at a birthday party, like they'd never heard of such a thing. But I really didn't see much risk in an 8-year-old following along in a large group of people on a well-marked route, and people with orange vests at every turn to point people in the right direction.)
The Big Bunny blew the airhorn, and we were underway. I sprinted to get ahead of Gabriel to get a few action shots.
He was ahead of me for the first half, but then I got ahead of him. I wasn't surprised; he hasn't been running in Running Club this year, though that didn't reduce his determination at all. I tried to follow along some preteen girls too, and realized that it's not that easy to run with kids -- they don't keep a steady pace. During the few minutes I ran alongside Gabriel, he'd speed up and slow down again and again, and it wasn't comfortable for me.
Not that I was very fast. I saw the hind end of many in the 60-69 age group, and spent much of the race trying to match the pace of a man in the 70+ group. I finally caught him toward the end.
Still, I finished in plenty of time to set up for a finish-line shot of Gabriel, which unfortunately happened to be when he blinked.
He finished strong, though he was limping around for about half an hour afterward.
Mercifully, this year they did the awards announcements right away after the race, and did the youngest age groups first (as compared to last year when we had to endure 45 minutes of a raffle first, and they did the youngest age groups last).
I wasn't expecting Gabriel to get a trophy this year, but when I heard them announce 31 minutes for the 3rd-place finisher in his age group, I realized, "Holy cow, he's placed!" I dropped everything to search for my camera and got it just in time to hear: "....and in first place, with a time of 27:02, Gabriel Duh ... er, ... Dood-na!"
He took First Place in his division, and beat his time last year handily too. I guess youth trumps conditioning! Good for him! I was really proud and happy for him. But he was sober -- he'd been looking forward to "beating the pants off you, Mom," and that, he didn't do.
Just for fun, we stuck around to hear the finishing times for my age group. Forget it; the 3rd place finishers in 40-49, 50-59, and even 60-69 all completely beat my time, which I believe was just under 27 minutes based on Gabriel's time. In my age group, the 3rd-placer was in the 22-minute range, something I'll never see. But if I have any strength in running, it's not speed -- I was starting to pass people toward the end, but in a 5K that's not enough time to catch up. If I want to be competitive, I'll do better in longer races with hills. And I have to want to be competitive, which I really don't.
Next year, Gabriel's age division will be 9-12, where the competition is much stiffer. But he'll have a good shot at beating his old Mom.
As we enter my 3rd month of full-time work, the adjustment continues. Though it seems 10 times harder to do anything outside the bare minimum, in some ways I feel more determined to do those things. Our lives can't become just about work, even if having lives outside of work takes even more planning and compromising and energy.
So when our longtime friends Sean and Louise were in town and suggested we get together, I knew I wanted to have them over in our new house and make a nice dinner. That's why we did the remodel, or a huge reason for it -- it was so difficult to make dinner and have guests before. It's crazy to think we wouldn't do it now because of not knowing how to make all the logistics work. And it wasn't clear right away how it would work, but with a little planning, a little compromising, a lot of flexibility, a conveniently timed day off of work (for Dave), and really relaxed friends, it turned out to be pretty doable.
Big bonus: other grownups in the house really disrupts the kids' routine too -- amazingly, they were all really good. Unusually calm and agreeable, in fact. It was remarkable. It helped that Louise made a point of entertaining them while I was making dinner, permanently earning herself a place in their hearts.
So, we had a nice grownup dinner and grownup talk and a nice grownup visit, and it was completely worthwhile. Even more worthwhile, perhaps, because having grownups over is more of an event now than it used to be. Good. I like an eventful life.
When I was picking the boys up from the CDC today, I was briefly chatting with a longtime CDC staffer who's just announced he's leaving. I could see the boys as they were supposed to be gathering their things, and then noticed Julian standing and crying. Then I saw Gabriel laughing with three friends.
Turns out, Gabriel had whirled his jacket around and the zipper had smacked Julian right in the back. There was a nasty welt and swollen spot where impact had occurred. To make matters worse, Gabriel was laughing.
Other kids calm down very quickly and listen with fascination when another kid is being scolded. I was moderately stern with Gabriel while his friends stood staring wide-eyed -- not nearly representing how furious I was with him. I informed him he was spending the whole evening at home in his room. I've told them all many many many times not to swing jackets around; the zippers can really hurt.
Gabriel told me later he was laughing because he thought the welt on Julian's back was in the shape of an 'e'. As if that made it any better. I was so angry at him I just didn't even want to be around him. Then I get upset at that too: I want so so much to be near him and talk to him in our precious short evening time together, in the precious short few years we have left together -- why does he do these awful things that poisons our time together?
Increasingly, the working-parent guilt creeps in. I think Gabriel needs more home downtime. He needs great projects he can sink himself into, to dive into, to be in his favorite and best mode. He's always been great at self-entertaining, but the bar is higher now that he's older. And in fact, his life at the CDC after school prevents him from exercising that self-entertainment, because he has no quiet time alone to just....do. Left to his own devices, Gabriel spends hours working on something, happily humming away to himself. There's just not enough of that in his life.
Meantime, I'm slowly settling into work. As I expected, the learning is the best pull there...I'm loving learning about new technology. Every day, something comes up in which I have to go scour a dense technical specification to go find a tiny fact. That's really great. I'd thought that part of my life was over, but it's still very much a part of me. I like learning, I really like my coworkers, I love my immediate manager, my confidence is being restored every day.
And I like being around men again -- the mom world is dominated by women, which I also loved, but so much of my adult life has been spent primarily around men that when the only man I had a meaningful conversation with for weeks was Dave, I felt something was missing. It's a different style of conversation, but one I'd grown to know well from years and years of working and riding motorcycles around almost all men. There are plenty of women to chat with at work too too, but the atmosphere is male-dominated, and that's a comfort zone for me.
Still, much is expected of an engineer of my level -- can I do that and still be a good mother to my slightly-unusual firstborn son? He needs so little from me on the surface, but what he does need, he needs intensely. Nowadays we don't have the luxury of shrugging our shoulders like parents of yore and saying "well that's life." Just because he's bored doesn't mean he can physically abuse Julian and laugh, of course. But what can I do -- what should I do?
Last day of March...usually I welcome this milestone toward summer, but having had one of the best trips we've ever had as a family this month, I hate to say goodbye to it. Has one fun weekend turned me from a summer-water person into a winter-snow person? Doubtful, but I have a new reason to look forward to January next year.
Coffee and chatter tonight with Mom friends -- feels good to be back in the real world. And to think, for so many years I referred to work as the "real world." It's such a no-brainer which world -- and they truly are worlds apart -- is real.
Whew! When I signed Julian for T-ball, it was a calculated risk that T-ball would overlap Gabriel's hockey. Overall my gamble worked: only one night would there be a conflict. And tonight was the night.
So, I picked the boys up, zoomed Julian over to T-ball practice at 5pm, then zoomed Gabriel to hockey, where he got on the ice at 5:18pm. Hockey takes so much longer to suit up for, parking is worse, it takes longer to find a spot to suit up, and the pitiful minimal gear we have is harder to deal with (snapping on the helmet is a pain!).
Then I zoomed again to go get Katrina, while Dave joined Julian at his game, and took him home when it was over.
Crazy as it was, I made two observations. One is that Katrina is completely engaged during the hockey lesson. She loves watching it, even though she has to stand on a bench and look through some plexiglass to see. And it's cold and noisy and poorly lit, but, she loves it. She's much harder to entertain at T-ball.
The other is, again, despite the inconveniences, how much I like watching hockey and skating, and how awed I am by the toughness of my little firstborn son. The warmup exercise involved the entire class -- over 25 kids, most bigger and almost all better skaters than Gabriel -- chasing a single puck. I thought this was sort of silly really, they have plenty of pucks, couldn't they have tossed a few more on? But despite this swarm, relatively tiny Gabriel isn't the slightest bit intimidated, and fights hard to get to the front of the pack and actually got his stick on the puck a few times. He's getting good enough at stickhandling that now his skating is holding him back; he really needs to improve his hockey skating. Unfortunately, his confidence means he thinks he can skate well, even when an even smaller 5-year-old boy whizzed past him.
Still, I look at my burgeoning son out there and feel like this is what makes it all worth it. Logistics were hectic tonight, but just look at how strong and sure he is, how he's growing, being challenged, exercising his character. That is by far the most important job I have in my life. Developing these remarkable beings, these silly children is more than worth leaving work early, it's essential. Besides, I think I need it more than they do.
Whew....just went through the most grodious process of signing up for daycamps. At the Y, this is not trivial -- the stupid form makes you write the parents' names, addresses, all phone numbers and even birthday TWICE.
I wasn't very creative this year and didn't even really consult the boys beyond "so, do you want to do ice skating?" There are many other options, but frankly it's way way easier for us for them to do camps in the same week. I also signed them both up for a swim camp, without consulting them. One week won't turn them into swimmers, but it goes a drop toward preventing them from being drowners.
It's astoundingly expensive too. One week of a relatively inexpensive daycamp costs between $500 and $600 total for both boys. We pay that much for an entire month during the school year for each one. Suddenly Katrina's "camp" at TLC will seem cheap! I'd love to do a daycamp for her -- she's old enough for the Y's "pee wee" camps that Julian loved so much -- but they're only half-day, and I just can't afford the time off of work.
I used to think "dang, a ski trip would cost as much as a summer of daycamps." Now I think, "dang, a summer of daycamps costs as much as a ski trip!" So funny that I'm dreaming of snow instead of sand for next winter. My mother remembers having to drag me out of the water blue and shivering; but easily bailing out of ski lessons for being too cold. I've been a water person through and through since day one, and that's not going away...but I sure am enjoying the thoughts of adding snow to that repertoire.
Actually, though I grew up with snow and know it well, California snow, altitude, snowpack depths unheard of in the east, warm days are all very new. I love living so close to the ocean, but these days all I can think about is getting back into the mountains. If we can afford it after the staggering bill for summer daycamps that is!
It's funny...as my life migrates more and more away from the baby-toddler-young-kid world, especially with full-time work, I'm reminded that that world still exists strongly, and indeed IS the world of many other families, just as it was for ours. I made some wonderful, lifetime friends that way, and probably will continue to, but park playgroups are just not part of my daily life anymore. I'm not sure how that happened.
So when I realized I almost missed a weekend Easter party, I signed me and Katrina up right away. What used to be a regular thing for me (and Katrina) has now become a rare, and special, treat!
At the last minute, I decided to take Julian too, with reservations. There would be other siblings his age there, separating the boys is always a good thing, and Dave wanted to go on a motorcycle ride. Bringing Julian meant that if I was running late, he could leave Gabriel alone for a while before I got home. Leaving the boys alone together -- unthinkable. But just Gabriel? Probably illegal, but, no problem.
At first, Katrina and Julian only played together, wrestling around while all the other kids worked at a craft table, decorating Easter baskets (what a great idea!). Eventually I got Julian to participate, but Katrina would have nothing of it. While the whole rest of the party glued and drew and decorated, she played by herself on a couch. I haven't been with her in groups of kids for a while; I'd forgotten she's like this. No surprise really; she's never been a joiner.
She was also the only kid to refuse to play "Pin The Tail On The Easter Bunny" too. Julian was into it though.
She participated in the egg hunt at least, and even stuck to the 12-egg limit, asking me several times how many eggs she had in her basket, and listening when I told her, "only 2 more!"
No photos though. At least Sonia got some of her and me together later.
As always, it was so nice chatting with mom friends and seeing all these wonderful kids together. This was a lifeline for me with the first one, and now something I enjoy and miss with the third.
Dave was away riding all afternoon (good for him! I was so glad for him, he doesn't do it enough!), so I had to grocery-shop with all three. This is a pain, mostly because Gabriel is increasingly resistant and obnoxious about it. I finally made him stand by the door while we finished shopping, as his boredom had turned to pestering Katrina and she was screeching. His attitude improved a lot when it came time to hand around balloons. I took the boys' balloons away at home until they'd taken care of their laundry though. I don't fold or put away any of their laundry anymore -- they do. But there's little work savings there; it's much more effort to get them to do it. Despite the effort, they're both pretty good at putting their clothes away though! Katrina can easily "fold" her laundry too, but getting her to tackle a whole basket every week is more work than I can handle right now.
I didn't write yesterday, but we had another fun T-ball practice and game on Saturday afternoon. Well, Julian did anyway; Katrina and Gabriel played nearby with varying degrees of tolerance. A friend says her daughter made friends with other younger sisters right away and had a great time playing together, but, not Katrina. She's always on the periphery, looking inside from out, not shy, but not social either. There was another little girl her age sitting right near us, but she had no interest. I did see Katrina attempting to engage another boy who'd wandered away from the field, but that was about it. Dave took her to a playground for part of it, and I played catch with her, and also Gabriel, a little, mostly so I could watch Julian's game between throws.
Despite the sibling distractions, I am so surprised at how much I love being a sports-mom. I thought I'd barely tolerate it, but really, I look forward to the game (and moreso, the practice) hours before, and love watching the kids interact and learn. Maybe I won't like it as much when it's more for real -- like when they keep score and people start taking it seriously, but for now, being a sports-mom is a blast.
Katrina is very upset about the "racetrack" in our backyard being gone -- that is, the short walkway that she used to ride her bike on, stop, get off the bike, turn it around, then ride back about 10 seconds, and repeat. For an hour at a time, sometimes.
It's more than the "racetrack" that's gone -- it's the whole yard. I can't let them back there at all right now. Especially not with the terrifying Ditch Witch standing guard.
So they were all pretty psyched when we got home today and found part of a new walkway in the front yard.
This quickly became a "racetrack" too.
No one is more psyched about the new front walkway than I am though. I'm no artiste or design-person, but curves do draw the eye. I can't wait for our little mini-park, and all its racetracks, to be done.
I got called out of work today for a tummy-ache of Julian's, so I brought my laptop home and continued working here once he was settled in. Turns out, it was so quiet that I got a ton done, and worked harder than I would for a whole week put together! I think that's a good thing....not sure though.
Gabriel's teachers sent a long email today informing us of his numerous transgressions, again. He's been difficult at home lately too, as only Gabriel can be. His teachers surmise he's looking for attention. While that's never been his overt style, I can't help but to wonder if what he needs the most is hours at home after school to focus on his electronics projects, humming happily away to himself.
I was SO disappointed about having to miss Julian's T-ball game today!
Are we going to continue this? Gabriel seems to really like it, despite being sorely underequipped and outnumbered. He really wants to play games, but doesn't accept that maybe he needs to learn a little more about hockey basics first. Like, you know, skating.
Today the lesson included a puck.
And three coaches, finally. This permitted some necessary individual instruction.
It helps to have your own cheering section!
As he approaches the boards closest to where the camera is, you can hear a little voice from behind, "Hi Gabriel!" He was really struggling with this exercise.
Tomorrow is Julian's first weekday T-ball practice and game. I thought I'd dread this sports-mom-taxiing, but really, it's the highlight of my day.
Julian's homework folder, Friday folder, and now his signed report card, keep coming back home again in his knapsack. He's supposed to turn them in, but I guess the teachers don't insist or ask, because some weeks his homework never makes it in at all.
Via Friday Folder comments, and then email, we asked what's going on, and the answer is that the kids are supposed to put these folders in a basket on the right day, themselves. The idea is to encourage independence and responsibility. But are we the only ones whose 6-year-old forgets to be responsible? Apparently we are! All the others kids' homework gets turned in, and Friday Folders returned on Monday.
How can that be? I have to confirm this, but Julian is in a tiny minority of kindergartners who gets dropped off on a city block right near the school and walks to class himself. Most of the others are seen to the door by parents or grandparents. Is it possible that he's the only one who's not getting reminded at the classroom door, because he's the only one who goes to his class alone? So much for teaching independence!
I'm not sure...there are a few CDC kids who don't get that parental reminder (or parents putting the folders into the baskets themselves), and there must be other kindergartners who go to class themselves. The only thing we're sure of is that our otherwise studious son is the only one who so consistently doesn't turn his work in.
But we sure learned a lot about sharks and whales from him yesterday!
Saturday was Little League Opening Day. If I'd known what ceremony, pomp, circumstance, tradition and sentiment went with it, I'd have worn an evening gown. Then again, I should have guessed as much from movies -- no chick flicks are sappier than baseball movies.
Julian and I were at the park from 8:30 to 12:30, joined briefly by the rest of the family to witness the end of Julian's game. First were photos: individual slugger photos, then a team photo. Julian's team was the only one for whom the majority were wearing jeans. I learned that 3 of the 10 players are from Israeli families -- recent enough immigrants that one of his teammates tried to talk to me in Hebrew.
Then came their first T-ball game. It's sort of silly at first glance: no score is kept, everyone bats, everyone runs around the bases, everyone scores, field positions are rotated and everyone gets a turn. Is this really a game, or just a way to keep a 6-year-old busy on a Saturday afternoon?
Nevertheless, Julian and his teammates were all over it. Julian started off in the pitcher "position," who ends up doing all the fielding because it seems beginning T-ballers pretty much all hit the same direction and distance. Julian and subsequent pitcher-fielders got the idea quickly that they had to get the ball and throw it to first base. No decisions, no plays, no outs. Silly, right?
Mostly in the fielding stance taught by our really excellent (I think) coach.
Julian (#7) throwing to the absent first base-kid while the opposing Giants batter runs to first base.
This is pretty much how every play goes. Julian is #7.
A few minutes of batting coaching before the game made a tremendous difference. This is the first time Julian, and every teammate and opponent, has ever been up to bat with all other teammates and opponents and parents watching.
T-ballers all round all the bases. Most have to be directed to actually touch the base.
The "outfielders" don't have much to do though, and when Julian wasn't in the pitcher position, he spent half his time lying down, or throwing his hat and glove on the ground.
More Bad News Bears than Field of Dreams, but the comicalness only added to the fun.
I missed the photo, but I was glad to see that the teams line up and shake hands after the game. To me, teaching them sportsmanship is very very important.
After the game, the kids lined up for the opening ceremonies. (Many games were scheduled throughout the day; Julian's just happened to be before.) Starting with the oldest teams, each team ran around the infield while being introduced, then settled in groups on the perimeter.
The T-ballers ran last, then settled on the inside of the infield -- a special spot.
From there, the usual introductions and thank-yous were said. A dressed-up girl who's listened to way too much Mariah Carey sang the National Anthem. The Little League Pledge was stated by about 10 players -- it starts with, "I trust in God..." The girl came back and sang "Take me out to the Ball Game." Then the First Pitch was made from the youngest player to the oldest one.
It was so sappy I couldn't decide if I should barf or cry. Truth is, it left a lump in my throat against my will.
But I was struck by how seriously the T-ballers were taken, even though their actual game seemed like little more than a party activity. When the T-ballers ran around the infield before settling into their place of honor, they got a high-five from every older player on the perimeter. The Sunnyvale league president said that 8 T-ball teams meant a bright future for their league, and spoke about the importance of cultivating younger players.
So even though the game appeared trite because of how much of real baseball is removed from it, the kids really learned a lot. Most have no idea how baseball goes; even the concept of an "inning" is lost on them. Now they understand switching teams, fielding, throwing to get a batter "out," running bases. I know from friends' teams that this is very necessary initiation -- in two years, they will all be seasoned players who know how the game goes, and will be ready to play seriously. It's really a very very nice introduction -- no pressure, but still learning the basic structure of the game and teamwork and sportsmanship. That's not silly at all.
To my surprise, I loved it. I thought I'd hate being a "sports mom," but it turns out, I like being there and as involved as I can be, chatting with the other parents. I ran into two moms I already knew from Las Madres, in fact. I'm so impressed with the commitment and competence of our Dad coaches, and I love watching the kids improve minute-by-minute. I'll take this over sitting in a playground watching a toddler go down a slide anyday. And I think this is far cuter than a 3-year-old princess party. I just love it.
Oh yeah, and I think Julian loved it too! But first and foremost he asked in a wondrous voice: "Did you see that beautiful girl?" -- meaning the Mariah-Carey wannabe. He was very taken by her.
That afternoon, another first event: Dave's been putting the idea of a "two-wheeler" in Katrina's head, and for some reason, today, she claimed she was willing to try. We both expected she'd refuse as soon as she got on it, but she was willing to try. After about 15 minutes, she did give up and then spent a lot of time in what's left of our backyard riding the scooter. But she got the idea! She has Gabriel's stubbornness and some of his persistence, but without his toughness. Still, she's always liked bicycles and seems to be very very interested in learning to ride a two-wheeler -- as long as the conditions are exactly to her liking that is.
Isn't it interesting that since I've a full-time job, I've turned into a baseball mom, a hockey mom, and taken the family skiing. Seems I really do work better under pressure.
It's so sunny and warm in Sunnyvale right now that it's hard to wrest myself back into ski-snow mode. But we were up in the Sierras skiing and snowing less than a week ago. It seems like an old memory now, but one of my favorites.
We left Thursday afternoon/evening in an attempt to avoid most Bay Area traffic, knowing we'd have to find our rental place in the dark. The idea was that we could then spend Friday getting our bearings, figuring out where the ski resort its ski school were, and, of course, do some snow playing.
Dinner on the way was at the boys' new favorite.
Our place was adorable and comfortable, and the kind landlords left the gas fireplace on and a bottle of wine ready for us when we arrived. We felt right at home. In the morning, we found a fabulous view of the lake from the main window.
The steps to the basement where the kids' bunk beds were had a serious overhang though. Even Gabriel had to duck.
And so, Katrina got to see snow for the first time Friday morning. She loved it.
All 3 played in the snow in the morning, while I organized their ski stuff. It was a good shake-out of their gear, the first time we'd put everything together. For instance, the sportpants I'd gotten the boys as a "base layer" had buttons at the ankles, I discovered -- no good in ski boots. Instead, Gabriel's pajamas (cotton thermals) had to do as their base layers.
After some morning snowplay and a late-breakfast supplement of pancakes and apples, we piled into the car and went to find Sugarbowl. I'm glad we did, because we had some false starts and confusions, but eventually found the children's center. It was closed, so our plan of getting the kids' rental gear today was shot.
We went on to the main lodge, and then I made a snap decision: how about me and the boys try to ski today? Maybe the boys can get a head-start on ski school tomorrow. There was a package that included rental, lift ticket, and a 2-hour general-admission no-reservation lesson, all ages, all levels. Sold.
The kids' lessons, however, was only for 4-and-up. Katrina was outraged and Dave had to hoist her on his shoulder, kicking and SCREAMING, and I mean SCREAMING, back to the car. I wasn't at all sorry to see her go, but I was sorry to hear later about what a miserable afternoon she put Dave through.
We were like the Three Stooges trying to get our rentals, ski gear, and things together. We were almost ready when I realized I'd put the boys' mittens in the ski check. It took an hour and a half, but somehow we trudged our way to the 1pm lesson, clumsy in our boots and the boys struggling to carry their skis. I later learned that the walk from the rentals to the lesson area was by far the longest we'd ever have to make, and I grew to despise it. I was starting to feel grumpy about the huge hassle, and was really bummed when I found that my camera battery needed replacing. If I get anything out of this, it's got to be pictures!
Just as I got the boys settled into their lessons (by age and ability), a panicked thought suddenly struck me: "Oh sh*t: LUNCH!!" They never had lunch.
My first skiing in roughly 20 years was a few meters down to catch my Level 1 lesson on the bunny hill. The instructor took one look at me and said, "You're not Level 1." Turns out some of what little previous skiing I've done stuck with me, but I got a lot out of the lesson and was glad I'd started there. The instructor told me to join a Level 3 lesson the next day.
Meantime, it had gotten dark and had started to snow. Then it started to really snow. I ditched my lesson briefly to go get a balaclava (and the camera battery), and came back to find my skis nearly buried by fresh, light, fluffy snow. I hear this is a good thing, but it sure made moving around difficult.
Visibility had plummeted -- from the lift, I could barely make out the boys' lessons below. (I think this is Gabriel.)
I was a little worried about Julian: his goggles were too big and it seemed his mittens kept falling off. Gabriel being Gabriel, I never worry about him.
When our lesson groups intersected on the lift line (which was often; it's a short hill and the lift takes less than 3 minutes), the boys both seemed like they were having a great time, despite the wind driving snow down their necks, and piles of snow collecting in their hoods. (the boys are in red, next to each other, on the left)
After their lesson, I figured they'd be way past done, but to my surprise, even Julian insisted on skiing some more. So I took them up the lift, heeding their new expertise: "chase the chair!" They learned a lot in that first lesson, enough to both basically go down the slope, though pushing through the fresh snow was really a challenge.
By now it had snowed long enough that we were in, apparently, the skiier's dream. Deep, fresh snow -- "free refills," as described by my ski instructor. That means by the time you get back to the same place, your tracks have been filled in. That's exactly what was happening. Only it's a lot harder to ski when it's such a slight slope and you have no poles to push you through. Julian practically had to walk down the hill.
Meantime, Gabriel was -- hmm, where was he? Oh, up there! As I was helping Julian, I'd look up and see Gabriel, back up the lift by himself.
When we'd pushed well past sanity, the boys really were done. Both their hands were so cold, Julian couldn't carry his skis and Gabriel had a moment of near-tears. I had to carry my skis and poles and Julian's skis allllll the way back to the rentals, the boots tearing into my shins. Julian then tumbled down the steps, unused to the boots. Their clothes and jackets were soaked through, they were cold, tired, and very very hungry.
I gave Julian my jacket while I called Dave to come get us, not sure my cell phone would get through to him. He'd lost the car keys for a while, and was in a state of panic that he'd dropped them and they were buried in snow, but fortunately they'd gotten buried under my regular jacket -- which I was very glad to see -- on the front seat of the car.
It was snowing hard. I'm not new to snow; I did live in Rochester NY for 6 years, so I know: it was really snowing. Dave was in a rare state of driving agitation about cars all over the road, chain controls on the highway, very very poor visibility and roads that, even if they'd been plowed, were getting "free refills" at an alarming rate. It was beautiful, but sort of scary too. People die getting lost in conditions like this.
That very morning, I'd been congratulating myself on moving our accommodations from a condo right in the resort, to a separate dwelling with some yard space. How hard is it to drive home 5 miles?
Hard.
We made it safely, as I expected with Dave driving. Right away the hungry boys got -- what else when you're wet and cold and hungry: peas! Peas?! Actually, they loved it and ate almost a whole bag, poor things. Almost every stitch of clothing they'd been wearing went into the dryer.
I made hot chocolate too. Katrina is always happy about that (video taken next day).
So much for our lake view!
But it was fascinating to see the snow from the safety of our cozy place.
The next morning was sunny and clear and stunningly beautiful. This is not a vista point, this is just out the living room window.
It took a lot more shoveling to clear the steps, and a lot of time to de-ice the car so the doors could open. Somehow, still, we managed to get the kids' rentals and to ski school in time, about 8:30. Dave was able to join a 10am Level 1 lesson in progress, but the Level 3 lesson had already left for the intermediate slope. (That's Dave in the snowboarder-dude white-and-black rented jacket.)
I hung out on the bunny hill and got a few photos of the boys' lessons. In Gabriel's lesson, one kid needed to hold a pole the instructor used to hold him back...hmm. Gabriel's no expert, but he doesn't need a pole.
Meantime, Julian's class plowed by. (That's Gabriel's instructor in the yellow jacket behind Julian, holding an orange pole with a kid clinging to it, with Gabriel waiting above in the red-and-black jacket.)
Gabriel had to adjust to the smooth snow; his only skiing had been in yesterday's snowy soup that really slowed us all down.
But what an improvement he makes in two days of ski school.
I also snuck a peek at the Sugar Bears, the 3-4 group. Those kids start off in a small enclosure on a very very gentle slope. Katrina was not happy, and I saw her crying and even start to cry for Mommy -- which made me think she'd seen me. So I employed my highly developed protective maternal instincts and left. Truth is, every sitter and daycare provider and teacher will tell you that parents hanging around is a big hindrance, so I figured I'd make it easier on Katrina's teacher and make myself scarce.
Besides, I had some skiing to do. Fed up with long lift lines on the bunny hill, I braved the next-easiest lift (Jerome), and was richly rewarded with lovely views at the top. Notice the snowboarder sitting on his butt. Snowboarders spend an inordinate amount of time sitting on their rear ends. Much of the rest of it is spent with their faces planted in the snow. What little remains there is spent buzzing slow, predictable, beginner skiiers on an easy slope.
I took a Level 3 lesson in the afternoon, while Dave took another lesson, Level 2 this time, having graduated from learning to side-step and put his skis on. So many people showed up for my lesson that after they took us up the same lift I'd braved in the morning, they did a quick eval on us at the top. They had us ski down one at a time a short way (about 50 meters) to see how we turned, then split us up into two groups. Naturally, I was in the group that didn't know how to turn.
One guy I'd chatted with on the lift had immediately intimidated me with easy talk of lengths of skis in millimeters. I figured he must know what he's doing, so I was surprised when he took off his skis and started walking down the slope for his eval. Turns out, he was so rusty at skiing, he couldn't even make it down that short way. The instructor told him never ever to walk on a slope, put your skis back on, and we'll help you get down. Nope, he couldn't even do that. He had to wait for another instructor, but all the new instructor could do was call ski patrol. (My lesson was going slowly, with a lot of talking, so we got to watch this whole drama unfold.) After quite some time, we saw ski patrol arrive and try to coach him down. Finally, we saw our "Level 3" classmate going down in a toboggan towed by an irritated ski patrol.
Actually, I was told later, and agree, that the whole incident was the fault of the first instructor. He should have eval'd the whole group on the bunny hill first, as did my instructor the next day, to catch people who vastly overestimate their ability. Heck, I was rusty too -- that's why I started in a Level 1 lesson.
Dave was really tired after his afternoon Level 2 lesson, which also took his group off the bunny hill without any evaluation first. The boys had stayed on the bunny hill the whole day, but both had had a great time, and had been promoted to Level 2. Katrina...well, she resists new things on principle.
I could see why the advice to take ski school 2 days in a row was so valuable. We were now in the groove -- even Julian's mittens stayed on today -- and were ready to sink it in the next day.
This is the view on the drive home (Donner Lake). I was moved to tears. I've been on this road before and in this area before many times, on my motorcycle, but never in winter. I can't believe this paradise has been here all along and I've never seen it.
The next morning went much more smoothly (if you don't count our one toilet overflowing during the night and a nail-biter hoping the kids only had liquids to release) (it was fixed quickly while we were gone), and we all got to our morning lessons. Dave took another Level 2 lesson that stayed on the bunny hill, and my Level 3 lesson went to the same intermediate (though among the easiest) hills, and my confidence was growing. I wondered if Gabriel would make it off the bunny hill today.
So I was pretty surprised when I ran into Julian's class on the lift line! His teacher said this was their 2nd time up, and he was doing great. She'd ski backward in an 'S' and coach him as he snowplowed in her track. I was impressed, and a little surprised, at how hard he tried and how ... well, determined he was. I don't use that word often with Julian, but he really was. That's him on the left, with the yellow helmet. He was having a lot of fun too, giggling and joking around.
Dave and I had lunch -- I hated the lines and crowds in the lodge for the overpriced junk food -- and then tried to ski together for our last afternoon. But with the afternoon lessons in progress, the lift line on the bunny hill was about 20 minutes, when the lift itself was under 3 minutes and the ski down about 30 seconds. I tried to convince Dave to try the intermediate slope with me, but he'd had a good lesson that morning and wanted to practice.
So did I. I had to sink in my new skills before it evaporated from my head. Back up Jerome it was, from where I could explore other routes. Actually, skiing alone had its benefits -- I really enjoyed chatting with people on the lifts, and found that many couples have to ski apart because of split ability.
I ran into Julian's class again, this time on the intermediate part of the slope. He was doing great.
I was pretty annoyed when a snowboarder shooshed right behind him, startling him so that he fell, and then the snowboard stopped inches from Julian's helmet. "What the hell was that?!" I said to Julian's instructor. She said they get a lot of complaints about the snowboarders on this huge, wide beginning slope. What, the dude's so cool he has to buzz a 6-year-old with an instructor in front of him? I also got buzzed a few times during my lesson. I can't stand those guys.
Though it was warming up and the snow was getting heavier and harder to handle, I had to go to the top. Just the lift itself was pretty stunning to me, though I know they can get a lot longer and higher. I was treated to some fabulous views at the top of Mount Lincoln. (Steph, I'm wearing a pair of size 10 Bogner ski pants that you got at a ski-swap place in Colorado in 1990! They're ancient!)
I'd made sure that there was a "blue square" way down, but had been warned it was steep at the very top. To me, this looks like a vertical precipice.
This part turned out to be too short to be a real problem, but a later slope, that I'd been told was easy, I'd have avoided if I'd had the choice. It looked pretty darn steep to me.
My plan had been to snowplow down anything I didn't think I could actually ski, but quickly learned the fallacy in that idea. Snowplow turning is slooow; you spend so much time pointed down the "fall line" (straight down) that you quickly pick up speed. I was going to have to ski it. I tracked across the slope as perpendicular as I could, then turned as fast as I could at the last minute to traverse to the other side, and switchbacked my way down in one piece.
I've since been told that the way to approach this is to prepare several meters before your turn, so that you can snap right into it. But I made it, I didn't fall and didn't freak myself out too badly. I wish I'd had had time to do it again.
This 3" diameter bruise on the back of my calf (turned black in a day) says it all about my "technique." You're not supposed to have any pressure on the back of your leg!
I was out of time to ski on my own; ski school pickup is at 3:30. And I had a date: I'd promised to take Gabriel down if he made it to the intermediate slope today. And he had, and then some. I'd run into his lesson after lunch, and his teacher had said he could easily handle the intermediate lift where my class had been, that he likes to go fast and likes bumps. She said, "he's a racer, but needs to be reminded to turn." So, we went up.
First priority: video! This is at the top, where it's not as steep as toward the bottom. (This is also exactly where my lame classmate the day before had walked down, on the left.)
I couldn't catch him after I put my camera away, so we went back up one more time, and skiied down together. Sort of. At the top (where I'd taken the video), I could easily keep up with him. But toward the bottom, where it gets steeper, he lost me handily. I concentrated hard on not losing control in the increasingly slushy snow, knowing I was tired and distracted by bursting pride at how courageous my son is -- and just a little annoyed that I hadn't a chance of catching him.
But I met my safety goal, and made it down with no emergencies, even if my 8-year-old -- who had only seen snow once before in his life -- creamed me. Years of motorcycling and the developed judgement that comes with that played a large role in my skiing. It takes a long time to learn to put ego behind safety, as the snowboarders clearly demonstrated.
I wanted so much to have a fun excited catch-up with the boys in the car on the way home, but another major Katrina tantrum put a quick stop to that. I was so frustrated that I couldn't happily gush with the boys about our great ski day, instead listening to a litany of things that Katrina claim loudly she hated ("I HATE green cars....I HATE snow...I HATE sneakers...!"). The boys, as usual, are much better-natured about this than I am.
She had more than her share of pill-y moments on this trip. I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that the toddler years are almost over, but they will not be my fondest memories of child-raising.
I resurrected a very fond childhood memory of mine however: popcorn and hot chocolate!
Katrina wasn't done with snow though, and the time change gave her some extra light. After the hot chocolate, she insisted on putting all her snow stuff back on, climbing up this bank, and "sliding" down. She did much much better the 2nd day of ski school, but I wasn't about to waste any precious ski time hiking over to the children's center in ski boots, even to get a picture.
I'd sort of thought to do something snow-related Monday morning before we drove home, but didn't want to deal with a bunch of wet gear. Julian had said he wanted to see Lake Tahoe, and since we were in Truckee and had some time, that was a capital idea. So we drove down the west side of Lake Tahoe, catching some stunning views of Emerald Bay. We had lunch at Camp Richardson, with views of the lake, then made our way down Hwy 50 to home. By Placerville, it was 70 degrees. Katrina had another tantrum when the snow disappeared, she wanted us to put the snow back.
How is it possible that I've never completely connected how much I love the mountains? I knew that as a motorcyclist; I went on many, many rides in the summer and absolutely loved being there. I love the view, the earthy smells, the tall trees, the reddish dirt, the starkness of it all. But now that I've discovered winter, it's a big "ah-hah" and "duh" moment all at once: I absolutely love mountains and especially love the Sierras. I couldn't get enough of the views of hills and sugar pines and snow, though it's not a particular diverse landscape. It's just stunningly beautiful. I really liked Truckee too, what little we saw of it. Makes me wonder: what are we doing in Silicon Valley?
Oh yeah -- I love oceans and warmth and have always been a water-sport person. Employment is a good thing too, and I like all the resources we have here.
But even aside from how much the boys -- and Katrina -- and perhaps even Dave -- enjoyed this trip, I really loved it. And that was with some pretty bad moments: trudging back after the boys' lesson the first day, the overflowing toilet, the terrifying drive back in the snow. Skiing is a big hassle and big expense, but it's more than made up for by the views, the mountains, the physical challenge -- and seeing how much my kids loved it. A night hasn't passed since when I haven't dreamed about snow, being in the mountains, or skiing itself.
Suddenly it seems like a long, long time until next winter. I can't wait to do this again.
