This Ain't No Black Diamond....

What a difference a day makes.  Yesterday we were with blizzard conditions and wind chills at close to zero today was bluebird skies and 6-8 inches of fresh snow!

Jeff had to work, one was down for the count on sickness, so it was the three of us hitting first trax on the ski slopes.  Funny, how getting to that fresh powder is a life long ambition of many, with the first lift rides resembling a Who Concert of who's getting off and beating all the other skiers to the fresh snow.  I totally understood as I was in full sweat from getting to the top of a run and DANGIT, someone beat me to it.

Of course, you wish for it and sometimes if pays you back.  The snow was fresh and deep and as I had my first yardsale (the process by which a skier loses every part of their equipment in an epic wipeout) I realized this was so different from my icy skiing of Beech Mountain.  After making it down my first run (out of breath) I realized that I needed a few adjustments to my technique - specifically finding the groomed runs.

I go all morning with the boys, non stop until around noon when I am ready for a break and possibly a beer.  Of course, murphy's law, my husband calls and joyfully says, "I'm here, let's RIDE!"

Dayum.

They take me up to the top of the lift.  We get off on what resembles Morodor - or the Cliffs of Doom.  The rest of the family is excited, I however am looking around thinking, "It's a beautiful view, but how do we get down?"

My hubby answers my question, "Do the Double Black Diamond Kelly, everyone says it is an easy Black Diamond."

(Did I mention that Jeff heard this in the bar before coming to meet me, did I also mention that he didnt' tell me this before he took me up the lift)

So, I love testing my limits, but my Quads already hate me at this point from skiing all day, and as I stand at the top of a ledge looking down thinking, "OK, this ain't no black diamond."

My problem at this point:

I have no way to go but down.
I have to go to the bathroom so I cannot bust it on this one.
Everyone has already gone, am I going to be shown up by a 9 year old?

Unfortunately, I am committed.

It takes me 30 minutes.  A few wipeouts, a few turns that I am not proud of (one ski, holy shit type of moves) and I make it to the bottom with a deep breath.

Oh, what?

The only way down is this second double black diamond called,  "You'll Never Survive This One Kelly."  Another 30 minutes later, I am crawling over to the lift where the rest of the family is standing there looking annoyed.

"Where were you," they say, looking amazingly rested because they've been waiting for me for 20 minutes.

"Surviving," I get out as I almost fall over into the snow.

"Well, what are we waiting for - let's get going....."

Ugh.

Sometimes Your Butt Must Say What's On Its Mind

We stepped out of the condo, walking down to the lift, ready for a day on the snow.  My butt however, had better ideas.

"Do you realize it is snowing?  And if it is snowing, then it is below freezing.  Which means I am not happy.  What?  You are still getting on the lift, didn't I explain that it is cold here, meaning it is freezing up there?"

I don't listen to it, because who listens to their butt anyway, and ride the lift up to the top of the mountain.  The kids are excited and as I ski a few runs keeping up with them, my butt starts again, "Aren't you freezing?"

I look around, there's no one there, so I can talk to my butt, "Yes, I am freezing.  But they are having a great time so I am just going to suck it up."

The wind blows again, stopping me in my skis, my butt sighs, "I give up, you're on your own.  I hope we survive this."

I stop by the trees and say out into the blowing snow and wind, "Well maybe I'm attempting to freeze my butt off, OK?"

My butt, is now having a conversation with my hands, "You tell her."

My hands, cough a little bit then whisper, "Hey.  Have you noticed that the tips of your fingers are starting to sting a little bit?"

I'm skiing down my favorite run and choose to ignore both of them.  At the bottom as I work over to the lift they start again.

"I hate to be a pain in the butt, but I don't have feeling in my first and ring finger."

"My goodness you sat again in a seat full of snow."

"Are we done yet?"

I smile at the family, hunkering down for each lift ride, telling myself that I can do it and I will because:
a.  I paid a lot of money for these lift tickets, and WILL get my money's worth.
b.  Everyone else seems fine, I'm the only one suffering.
c.  Sometimes it is not about me.

Finally after another hour to two, both my hands, my butt and my feet have decided to stop talking to me.

One of the kids leans over in the lifts, "I'm freezing, can we go down to the condo and add another layer?"

Everyone else in the groups immediately adds, "Yeah, I need my long underwear.  Why didn't I put that fleece on.  I'm afraid to move my toes."

I look at all of them thinking, "I guess if I was feeling that way everyone else was, I guess I should ahve said something sooner.

We ski down to the condo, my butt, fingers and feet saying, "I told you so."

How do you get 3 boys to a destination.....

Things that will happen when traveling with boys.  2 flights 2+ hours each.

One of my children went walking by with bulging pockets after casually passing by the hostess stand of the restaurant.  Me standing with my hands on my hips watching him empty 62 mints back in to the bowl.

Amazing what boys can do when they are excited to trash a hotel room:

One was jumping from bed to bed while I was trying to have a conversation with my hubby.

The other was in the one and only bathroom of the hotel room for a VERY long time.

A third was constantly knocking on the door trying to get the second one out of said bathroom.

So we make our 650am flight, hauling 4 ski bags (they resemble body bags) along with 3 other rolling bags, back packs and one purse.  

I always laugh watching my husband loose it when trying to control everyone checking in.  Max is doing 360's by the ticketing kiosks, Matthew is wrestling Wolfgang, and I am acting like I don't know anyone. 

Jeff hands everyone their boarding pass and within 5 seconds of giving them their boarding pass, Max has already lost his.  I just walk away while Jeff is lecturing about being responsible and taking care of your things.

We go to the club and Matthew smashes Max in the elevator, all three boys disappear into the men's room of the club for a VERY long time.  I'm mortified when I watch the cleaning lady go in behind them - she doesn't know what she is in for.

On the plane because my husband is preferred status, American offered him a complimentary drink and complimentary snacks for the family.

The boys, "Wow, we get FOOD on this FLIGHT!  I guess we didn't need to put all those mints from the hotel in our pockets to feed us."

The flight attendant, comes up to me, "MRS. MELANG, YOUR HUSBAND HAS A COMPLIMENTARY DRINK, HE SAYS YOU WANT IT.  DO YOU WANT A DRINK?"

I almost want to whisper to her, "Jeez lady, it's 730am do you have to announce to the whole plane that I get a FREE DRINK."

Oh she doesn't stop there, "WE CAN GET YOU A MIMOSA OR A BLOODY MARY WHAT TYPE OF DRINK DO YOU WANT?  WE HAVE WINE AND VODKA AND WHISKEY."

I see everyone on the plane looking at me, then they look over at the three boys and full understanding dawns on them.  I whisper to her what I want.

"OH A BLOODY MARY IT IS, JEAN CAN YOU GET MRS. MELANG A BLOODY MARY?"

And you wonder why at 7am I am drinking a bloody mary, here's why:

Oh and add SOMEONE having gas the entire one hour drive, stinking up the car.  Jeff and I went shopping and when we went to put everything in the back of the car, the boys had farted so much in the car that opening the trunk it felt like it farted in our face!

But their excitement makes all the mishaps bearable as I see them start to quiver when we drive through  the mountains and get first look at the ski resorts.  I think I am ready for this.

If I don't survive the 9 days, look for me buried underneath a snow drift-----but happy.

WTF - Tag You're It!

So I'm happily stalking all my friends on Facebook, when all of a sudden a red notification button appears.

"So and So has tagged you in a photo."

Oh.

No.

Immediately my mind goes back to what I did last night.

I was cool.  I think.  Nothing crazy.

Oh wait, I was dancing, wasn't I?

Immediately I go to the picture.  Hoping it was not from the night before because, and I have to pull all the cuss words out of what I was saying to myself, "I wasn't wearing the most flattering outfit benefitting a picture of tagment on the Book of Face."

My computer sensing my discomfort that there is some picture out there in the stratosphere of me that I cannot get to, immediately decides that my wireless router will not work when I am just pulling up the picture that has my name screaming all over the internet.

NOOOOOO!!

I have to go and reboot the router.  Wait the agonizing 15 seconds to replug it in, wondering if I should just jump on the hot spot of my phone because....

God, what is the picture and what I am doing???????

I am praying the it is some inspirational prayer about trees and nothing to worry about.  But only I know what I have been doing with my friends lately, and I cannot tell you how many of them have smart phones.

They mean well.

"Oh look, here's a picture of Kelly in the 176 pictures I uploaded from Alex's 2nd version of his 15th birthday party."

No one thinks before they tag, important things like:

Well, doesn't Kelly look like a fat cow in this one.
Oh look, Kelly's boobs are falling out of her shirt, is that a nipple I see?
Wait a minute, is that a donkey behind Kelly, who's tongue is, in the picture, in a very appropriate place.
Who is that girl standing inappropirately close to Kelly and why is she staring at her like that.

No, they go ahead and load a photo, tag me in it and don't think of the consequences.



Finally, the router comes back online, now I have to wait for the computer to catch up.  Facebook is like, "Oh I'm sorry, is this important to you?  Well, we've changed our algorhythms so that you cannot see it!"

I'm searching wondering if the one time my friend took her phone into the bathroom at that bar resulted in the photo, when the photo finally pops up.

Oh, wait.  Look it's one from when I am seventeen.

Dayum, I look pretty hot.

And skinny.

And when did I have those legs.

All that worry over nothing.  I guess I'll leave the tag.

Just as I sigh in relief, a second notification pops up on my screen.

Nicole Morgan has tagged you in a photo.

Oh shit, she lives in South Florida.

It could be a bathing suit photo.

Facebook says, "Oh, now is the perfect time to SLLLOOOOWWWW DDDOOOWWWNNN."

WTF - Do not make me go there!

I've explained to my children that I am a sweet, wonderful girl.  They, however have sucked the sweetness out of my until I resemble this old crone, pointing a finger at them saying, "You!  You did this to me!"  How did they do it?  Let me start my list.

Mothering moment of the day.  I don't know what I hate more, folding laundry, matching socks, or putting it away.  But coming back to my folded laundry and finding that someone was "looking for something" and DESTROYED it?  So what did I do?

I went into their room, taking each piece of clean laundry, folding it into a ball and throwing it at them.  "No, I'm not folding it anymore.  Why should I, you just ball it up and leave it on the floor anyway."  Oh, that they were laughing while dodging clean underwear - well, that didn't help.

Where Is such and such?  Seriously, do you think because I am the only one in this house with boobs that they will automatically point to the object you are looking for?  Especially when you push your favorite pair of pants under your bed.  I'll automatically know where they are AND take them and wash them?

Do not even think of asking me to find something when you are late for school.  I can safely say that if they ever recast the movie Rumplestilkskin, they have a leading character in me!  If it is the, "Oh, I forgot my school project,"  to "where is my belt, my pants are falling down," don't spring things on me at the last minutes.  Don't especially tell me 2 minutes before we are due to walk out the door that you don't have any "clean" clothes.  They are clean, you just let them fall into balls on the floor and didn't pick them up.  If the dog has peed on them but they have not been in the washing machine since I last washed them, in my dictionary - THEY ARE CLEAN.

Newsflash - when you leave an empty container in the refrigerator - there isn't some fairy that appears magically filling it back up.  That is true for:
Yogurt containers  (Seriously, who leaves the empty yogurt container in the fridge WITH THE SPOON IN IT?)
Ice cream containers
orange juice
Danimals
Jello

The last roll of toilet paper is not the lost scroll of Amenhotep.  Touching it will not make you go blind. There are a few things you do in the bathroom that may accomplish that.

And if you really want to piss Mom off, leave the empty box of Butterscotch Krimpets in the pantry.  When I sneak in there at 10pm, and reach for it and find it EMPTY.

"Aaagh!!!"

Now that you are old enough, there are few things I will not do:
I don't pour glasses of milk.
I don't put dishes in the dishwasher
I don't smell socks to see if they are clean.
I will NEVER, I repeat NEVER pull your finger (you learned this from Daddy)

There you have it, I've lowered my standards because you've lowered yours.  Here's what I'm doing:

I'm throwing the pile of laundry on your bed until you can't stand it and fold it yourself.  (see how you like turning every single T-shirt right side in!)

I'm hiding a plate, utensils, and cup for me (you're resorted to finally eating off the counter because everything has disappeared into your room.

I'm hiding the toilet paper to make sure A, there's always some for me and B. You don't know where it is.

Oh and that bullhorn I just bought.  Well you'll find out about that tomorrow morning.

And finally, I'm leaving the seat DOWN after I pee.

Don't mess with Momma!

What did you say?

Just to help you out.  Here are how some comments in my home are tranlated by my Mom Brain.

Significant Other - "Good Morning Sweetie."

Translation - "Why are you standing there eating that Krispy Kreme doughnut, don't you know it goes straight to your waist?"

Child - "What's in my lunch box?"

Translation - did you give me something good or ANOTHER peanut and butter jelly sandwich?

Child - "Why do I have to go to bed now?"

Translation - "I really want to be a jackass in the morning and going to bed early is foiling my evil plan."

BFF - "Would you like a taste?"

Translation - "I know you hate what you ordered for lunch, but you cannot finish off mine."

BFF - "I'm not sure about that one."

Translation - "Those white leggings look like sausage casings on your ass, actually, they may be cutting off the circulation to your cankles.  And believe me the looks you would get wearing that?  You'll thank me for giving you advice."

ME - "I was up all night reading my book."

Translation - "OK, I ending up in a marathon on Criminal Minds, but reading for fifteen minutes before going to bed cancels that brainless activity out."

ME - "You'll eat it and you'll like it."

Translation - "Sure it tastes like shit, I made it.  But someone has to eat it, AND it's is healthy."

ME - "Because I said so."

Translation - "I have no answer, and I'm pissed off.  You'd better stop now before things get ugly."

BFF - "Did you see the new tunics at Bella Nova Boutique?"

Translation - "Obviously you haven't been working on your sit ups - you're gonna need those."

It is easy when you have the translations to understand either:

a.  The look you get from your wife, mother, other.
b.  The slap from said person, or
c.  That silence when you ask "Are you OK?" and they answer, "I'm fine."

Translation - someone is sleeping in the dog house that night and it's not her.

Do you have any translations you would like to add?

WTF - How late nights cost you money...

My kids are working really hard to either put me in the insane asylum or the poor house - some days I feel like it is both.

When the oldest lost his first tooth, it couldn't have come at a worst time.  I was broke.  Broke in as I had no cash on me.  Forgot about the tooth fairy until 5am the next morning.  Was thinking I could just write him a check from the tooth fairy but then how could I black out my name and address.  Figured he would have to be dissapointed but sweet hubby found a twenty dollar bill in his wallet.

My son as he got on the bus, "My tooth fairy is ultra cool, she leaves 20 dollar bills!"

So do the math, both kids loose 26 teeth at 20 bucks a pop.  Yeah, I have a home equity line for that one.

The Secret Stash

My son has a false book.  He took one of my books (thank goodness not a favorite) and hollowed out the inside creating his "secret stash."  Now as Moms know, when we need cash we can sniff it out of anywhere in the house.

We've checked for freshly laundered money in the dryer.
We've hit all the pockets of all the jackets in the home.

Nothing.

So I sniff out his secret stash and pull out a twenty to send in with the other child to cover his Field Trip that day.  Knowing that I will return the money later that day.

He comes home from school, "Let me go and check my stash!"
Me.  "NOOOO!   Um, not yet."


It's late, I'm tired, so I pull the cash back out of my wallet and stuff it back in the stash.  There, now he can check it.

The next morning, my son, "Holy cow!"
Me, "What?"
"Look!  I have 60 dollars in my stash!  Do you think the leprechaun left money this time?  Because I haven't lost a tooth and there's two extra 20 dollars in there?"
I sigh, "Yeah baby, I'm sure it was the leprechaun."

WTF Note to Self:  It is not a good idea to do anything late at night or first thing in the morning.  Late at night, you can blame that glass of wine in your brain, first thing in the morning, you just blame yourself.

So don't:
Count money
Text anyone, I repeat text anyone.
Write Facebook Posts
Count money again.
Say what is really on your mind.
Hit the fridge -- I mean, really?  Then why is there a light in it.

There.

Go do something productive late at night - like dig a hole in your neighbor's backyard about the size of a body then fill it back in.

You're welcome.