The F-Bomb

Every single moment of every single day as a parent, I've decided, humbles and reminds me of how much of a teacher we parents are, whether we like it or not.  This weekend it's been BEAUTIFUL in Vancouver and we've soaked every minute of outside time possible out of it.  For the first time since we arrived, we ventured to Grouse Mountain in hiking clothes instead of skiing clothes.  We traded our helmets for sunscreen and boots for tennis shoes and hit the runs walking normally - realizing that my husband and children really had been zooming down rock face cliffs was quite sobering.  It was important for Philip to venture down The Cut Run as there's one spot each time he skis down that gets under his skin and sends him into fits of self-talk until he reaches the bottom of the run.  There was something spiritual about walking to that very spot and conquering it and then drinking in the views of downtown that aren't visible when the skies are filled with snow clouds.  It was a lovely day.

First patch of snow we encountered - from clearing paths assumedly...

More snow!  My hunch is this was one of the season's jumps on the Cut Run.

King and Queen of the World!

Downtown as seen from The Cut Run

Then - we saw that Lydia's Ski School building transforms into a hub for ecotours and a viewing point for the two Grizzly Bears who make their home at Grouse.  It was amazing really, to be that close to such large creatures, and to actually want to pet these wild animals before you snap back into the reality that they could break you in half.  We walked past the site of the "Magic Carpet" that escorts skiiers to the top of the hill, giving their legs a brief respite from their intense work and observed that it actually sits about 3 feet off the ground - and we watched them dig that strip of moving rubber out of snow while assuming it set right on the ground mere weeks ago.  Down to the chair lift we walked because we saw people riding on that engineering marvel to the top of Grouse Mountain (marketed as the "Peak of Vancouver") and learned that our local's pass gained us a free ride up to the top!  Right about now you're probably thinking we're really lucky to live in a place where chair lifts come with season entry and ski resorts turn into hiking meccas in the Spring and Summer.  My friends - while you're right from a financial standpoint, my heart function respectfully disagrees.

I love my children.  I love my children so much it hurts and so much that it makes me irrational sometimes.  I love my children so much that I walked up to the red square painted on that wooden deck like I was excited and I sat on that moving chair and was off the ground before I ever even knew what had happened.  The piddly little bar that sat across my thighs was supposedly a safeguard against a most painful and grueling death that would happen if I fell out - and I prayed for that death because if I just fell down and broke a lot of bones then I'd be really irritated when normal life got interrupted.  I did OK for the first portion of the trip as we could see the bears' habitat from the lift and I was distracted looking sideways instead of straight up at the near 90 degree angle that lift took to the peak (OK it was really more like a 50 degree angle max, but it may as well have been straight up).  We were reminding the kids of the importance of not swinging the chair and not looingk around too much (so as not to have to look with them or deal with the fact that we were suspended over ground that looks much softer covered in a blanket of snow).  And then it happened.

The Death-Defying Lift

Our chair rolled gently, yet abruptly, to a STOP.  And we were NOT at our destination.  And the mother of all swear words flowed off my tongue as if I were uttering my children's names, calling them to dinner.  Yep - I dropped the F-bomb.  And while I thought it was silent, the deep, soul-tickling laughter that sprung from Henry's mouth made it clear I had betrayed the notion of silence.  And he laughed that deep laugh that I love to hear - except when I'm dangling in a death trap over a rocky surface below.  But I got tickled too - and laughed that nervous laughter that you laugh when you're really not supposed to laugh at all (you know, like during Communion or your child's Christmas concert when another child screams at their teachers) and the tears began flowing.  The good news/bad news of the situation was that the tears prevented my being able to see how far up we were but the laughter made our chair move more than I liked.  Alas - we were at least on our way again.  I finally calmed down enough and hushed Henry from making utterances about the likelihood of our falling, the beauty of the view behind us and such.  Then, I kid you not, the damn chair stopped again and there came that word AGAIN!  Cue laughter, chair movement and tears.

Once we finally started again (after about 3 seconds) and I calmed down again (about 3 minutes), I realized that whoever sat in our little death trap of a chair on the way down might think we greased the pole that sat on our thighs where my hands now sat.  The sweat on my palms was so prolific that a doctor would most certainly examined me for a possible cardiac event.  What seemed like a half hour later (probably more like 6 minutes), we debarked our chair, proclaimed victory to the lift attendant and proceeded to solid ground.  Had I thought the muscles in my legs might have allowed me (you see, they were still seized up in fear) I would have knelt and kissed the ground.  Our children laughed mightily at my fear, and frankly I did too.  Heights never used to bother me - I'm chalking it up to parenting changing my phobias.  Naturally - we walked down the run after admiring the lovely views.  We walked down a path with a warning sign that read: HIKING NOT RECOMMENDED because this path isn't monitored and there's loose stone.  BUT - it was ON. THE. GROUND.  The kids were freaked out by the gravel under their feet but we made them walk - after all - we'd faced our fears and it was their turn.

Views from the top - totally beautiful!

Warning: don't hike here (whatever!)

Once we got down the run, we grabbed a "beavertail" (fried pizza dough dipped in a cinnamon + sugar mix - don't judge - we'd earned it) and settled in for the lumberjack show.  It was a cute show that made us laugh ourselves into a more relaxed state and we headed for home.  The exhaustion set in - Henry slept in the car as we sat in traffic on the Lions Gate Bridge and we fell into the couch after we opened the door.  And suddenly I was alone with my thoughts for a brief moment - and it dawned on me.  I had single-handedly taught my children that when you fear for your life (whether it's rational or not) that the single best weapon you have against that fear is the F-bomb.  Frankly, I'm OK with that - and I'd forgive them for the same transgression if they involuntarily uttered that word under duress.  Now I can also rest easy that they know I'm not perfect - that has been a real tough façade to maintain all these years :)  Carry on, fellow parents - that's what we do - imperfections and all.  Carry on.

Henry's car snooze

A lovely Spring sunset to conjure a peaceful feeling...