The Ski Bum and the Single Parent.

   "Daddy, I heard you say the F-word!"

    Mt. Ruapehu, an active volcano on the North Island last blew its top with a major eruption in 1995-1996.  Since then it has had a few smaller eruptions most recently in 2008.  It is also home to two of the major ski fields on the North Island, Turoa and the other one of which I am still working out the pronunciation.  Our neighbor, a mechanical engineer who has been relaxing between jobs (living on the money he made in Aussie) has a ski home there. He has piqued my interest (lucky bastard) with his reports of the ski trips he has taken over the winter months.  His complaints of feeling "shattered" after some hard days snowboarding and the seven hour drive back to Kerikeri have garnered my deepest sympathy (Please get a job).  Why didn't I get to go? Oh, yeah. This is a WORKING sabbatical.

    It is mid October, and I am still trying to wrap my head around this southern hemisphere living.  Usually this is the time of year where the changing leaves and mountain valley rainfall find me nursing my shin wounds from a recent backcountry bushwhack...no..fishing trip while watching the snow reports tally the snowfall at the higher altitudes.  This year the calendar reads the proper dates, but instead of snowfall, I am enjoying the fragrance of orange blossoms while checking the ocean and beach temps. 
    A couple of weeks ago while sharing a beer in our backyard with our neighbor as he pulled his recently caught Waipapa Inlet mullet out of his bait net (Yeah, between ski trips, relaxing mechanical engineers drink beer and fish.  Did I mention the two college female exchange students, one Chilean, one German, neither language hard on the eyes, who are staying with his family?) a ski plan was hatched.  He reminded me that October 23-25 is Labour Day weekend in New Zealand.  The ski fields at Ruapehu were currently getting fresh snow from a southerly storm and another southerly was expected the week before the holiday.   "The ski fields will stay open 'til mid-November with this snow base. Bro,you oughta go."

     Hmm... Saturday morning clinic then drive seven hours.  Ski Sunday.  Hmmm...  I have hiked for seven hours just to make a few ski turns.  Lots of ski gear shipped over here sitting around waiting to be used.  Hmmm.  Day to drive back on Monday.  See more of this beautiful country....I'm in!
      Did I mention that Kim was going to be back in the US during that time.  Due to her amazing (some of my in-laws are following this blog) family, that has bonded together through some very difficult circumstances that I will discuss in a future post, Kim needed to go back to the US for a visit.  I was signed up for two weeks of single parenthood, (As opposed to the life sentence of double parenthood?) from October 11-26.

     Convincing the kids to go was a no brainer.  I have been grooming them as co-conspirators in getting mom back up onto the ski mountain since they were old enough to enjoy the snow.  Yeah, Kim was getting to be a pretty good powder skier, and even headed towards the bumps.  But ever since one slipped past the goalie and became a Joel bump, her skiing days have never been the same.  I am still scarred by my one and only solo attempt to get her back up on the mountain postpartum.  Hence my reason for looking for help from the kids.  Their joy of skiing has been infectious and we have had mom out a few times the last couple of years.  So when I told McKeely that I would take her skiing the week after her birthday, she was all in.  So was Joel.

    Now the part that would take some brains and organization:  Getting through the two weeks before the ski trip.  With a good after school program that the kids loved, generous colleagues at work who volunteered to cover our late acute clinic, and a day off per week to reload the groceries, the majority of the two weeks cruised by without much problem.  I would say I was the king of the daddy domain (it's good to be king when the queen is gone).   As king, I even was able to host a birthday party that included five little princess friends of my princess McKeely.  Thank goodness for an associate queen mum who stood in to help.  No way could I have combed that much candy (pinata malfunction) out of one little princesses hair!



  
     But then there was the full moon Friday before we were to leave for skiing.  The morning was going great before work.  Had the dishwasher nearly loaded.  Ten minutes early too.  Kids lunches packed and homework checked.  I am the domestic king!  Then the largest glass of spilled milk and Milo I have ever seen occurred.  It was also the first time I properly pronounced the name of the other ski area on Mt. Ruapehu.  Somehow as Joel was picking it up to drink, the glass opted to hit the counter ledge, twist out of his hand and spray ,with a couple bounces, the entire volume of milk onto nearly every cabinet front in the kitchen, onto Joel's pants, and the front of the refrigerator.
   So now we were five minutes late heading up the driveway.  Pleasantly drop the kids at school (Bye, get out.  Now!), and race to clinic.  Back to a normal day until the call from school at noon.  Seems that the one holer loo per classroom was not enough for the number of kids with post lunch gastrocolic reflex.  Kid number three in line could not control number one and "needs a fresh pair, so would it be OK for a teacher to walk your child home for a change of undies?"  Bummer.  "Sure that is fine, I am a half hour away."  What was that ski area name?  Thank goodness for some wonderful teachers at the school.
   A little late getting out of work, so the kids were the last ones at the after school program.  No big deal, as it is a holiday weekend, and next week, Kim will be back home for the after school routine.  That is when the volcano blew.  It started with a simple small voice.  "Daddy what are nits?"  Clinically, I have known it was only a matter of time before this happened.  Seems the nice moist warm environment in this part of New Zealand is ideal for the spread of head lice among school children.  Clinic nursing staff have since entertained me with stories of the number of times they have had to treat their children over the years.  At this moment though, I was not being entertained.  "Daddy, my head has been itching for the the past three days too." says the older of my precious children.   A rapid search through each child's scalp, which revealed plenty of crawling parasites, and I suddenly found myself an expert in pronouncing that second ski area name.
    A load of bedding into the washer, a drive back to the clinic to pick up a bottle of malathion, a stop at the store for a nit comb and additional conditioner (works great to loosen the nits for combing) and the battle was on.  By 2pm the next day, thanks to additional help from our unbelievable find of a babysitter, (yes, she rewashed bedding and combed the kids hair, while I finished Broadway's Saturday clinic) we were still able to depart for the ski field.  Hair and scalp hygiene much improved.  I packed the two remaining parasites (the ones that could have only been removed with a preemptive vasectomy on my part) into the car and headed south.

  
     The ski trip was wonderful, as the pictures show.  Turoa ski field treated us well.  It was definitely spring skiing, but the beauty of a snow covered volcano surrounded by the lush greenery of New Zealand more than made up for the quality of snow.  Mt. Taranaki, another volcano near the west coast of the island, even made an appearance on the sunny horizon.   Smiles all around erased some of the difficulties of the preceding weeks.

      As I sit and write this in a Taupo hotel room, kids worn out from the day, already tucked in bed, I do have some remorse for erupting in front of them.  Daily stress can catch up to us, and sometimes blow up to cause damage.  Fortunately, our children are at an age where they are highly inquisitive about the handling of emotional situations.  We had some great talks about words, communication, joy, anger, sadness, and losing a loved one during our drive to the mountain.  As parents and children, we are each growing up a little more each day.  Maybe as a dad I didn't handle full moon Friday as well as I should.

    
     While the sun sets across Lake Taupo with Mt. Ruapehu on the far horizon there is one thing I do know for sure. When they ask to go skiing again, thanks to my outburst, they will at least know how to properly pronounce the name of the other ski area at Mt. Ruapehu.
    "Dad, when can we go skiing at Whakapapa?"
     That's the story of the F-word in our house.  (Read the June 27 post for proper Maori pronunciation help.)