Good Mum = Bad Skier

Hurray!  We had a massive storm here in California yesterday and it looks as though we’ll have great snow for our ski trip to Mammoth this weekend.

I’ve only been skiing for a few years and as it’s a sport I’ve learnt with my sensible head rather than a young, who cares if I get hurt attitude, I get so annoyed at myself for not being a very good skier.

At school I was one of those annoying people that could play every sport, would captain sports teams and throw myself into every game with great gusto.

So, here I am now trying to learn and perfect a sport that I struggle with.  It’s all in my head.  I know what to do.  I just spend my time worrying that I’m going to go to fast, lose control and hurt myself.

It’s also a strange sport in that, just as I’m getting back into it and getting my speed up, all the snow goes away and that’s it for another year.  Or I get the hang of the conditions and then we have a massive snowfall and everything changes, or there’s no snowfall whatsoever and the slopes freeze.

My worst problem is the fact that we all ski as a family.  I spend my entire time coming down the slopes looking for everyone else.  My 10-year-old son charges ahead and I stress out that I’m going to lose him.  He spends his time looking for bumps to jump over or trees to weave in and out of.  We’ve since decided he needs to take a mobile phone with him for safety so that he can do his daredevil things and meet us at the bottom.  It’s also very irritating to have a 10 year old ask why you were going so slowly.  He stands there waiting for you with a look of sheer boredom resonating through his goggles.

Meanwhile my youngest son has been learning how to snowboard, he’s a bit slower so I try not to get too far ahead but still give him enough space and encouragement that he’ll pick up his speed.  Add into the fact that Danny’s flying all over the place, additional skiers and snowboarders to think about – my head can’t cope with it all and my speed slows down to a very irritating dawdle down the slopes.

I’m like a mother duck, dashing all over the slopes trying to make sure everyone is safe and secure and following the correct way down to the ski lift.

What I need to do is be completely selfish and just hurl myself down the mountain and hope everyone meets up at the lift as agreed at the top of the mountain.  And hope that I don’t break a leg so that I can still do the school run the following week.

I just can’t do that.  I’m a Mum.  I need to make sure everyone is where they need to be and safe.  But that means I’m not a good skier.  I need to leave my mumminess behind and find my inner skier.  I have to forget what’s in my head and attack the slopes

That’s the challenge I’ve set for myself this ski season.  I’ll let you know how I get on.  I hope I can type with a broken arm but at least my son won’t glare at me with boredom.