Wade and I had a rough start getting the boys ready yesterday morning. Axel was moving slower than usual and Tucker woke up claiming that he hated ski school. Grumbling at each other I felt my mood plunging into anger.

We herded the boys into Vini-Man and finally got on the road. My mood started to improve when I realized that we were not going to be too late. It dipped again when Wade screeched the van to a halt and raced back to the house. He had packed all the kids gear and had forgotten his own. I tried to stifle my urge to state the obvious but it sputtered out anyway, “If you would just get Vini-Man loaded in the evening this would not happen”. He did not need to mention that it was my fault we were in this level of distress. After all it was I who had convinced him to dine at our friends’ house the night before. Our general rule is to stay home the night prior to ski school but I am not one to ever pass up an invitation to visit with friends.

We dropped off Tucker first at Powder Pandas. I was met with great resistance as I attempted to drag him to his instructor. All the tools learned from parenting classes were reverberating in my head but I didn’t have the time to use them. The boys were hiking up the Bowl and we couldn’t be late. I picked up Tucker in all of his ski clothes and hauled his 45pound mass of misery over to his teacher. Danny pleaded with me not to leave him with my crying child but today I had no choice. I apologized as I ran away shouting, “I’m sure you’ll both be fine”. I made a note to myself to increase Danny’s tip.

Wade raced on to the mountain as if he were driving in the Indy500. People watched as Vini-Man smoke out of the parking lot. The flames on the side of the van gave us away alerting all of our friends that the Livingston’s were late once again.

After dropping off the rest of the boys I took a deep breath and looked around. My veil of despondency melted away as I watched all of our friends gathering together. Saturdays on Aspen Highlands Mountain always reminds me of why I live in Colorado. After living in New York City I truly appreciate the value of living in a small town community where everybody knows one another.

In the beginning of the season the first ascent up to the top of Highlands is always a mixed bag of dread and excitement. Running into friends prior to hiking can affirm or relieve my fears. I dread the days when the bowl feels like Everest with high winds  howling off the face. The days I live for are when the temperatures are in the 30’s, the skiing is outrageous and the ski patrol is about to drop the gates on all of the supreme terrain. On these days my adrenaline rushes and turns me into a hyperventilating mess.

We hiked to the top of the Bowl and Wade was frothing at the mouth with the anticipation of hucking his skis into the newly opened slopes. He had been pent up for weeks with his broken shoulder and was ready to rock ‘n roll. I was in despair because I had forgotten to pack a surprise treat for the boys for when they reached the top of the Bowl. I demanded for Wade to leave me in his amped up state so that I could find out the  estimated arrival time of the ski classes.

Waiting at the top of the Bowl I soaked in the views surrounding me. The snowy mountains filled and enlightened my soul leaving me with a resonating peacefulness. Life was good regardless of all the obstacles. My good friend and personal trainer, Lisa Chapman, hiked up to greet me. We smiled at each other and acknowledged that we were a bunch of lucky coconuts, a quote taken from John Denver.

Launching off the top into the powdery mist we inhaled the cool air and began our descent thinking of nothing but our next turn. We knew that our children were close behind us having a similar experience and we would all soon reconvene at the bottom of the slope with rekindled souls and great stories to tell.

Life was good!

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.

On Christmas Day we arrived at my sister Michele’s house with the Vini-Man loaded with presents for all the cousins. The kids ran around in their pajamas taking them off throughout the day to plunge into the hot tub and then dive into the snow. It was a wonderful family day until Michele came back from a walk with her dog, Loki, with a concussion. Somehow Loki and Michele had a collision, her feet went out from under her and she landed on her head.

Michele, in a high anxiety state, put her head in her hands and sat on the steps in front of the stove. The children all gathered around her in deep concern. Testing her memory, she pointed to each child and told them their names. We all tried to be calm but really wanted to ask her questions to get a measure of how much she had forgotten. Was it just today or a lifetime of memories gone? We put her on the couch and sat with her for four hours answering her questions. Devon, the oldest of all the grandchildren, remarked on how we were living the same five minutes over and over again. “How did it happen? When did it happen? Did I get sick? Did Loki know that he had hurt me? Is this a bad concussion?”

When the anxiety started to subside, the humor set in. Michele, “How did it happen, or did I already ask you that? I feel like I’m having a déjà vu.” I was done with any false pretensions and agreed that it was a déjà vu kind of day.

I tentatively asked if she knew that Devon was a ski racer? She looked at me as if I was crazy. Of course she did. She also knew how to add doubles, until Brevitt got too high with the equations but that was normal math confusion. She knew all of our ages except hers but that was normal denial. We would get all excited that her anxiety had subsided and hazy memories were returning when she would have a relapse and forget everything.

To mix things up a bit we would bring her opened Christmas gifts and she would relive Christmas. “ooooh”, she exclaimed, “blue goggles, cool. Did I see these already? I like this shirt, it looks like something I would buy for myself, did I say that already?” Devon and I would glance at each other and smile. Brevitt wasn’t sure if it was funny or not and kept dropping himself into her lap. Nikki sweetly would question her mommy. India was quiet. At one point Michele looked at Tucker and said, “your so little, who are you”. There was silence, slight laughter and than concern until Michele laughed and said she was just kidding.

When I said we needed to cancel her sledding party scheduled for the next day she exclaimed, “I was having a party? That sounds like so much fun.” We finally went home to give her some rest. The comments about missing a fun party followed us out the door. “Was I having a great party tomorrow? I can’t believe we are not going to have that great party!”

I went to sleep laughing and concerned that things could worsen.  How thankful we all are that she did not get sick. Michele is not allowed to scare us like that. She is too adored by everyone. I am thankful that we only got a warning this time. If only I could keep all of my loved ones protected by a big invisible shield.

Me with my middle sister, Michele.