Skiing With Kids -- Fantasy vs. Reality
Not pictured: tantrums before going skiing and tantrums when it was time to stop skiing.
There’s a version of skiing with kids where everything is adorable and fun, little sunglasses and tiny skis, gummy candy bribes in the pocket, hot chocolate mustaches and priceless shots of barely walking toddlers seemingly defying gravity whilst whooshing down the bunny hill into a waiting parent’s joyous arms.
I know that version well. It’s the quick-take version—the polished for internet, fantasy version that exists in our collective minds when we don’t think too hard about something. This cartoon version is all fun and joy, cuteness and charm—tiny legs clunking around in massive ski boots and tiny heads in bobble-y helmets. Seeing that version I can smile with recognition and at the same time, I can laugh maniacally because I also know behind every perfect, curated on-snow moment, there exists countless meltdowns, tense moments, tantrums, missed naps, diaper mishaps, stressful drives, and yes, for us, one three year old broken leg. I still believe that it’s totally worth it, and I want it to be available to more families, parents and kids. But maybe we could adjust those expectations a teensy bit.
The goal: rope tow independence.
When I first got pregnant, my thoughts revolved around myself and my own career, how I would feel about skiing while raising kids. I was focused on my own relationship to skiing (which is my work and an overarching passion in my life) and how that would change. Even when our first daughter was little, my mind was occupied with what was the acceptable amount of skiing to be done at a stretch before I needed to be back to nurse her, hold her, and be a good mom. But skiing is MINE, the old version of myself whined, kicking and screaming while gradually, and not entirely gracefully arriving at the realization that old me and her old priorities were out the window. Surprisingly, I was more ok with this than I had anticipated. Kids and their personalities (not to mention the hormones, brain changes, and other biological and psychological changes that come with having them) have a sneaky way of rearranging priorities while tricking you into thinking it was your idea. I began to see that new normal and old normal might be able to find a peaceable middle ground.
And then suddenly the baby that we had been dropping off, taking turns passing around or following around the lodge as she toddled about and ate ground score chips, was two and it was time for her turn to ski. Our first mistake, which we started when she was one, was using the skis that strap on to snow boots. Toddler legs become jello at the first sign of fear, uncertainty, stubborn resistance, or whenever they feel like it, all the things which defined skiing to our now five year old when she was just starting. Unless we were completely holding her weight, crouched over in a snowplow while attempting to navigate the hill and the slippery wooden skis underneath her, she would turn into mush and then fall on the snow wailing. So she already had a mistrust for the activity of skiing by the time we found a pair of tiny hard boots for her, one-strap Dalbellos, at a ski swap. We had tiny Volkls (of course) for her to snap into, and a tiny helmet and goggles that had been given to us as a gift. (More on kids’ ski gear in a separate post!)
No ski lifts required!
We got a bit wiser and realized there would be some de-sensitization required. Before even going to the ski area, we had her just put the boots on at home and clomp around on the rug a bit. Then we took them off quickly before she could protest. The next phase was to get her in her snowsuit, put on the boots, and get her out on her skis in the yard on a snowy day, to literally just scooch around on the flats in her gear. Our friend had said when his kids were little he would take them to the groomed nordic trails and put their alpine gear on and tow them with a bungee, them standing on their downhill skis, him skate skiing or classic-ing, just to give them a feel for forward and back balance in their skis. My husband did this several times, just towing our daughter around the snowy yard when she was three, (or on nearby packed snowy walking trails) with the younger one in the backpack on his back. Fun for everyone! And I think it really helped her get comfortable on her skis, right out the front door with no car ride required.
When we first took her out on the ski hill, I went immediately into coach mode, reasoning that if she was able to ski well and have good technique, she would enjoy it more. I attempted to cajole her into getting forward, bending her knees, shifting her weight when she wanted to turn, and many other practical and rational skiing tips. She became insolent and crabby, and I was frustrated. My husband took over, got her to pretend like she was a bunny hopping down the slopes, and she was begging for another run. Oh, right. We’re skiing, and skiing is meant to be fun. I bit my tongue and started sniffing and hopping down the hill alongside this skiing bunny. She loved it.
Proud moment made possible by hot chocolate.
We chose to use a ski harness with both of our kids, basically a little backpack that clips on to them, with straps for the adult to hold and ski behind. Our friends had given it to us, and it had worked well for them, so we gave it a try and our daughter loved it—she was a dog on a leash, barking her way down the hill. I realize that people have lots of opinions about this, and some prefer to use poles, hula hoops, edgie-wedgies, or nothing at all. From what I can see with our kids and watching lots of other families teach kids at our local ski hill over the last few years, they all even out at some point regardless of what method they use, and if the kids are having fun and they have an adult paying attention to them, or a safe spot to noodle around on their own, they can learn to ski safely.
Cross training for quads and backs is a fringe benefit of helping kids learn to ski!
We are extremely lucky to have a small, local ski hill nearby, which gives us the added bonus of skiing being a social activity for us and the kids—and this has been one of the most rewarding and helpful elements of skiing with them so far. First, it’s very affordable. Second, they have the positive peer pressure of seeing their friends do something and wanting to follow them or try it. And third, there are other parents, adults, and older kids around to help out, which makes it communal. We do load our kids in the car and drive them an hour for a larger ski area, with chairlifts, parks, and more runs, but that has been another learning curve altogether.
When they were little, we had nap schedules, diapers, and feeding schedules to contend with, not to mention unhappy wailing kids in carseats. If we wanted to go to the Big Ski Resort, an hour away (so close! I know—yes we have rearranged and devoted our entire lives to skiing, does it show? Does that make us weird?) it meant usually packing up ungodly amounts of gear, clothing, changes of clothing, clean diapers, food, milk, milking equipment, the sled, blankets, toys and oh, our own ski gear, in the car, only to arrive just as they fell asleep. We would sit in the car and wait for a bit, wake them up and shove them (very crankily) into their gear and try to get a few runs out of them before they would be lying on the ground, eating snow, unwilling to budge. One of us would inevitably take them into the lodge to play, eat, pleat (play eat), or scavenge bits of food off the lodge floor while the other would enjoy a stolen run or two that felt entirely indecent. We’d switch off maybe once each before the melt downs would begin (mainly me) and then pack up our small encampment in the corner of the lodge, load the car back up, and drive home, usually with at least one diaper blowout, potty accident, or inadvertent ill-timed nap that would be guaranteed to blow the bedtime routine and that night’s sleep. Yes, it’s all extremely first world problems of our own choice and creation, and I am not writing this post to complain but rather to say to anyone brave enough to take small kids skiing: I SEE YOU! And to all those who came before and took us and others skiing when we were small children—THANK YOU! But it does beg the question: how has skiing as a sport continued when there is this much rigamarole involved?
The answer is simple, like many other things about having kids or spending time with them. At the end of the day, when I recall the ski days spent with kids, the schlepping and dealing (and even the broken leg, which healed quickly) tends to meld into one laughable memory of happy chaos, overridden by the happier-still memories of the smiles and giggles, joy and pride of sliding down snow with our kids. Seeing it from their eyes, it truly is magical. And one small moment of magic these days is worth a whole lot.
A bird learning to spread her wings.
