About four years ago, in the winter of 2005, right before I met Paul, I took my girls, Sophia and Eva, on a ski trip in the Sierra Mountains.  I was a single mother and it was our first road trip together with just the three of us. I was determined to make the three hour drive by myself even though I was terrified of driving in the snow.  Factor in the fact that I really didn’t know how to ski and I had to wonder, “What the hell am I doing?” My girls begged me to go since they never got to see snow where we live and I knew I had to conquer my fears, so I made the reservations. At the last minute, my good friend and neighbor Susie, asked if she and her daughter Gina could join us. Our girls were best friends so they were thrilled and I was relieved not to  have to go alone.  We piled into our crammed minivan, blared some tweener music on the radio, and set out with glee and anticipation for our first all girl snow/ski trip.  As we pulled up to our cabin, it started to snow. The girls were delighted. They squealed. As they built snowmen, Susie and I unpacked and set up house in our “rustic” cabin. “Rustic” in some circles is another word for “dump”. But we didn’t mind. It was affordable, the girls were happy, the wood burning stove worked AND it was SNOWING!!

The next two days we all went skiing. The girls and I took lessons, and with practice,  we all mastered the bunny slopes (even though the ski lift scared the heck out of me). In the evenings the girls watched movies or played board games and Susie and I talked over a glass of wine. I confided in her my disillusionment and disappointment over not having any luck in the dating department. I was ready to give up I told her. I still remember her words of support.  “Don’t give up”, she said. “You are too good for a man to pass up. Some wonderful man will come along and he will see what a terrific person you are.”  I was grateful for her  encouragement and it got me thinking.  I couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to be there in the snow with a man. We could sit in the hot tub together, (if the “rustic” cabin had one. It did not.) sipping wine and well… you know. That would be nice.  When I got home I decided I would give it another go. I would put my profile back up on Match.com and I would find the man of my dreams.  (To read the profile I wrote, click here.)

Well, it worked. I did find the man of my dreams and then some. He had three kids and with my two, that made five all together. We’re The Brady Bunch without Bobby … and Alice.  Fast forward four years later. We’ve gotten married, moved in together and blended our families.  We have been on many vacations together, but never to the snow. The kids had been asking us to take them on  a ski trip and this year we obliged.  I made reservations at a “deluxe”  lake view cabin paneled with knotty pine, complete with  a sauna in the basement and a hot tub on the deck. This trip would be my dream come true.  Although, as it turns out, not exactly what I had pictured.

When we  arrived at the cabin the kids were excited to get inside. All but a car length’s patch of snow had been plowed from the steep driveway.  Paul backed the Suburban up against a very large mound of snow that we had to climb over to get to the front door. The children all barrelled out of the car and clamored up to the front porch while Paul shovelled a path behind them.  I got out last. Just as I was about to step over the mound of snow, I slipped, fell and slid UNDER THE CAR!

I screamed, “Paul! Help me!”

“Where are you?” 

“I’m under the car!”

“What are you doing under the car?”

“I fell for crying out loud. Get me out!”

He reached down and pulled me out. I could not have gotten out myself because I kept sliding on the ice and there was nothing to grasp on to. I suppose I could have just slid out the other side of the car, but Paul acted quickly and pulled me to safety. If you are claustrophobic, trust me, you don’t want to be under a car.

Once freed, I inspected my body for signs of injury. Everything appeared in tact except for my brand new winter white polar fleece jacket that was covered in axle grease.  My ego was somewhat wounded as well, as Paul laughed mockingly at me, and the kids, in their typical teenage self-absorption, did not notice or care. (Throughout the rest of the trip, Paul, in a grand chivalrous manner, would extend his arm out to me to assist me wherever we walked. “Help your mother kids, we don’t want her to fall,” he would say.) This was not a good beginning.

The cabin was gorgeous. Just like I pictured it. And there was a hot tub on the deck.  While I unpacked the food and  the kids put on their snow clothes, Paul took a shovel and headed out to explore. He came back a little while later and announced he had found the perfect sledding hill. We grabbed the saucers off the porch and followed him.  Paul  was right, it was the perfect sledding hill. Not too steep, but with a long finish and no trees at the bottom. He had used the shovel to pack down the snow to make it extra slippery. We all took turns. Some kids splintered off to make igloos and snowmen, and there was of course, the inevitable snowball fight.

As we got cold and tired, we went inside. Paul lit the fire and I put a casserole in the oven. He and I couldn’t wait to be alone in the  hot tub. But guess what? We weren’t alone. Even when it was just the two of us in the hot tub the five kids were on the other side of the window in the livingroom playing Monopoly.  We had to sneak in kisses and warm embraces, but I have never felt a stronger bond or connection with him like I did on that trip. He’s my guy. He can pull me out from underneath a car, build the perfect sledding hill AND over the next two days he taught all the kids how to snowboard and ski. Even though we had enrolled them in lessons, it was Paul’s individual attention to each of the children that gave them the confidence and boost they needed to really have fun.

Skiing, in many ways, is the perfect metaphor for life. It can be very challenging and scary with lots of steep hills and slippery slopes. Success, often times,  can seem very far off in the distance. If you fall, you have to learn how to get back up. With lots lots of danger and mishaps along the way, skiing, like life, is something  you really shouldn’t experience alone.

One final note: I am proud to say that after much trial and error, I have finally conquered my fear of the ski lift.