It was a bit of a ride to our Easter celebration this year (We opted to spend it with the family of my oldest daughter's fiance so we can all get to know one another better...) and I was able to really enjoy the majestic beauty of the still snow-topped mountains. A long drive sends the mind wandering and speaking of mountains, I realized I had not yet blogged about a really critical event that happened earlier this winter: One day, over winter break, I decided to go downhill skiing. It had been a number of years since I had gone, and it isn't something I am really all that good at, but I just wanted to go. At first, it was going to be a date -day with my husband, but when our newest foster son blew out of vacation camp, that was not going to happen... so I had the surprising idea to invite Cheyanne to ski with me instead. (Dad got to stay at home to be the new vacation camp.. but that's another story...) Now.. if you have read my Blogs to this point, you are saying to yourself, "what.. is she crazy? " and there were moments when I would have replied with agreement. It did indeed appear to be a crazy move. But the invitation went out, I was committed.. so I went with it.
Now, I prepared myself for the worst. Cheyanne had taken ski lessons with the rest of the family for a few years as well, so she had some experience, but it had also been 3-4 years since she had been on the mountain, so who knew what this would look like... Is skiing like riding a bike? Does it all come back to you even after years away? Who knew... We began on the bunny mountain just to get our 'sea-legs' .. and that went surprisingly well. I only got a little attitude so we moved on to the real mountain. Half-way up was our next mark and we navigated the lift well and even managed to get off in one piece.. but then things started crumbling. Cheyanne panicked a bit and was not able to control her skis on this steeper mountain and was spending more time on the ground tangled up in a heap than she was skiing. The pleasant mood was disintegrating as her angry curses flew through the air. I was thinking.. hard.. a lot.... looking for ways to navigate through.. Amazingly I was able to stay level and connected myself as I skiied over to her. I managed to spit out a couple of simple corrections that I thought might help her (dodging the verbal barrage that was the response to assistance) and then informed her that I thought it would be better if I skiied down alone this run so she would have a chance to re-learn her skis without an audience. I told her I would get off halfway again and come back to see how she was doing. She was not happy. It was a risk. It worked. I practice my own skills of self-regulation as I skiied down the hill and then went back up the lift. I saw her from my aerial perch.. sitting there in the same heap I had left her in.. watching for me.. I got off and as I skiied back down to her I saw her still in the same heap.. watching me. As I got closer I noted that she was working on standing again, and as I approached, she stood up and skiied down to me, staying upright the rest of the way down the hill without falling. Neither of us said anything. When we got to the bottom successfully I softly suggested that she might want to stop for the day and head to the lodge and was shocked when she responded that she wanted to try it again. I hesitated.. a million scenarios running through my head.. but again I trusted my gut and relented. Going up in the chairlift together the second time, Cheyanne cheerfully bantered back and forth, positively connecting in many ways. We joked about falling off the lift. We commented about other skiiers. We remarked on the beauty of the mountain. As we neared the halfway point, we decided to get off together and successfully skiied down the mountain with no falls. The rest of the day was a success with many other incidents of positive connectin and regard. At the end of the day we decided to make it a tradition. Just Cheyanne and I.. downhill skiing and connecting together. Phew.... a success.
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