Today, we woke up to rain. Determined to enjoy our weekly date together on our favorite mountain, Aspen Highlands we tried to be optimistic and not comment on the fact that Global Warming is putting a real damper on our skiing.

We had pancakes, talked softly so as not to wake up Tucker who was staying home with his grandparents, and took off for skiing.

We dropped off our older boys with their ski instructors and watched as they lunged their hellos into their unsuspecting friends  knocking them to the ground in all of their excitement, get wet early is their motto.

The drop off location for ski school was a sea of color as the kids showed up in their latest super cool, bright, zany ski clothes. We watched appalled, from the distance, as Brevitt called his teacher a fart face and got his ski pole chucked way off into the distant powder. His instructor, has had Brevitt for three years and knows exactly how to handle him.

We left the boys excited for their day, chomping at the bit to  land 360’s and explore more secret stashes in the trees to proudly show to us later. This was our third Saturday, out of eight, where we could hike and ski the bowl without even looking at a terrain park.

No, I do not like hanging out in terrain parks nervously watching our children catch more and more air. They should have a sign on the parks, “Not suited for mothers who are not taking Valium”.

“Wow”, they ask excitedly, “did you see the big air I got?” I neglect to tell them that my eyes were actually closed as they jumped.

Occasionally, when I get the urge to attempt a rail, the boys sweetly plead with me feigning that they are concerned for my safety when I know that their real motive is to save themselves from being hugely embarrassed in front of their fellow sagging homies.

Wade and I floated through the quiet powder catching face shots in the trees and finally they opened the gate to the bowl where  we joined the frothing masses to climb to the superior powder.

I was still elated by the two laps I had done in the Bowl last Saturday and was ready to attempt the same today but I underestimated the complexities of nature. A 40 degree bluebird day does not offer the same challenges as a wet and snowy 37 degree day with eight inches of new snow to fill in the pre-existing boot packed trail.

I implored Wade not to wait for his painfully slow wife as I could tell that today would be another one of those Everest-like days where I begged him to just leave me to the elements.

I have always told him that if ever we should end up in a survivor situation he may as well eat me right away and get it over with. I would be useless to him in any other way. He resisted my pleas for him to abandon me and informed me that he had no desire to leave me, at the moment. The man ahead of us could not help himself and turned back to tell Wade that he was an amazing husband.

The hike was as painful as I had imagined and we cut in early, instead of continuing the painful hike to the top. I watched as he skied gracefully down. Thankfully, nobody was there to watch me as I stumbled over the dynamite blasted snow. Skiing is the one place where I am not afraid but today was different. We have lost to many friends to avalanches to ignore that there are real dangers out there.

The wet snow and the hike chilled me to the bone and I left Wade, full of adrenaline, to take his second lap. I skied down No Name Bowl and encountered ski patrollers taking down an injured person in a sled. I marveled at their passion and bravado as they efficiently struggled through the steep terrain and deep powder to bring this person to safety.

Feeling dry and happy in the warm restaurant, my bliss was aborted when I received the dreaded call from Wade. He had hit a rock skiing and had fallen badly on his shoulder. I was to meet him at the bottom and take him to ER.

At the hospital, Wade was given morphine as they examined his cracked scapula. The doctors listened incredulously, as he told them that he had refused to be taken down in a sled and had skied down on his own. He is such a badass just like his father.

Everybody asks me if I was nervous when I got the call from Wade that he was hurt. I realize that I have toughened up in the past nine years. As long as there is a conscious voice on the other line and I get confirmation that all limbs are still moving, than I am not so worried

Wade and I got robbed of our intimate dates in the Bowl. I suppose there are other things we can do on the Saturdays when the boys are in ski-school. I could go hot tubbing with him with a picnic lunch and perhaps some champagne. I will do what it takes to make him happy, unless it is a powder day or a perfect blue-bird day, that is common law in our neck of the woods. Of course, I’ll feed Wade a good breakfast, give him a big kiss goodbye and give him an IOU for intimacy later.