26 Feb Sunday Ski as Family
Every Sunday in winter, we would go skiing at Mt Norquay, the stepsister of Rocky Mountain ski resorts in Alberta – a bit smaller, less glamorous but just WAIT till you try on their glass ski boots.
We ski because we wanted to do something as a family. We are fine if John or Tess want to play hockey, or swim or any other sport that requires parents to spend hours on uncomfortable benches in a cavernous building pretending to be fascinated by drills, but maybe there’s something that we can all do… something that starts with a relaxing family moment… sitting in a minivan on an early Sunday morning. Right?
Even the drive is so beautiful. You’re barely out of town, the sunrise lights up the mountains and the horizon looks like it was cut with a knife, and the kids are snuggled into their ski wear in the back seat.
Then John says he has to pee, and Tess says “Mom told you to go earlier!” and then John starts slapping at Tess, then Tess grabs his hand, pulls off his glove and throws it to the back of the van then John screams at her and Tess punches him and he yells that he’s going to “Step on her FACE!”
And Blythe says, “Oh my God, they’ve been doing this all week! Maybe we can leave them at the hill this time.”
We aren’t even out of the city limits yet.
And Tess starts to cry, “Mommy wants to leave us on the hill!”
And Blythe said, “I was just kidding honey. I wouldn’t leave you on the hill… for too long.”
Then Tess slowly reaches over to John and pulls out a section of his neck like she’s stretching a gob of gum and John screams and throws his other glove at her and she takes it and tosses it back and Blythe smacks the dashboard and yells “ENOUGH!!”
And there is a moment of shocked silence and I say, “Look at those mountains! Look at where we live! People from around the world spend their lives saving to come visit here – and we can just drive up.”
No one responds.
“Right?!” I say.
“Dad,” says Tess, “We can’t hear the movie.”
Because it’s nice to spend time as a family.