So as we wound down from the Christmas chaos which in our family equates to overeating and wanton imbibing, we took in a few days of skiing at Mount Washington. For those of you who live on Vancouver Island, you know what an amazing week it has been. For those who aren’t from the Island, Mt. Washington (check out the news story) had its moment of fame this week as it boasted a base of over 500cm – currently more than any ski mountain in the world. Hence the look of all-consuming glee on my husband’s face; similar to the smile of a little girl locked in a room full of puppies and rainbows. I think I heard something like “what an epic ski, dude.”  Well not really, but if he was 20 years younger and 2 kids lighter, he probably would have said that.

Now I don’t ski, because of two strongly held lifelong principals. I hate heights, so ski lifts are out until 5-point harnesses become standard to keep everyone safely secured 30 feet above the ground. And I don’t participate in any activity that makes me move faster than I can run. I figure this will spare me from any horrendous collision injuries or simply dying from fear because I’m going too fast. My kids make fun of me and my husband just shakes his head in embarrassment. Whatever – TLC hasn’t called me yet to do some show on weird fears and phobias so I can’t be that bad.

So Tuesday was a big day and a crazy morning as everyone got ready for the day on slopes. We were the guests of my brother and sister in-law and their 2 young boys at age 3 and 6. So picture if you can the frenzy around getting 3 adults and 4 kids hopped up on Honey Nut Cheerios dressed for a day of skiing. My two kids and their 6 year-old cousin did surprisingly well getting themselves organized. But watching my sister in-law get their 3 year-old swaddled in layers of ski gear was like watching someone put socks and lace-up shoes on an octopus; only the octopus could speak and come up with very eloquent arguments as to why each item was totally unnecessary and unbearably itchy.

When they all came in for lunch, red faced and beaming, it was pretty entertaining to listen to the banter between a 3, 6, 7 and 10 year-old as they boasted about how deep the powder was and how hard they could shred their turns’. Even more entertaining was the uncontainable pride on their papa’s faces; I may have even seen a welled-up eye.

Needless to say after a full day of skiing topped off with a few runs under the lights, the kids were completely spent. They could barely eat, let alone summon the strength to beat on each other; papas were spent too, sleepy and sore in front of the hockey game…all without a care in the world save thoughts of the next day of skiing in the deepest powder on the planet. Life is good, really good.