We are not big home maintenance types around here. I do not like to grocery shop, don’t dig shopping anymore, and have the house at a stage where most of the crap can at least be pushed aside into manageable piles. There are hioe and errand-type things that I wish would just happen (for example, i just realized that we’ve completely outgrown our stroller collection, and I really wish the fairies would just come get it). But generally, on weekdays, we work, and on weekends, we do. This weekend we skied. Well, except for Sam, who built a “snowbox” and crashed it down a hill amidst many other snowboxers, which the rest of us watched, after skiing. But Sam skied today.

We didn’t call the many people we like to talk to, or put away the holiday train, or clean the basement, which has mice. We didn’t clear out the hallway, or recycle some of the magazines that threaten to take over every open space. We didn’t invite people to Wyatt’s upcoming birthday, or plan said birthday, or take actions towards acquiring suitable party favors for said birthday or anything of that sort. And there was something else I needed to do or order online, and we didn’t do that either. In fact I can’t even remember what it was.

Because we went skiing. It was a beautiful day, an amazing day, and we skied, and skied hard, and made what should have been terrible decisions, like taking Rory’s edgy-wedgy off (it holds the ski tips together) and then choosing to go down a black diamond with moguls (because it was the only way over to the other lift) for her first free-ski run and then taking that one last run, which featured yet more moguls and steepness, and expecting Rory and Wyatt to power through it all–which they did, with style and grace that provoked actual positive commentary by onlookers (not even exaggerating). They just skied, learning, one hopes, that if you fall, you get back up, and if the slope looks ugly, well, the sooner you start down, the sooner you’ll be at the bottom, one way or another.

Of course it all ended in some shrieking and tears, but not until the car ride home, so we really can’t complain. And fortunately that black diamond mogul slope was Rory’s favorite part of the day, both because she lives for that kind of thing and because it scored her much praise from me, whereas earlier in the day I’d been asking her to make more turns and actually offering some coaching. She much prefers praise to coaching. I’ll have to start coaching via praise, I guess. I LOVE how you’re making all those turns! I can do that.

Anyway, a good day, and one on which we were, kinda, the family I want us to be. I suspect I will never look back on these years and think, well, it all would have been so much better with a clean basement.