Slippery, Slidy, Saturday Story...
On a mild March Manitoba afternoon, what could be better than playing in the snow?
This past Saturday, we bundled up the girls and hit the slope. (Well...bump in our park.)
We got as far as the back gate before we hit the first snag. The back gate was frozen to the ground. In hearty, prairie style my husband got out the ice chisel and shovel and hacked away while the kids sat on their sled and chanted, "Let's go!"
We prevailed against the ice, and pushed onward through the massive 3 foot drifts in the park that lead to the hill. My husband pulled the sled. With each step his foot sank into two feet of snow. He trudged inch by inch as his knees cracked and buckled. The girls shouted, "Faster daddy! Wheeeee!" and he tried to speed up in order to maintain his hero status. In between, their cheers I could make out his mumbles, "I thought I was in better shape than this" or "whose idea was this".
While D.J. heroically struggled on, I had a challenge of my own. There is thick layer of hard snow which covers the drifts. Trying to avoid the massive cardio workout (and subsequent cardiac arrest) which engaged D.J's efforts, I stepped gingerly across the top of the drifts. Testing my weight with each step, I slowly made my way through the park. The challenge became a battle between the drift, and me. I tried to think airy thoughts, "I'm a cloud, I'm weightless, I'm a feather.." With each successful step, I would celebrate my hard work at the gym in keeping slight enough to delicately glide across the drifts, until I heard it. Crunch.
The sound of defeat that pierced my elegant thoughts a split second before my foot plunged down into the drift. "Dang! That extra burger was a bad idea!"
I recovered my confidence, lifted my ginormous thigh out of the snow and tried again. After a few more tentative, successful steps...Crunch. Another foot, knee deep in the snow. "Crap! No more chocolate bars after 9pm!" I told myself.
As we approached the hill, D.J. stopped for a breath so the girls jumped out of the sled, running ever so delicately across the tops of the drifts at lightening speed.
Their laughter roused me from my self-esteem Russian roulette.
The girls ran up the hill, with their exhausted parents dragging their crackly knees as fast as possible. Red cheeked, snotty-nosed smiling from ear to ear, they rode down the hill with squeals of delight. Each ride was a whirlwind thrill, that ended with an instant cry, "Again! Let's do that AGAIN!"
A quick jaunt up the hill, and off they went, zooming down as fast as they could! Their laughter was contagious, and the thrilling looks of exhilaration made each ride a thrill to watch.
Eventually, two tired parents found themselves laughing, effortlessly chasing two angelic imps and taking turns sliding down. Suddenly, the air was crisp not cold, the running was exhilarating, not exhausting and how much a person weighed was irrelevant. All that mattered was sharing the experience and riding ONE MORE TIME!
On the slow walk home, after the "I have to pee" announcement, we were all smiling, snotty noses and all. The joy of family, shared experience, sacrifice, and fun in the snapshot of a Saturday afternoon. There is an inexplicable contentment that rushes over when I hear my daughters laugh that makes every hardship, joyful.
It must be love.
On a mild March Manitoba afternoon, what could be better than playing in the snow?
This past Saturday, we bundled up the girls and hit the slope. (Well...bump in our park.)
We got as far as the back gate before we hit the first snag. The back gate was frozen to the ground. In hearty, prairie style my husband got out the ice chisel and shovel and hacked away while the kids sat on their sled and chanted, "Let's go!"
We prevailed against the ice, and pushed onward through the massive 3 foot drifts in the park that lead to the hill. My husband pulled the sled. With each step his foot sank into two feet of snow. He trudged inch by inch as his knees cracked and buckled. The girls shouted, "Faster daddy! Wheeeee!" and he tried to speed up in order to maintain his hero status. In between, their cheers I could make out his mumbles, "I thought I was in better shape than this" or "whose idea was this".
While D.J. heroically struggled on, I had a challenge of my own. There is thick layer of hard snow which covers the drifts. Trying to avoid the massive cardio workout (and subsequent cardiac arrest) which engaged D.J's efforts, I stepped gingerly across the top of the drifts. Testing my weight with each step, I slowly made my way through the park. The challenge became a battle between the drift, and me. I tried to think airy thoughts, "I'm a cloud, I'm weightless, I'm a feather.." With each successful step, I would celebrate my hard work at the gym in keeping slight enough to delicately glide across the drifts, until I heard it. Crunch.
The sound of defeat that pierced my elegant thoughts a split second before my foot plunged down into the drift. "Dang! That extra burger was a bad idea!"
I recovered my confidence, lifted my ginormous thigh out of the snow and tried again. After a few more tentative, successful steps...Crunch. Another foot, knee deep in the snow. "Crap! No more chocolate bars after 9pm!" I told myself.
As we approached the hill, D.J. stopped for a breath so the girls jumped out of the sled, running ever so delicately across the tops of the drifts at lightening speed.
Their laughter roused me from my self-esteem Russian roulette.
The girls ran up the hill, with their exhausted parents dragging their crackly knees as fast as possible. Red cheeked, snotty-nosed smiling from ear to ear, they rode down the hill with squeals of delight. Each ride was a whirlwind thrill, that ended with an instant cry, "Again! Let's do that AGAIN!"
A quick jaunt up the hill, and off they went, zooming down as fast as they could! Their laughter was contagious, and the thrilling looks of exhilaration made each ride a thrill to watch.
Eventually, two tired parents found themselves laughing, effortlessly chasing two angelic imps and taking turns sliding down. Suddenly, the air was crisp not cold, the running was exhilarating, not exhausting and how much a person weighed was irrelevant. All that mattered was sharing the experience and riding ONE MORE TIME!
On the slow walk home, after the "I have to pee" announcement, we were all smiling, snotty noses and all. The joy of family, shared experience, sacrifice, and fun in the snapshot of a Saturday afternoon. There is an inexplicable contentment that rushes over when I hear my daughters laugh that makes every hardship, joyful.
It must be love.
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home