the new cruelty

Or, how to ski during a holiday weekend with a three-month-old.

4:15 AM
Feed baby. Get mumbly confirmation from husband that, yes, Aunt Helen can babysit tomorrow, and yes, we will be skiing provided we can meet Mike and Bill at 7:30 AM. Go back to sleep, sort of.

6:15 AM
Feed baby. Tell husband it's time to get up. Fall back asleep.

6:35 AM
Tell husband it's time to get up. Get up. Grumble. Eat. Gather ski stuff. Grumble. Realize there's not enough breastmilk for Aunt Helen to cover three feedings. Grumble. Obsess about whether to bring pump to mountain. Decide not to.

7:20 AM
Call Mike and Bill to tell them we're leaving soon. They leave without us.

7:45 AM
Go to Albertsons to buy formula.

8:30 AM
Arrive at Aunt Helen's condo to drop off the baby.

8:45 AM
Feed baby.

9:15 AM
Rent boots for husband because inner liner of one of his ski boots has been at repair shop in Redondo Beach since July.

9:45 AM
Arrive in parking lot at ski resort. Take parking lot shuttle. Wait in line. Take gondola up. Wait in line. Take chairlift up. Wait in line. Take another chairlift up. Wonder why on earth we decided this was a good idea.

10:45 AM
Arrive at top of mountain. Find Bill and Mike having first round of beers of the day. Decide that we too deserve a beer for all of our effort so far.


11:15 AM
First run of the day. Woohoo!


1:15 PM
Last run of the day.

2:15 PM
Back to Aunt Helen's with boobs about to explode. Feed baby. Complain about sore legs, but grin because in some weird way it was totally worth all of the hassle. (Especially since we didn't have to pay for lift tickets and we had a great babysitter... thanks Unckie-Cousin Bill & Aunt Helen!)

I can't wait until Clara is old enough to ski. Then we'll get to do all of the above, but with a bundled up three-year-old in tow.