First time skiing

This weekend we took our four year old skiing for the first time.  Prior to this Big E has skied in a park and our back yard - safe venues, if you're asking.  He's skied on little strap-to-your-snow-boots skis.  He's held onto a broom, pulled by his dad, to "go fast!"
He's never clicked his boots into his bindings, climbed on a magic carpet or up into a chair lift, coasted away from the earth, ridden up, then unloaded at the top of a run and braved the icy hill down to where the fun begins.
He was proud.
He was brave.
He was awesome.

I was lucky enough to learn how to ski from my dad, starting at the age of two.  He would drive me up to a nearby pass, carry our skis and me (!) up the hill, then get us all ready, hold me up on my skis, in between his own, and down we'd go.  That never meant that much to me - how young I was - how much work that was - until I had Big E.  And he turned two (too little!).  And then three (too nervous!).  And then four - and then? Then my firstborn got his own real, downhill skis.
When we got there, we signed him up for a private one hour lesson with, what turned out to be, an angel of a teacher.  She was so great that Big E was ready to follow her up the magic carpet, without even knowing her name.  He was high-fiving her, talking about his ski-prowess, and didn't need my encouragement to follow her over to their spot in line.  When I came back an hour later (sneakily skiing around the side to watch his progress), he was skiing into the line to await his next turn.  After a few minutes, he got out of line and sat down on the side.  I panicked, of course,and rushed over, thinking, "he's hurt!"
He was just tired.  And ready for hot cocoa.  His teacher had great things to say about his ability to "make a triangle" with his skis and his impressive balance.  We thanked her profusely for her lesson and headed down to the Lodge.  Once we'd deposited our skis outside, we headed in for lunch (and cocoa!) and talked about his runs.  And once we were finished eating?  He was ready to head back out!!

After a couple more runs down the magic carpet, Daddy M and Papa B couldn't resist asking if he wanted to ride a real chair lift...you'd have thought they'd never ask with the enthusiasm he answered that question with.  My heart was pounding, but I'm not willing to kill my kid's enthusiasm for skiing on his first day, so to the "big chair" we headed.
The first ride up was a little tricky - I mean, I've never held a tiny person on a chair lift, with skis dangling off his short, little, ski-boot laden legs before.  Daddy M and I both had a firm grip on him the whole time.  When we got to the top, we each scooped him up under one arm and helped him ski down the off-ramp.  I figured out that if I held my ski poles across the front of us, placing him in between my skis, and kind of holding them out in front of us like a handle bar, he could hold on, gain his own sense of balance and practice his "triangle" (but only if I skied with my skis REALLY REALLY far apart - see my aching glutes, shoulders, every part of my back and outer calves today...).
We spent the next two hours riding the chair up, scooping him off, getting him set up, and teaching him to ski.

I'm fairly early into this whole having-kids-thing.  My boys are four and two and a half years old.  And I have heard, more times than I can count, that being a parent doesn't necessarily get easier, but that it's different at every age.
And we have our moments - moments when I think, "damn, I should have called this blog, Struggle Like a Mama.  Cause today?  There's no juggling - these pieces flat out can't be caught, let alone launched back up into the air to juggle."
But those days seem to be getting fewer and farther between.  And now we're moving on to experiences like this weekend.  This weekend where I watched my baby boy (he will ALWAYS be my baby) hurtle his little body down a snow and ice covered slope, grin, and, scream, as he approached the chair lift for another go round, "RADICAL!"
The boy is a force to be reckoned with and he got both his Mama and Daddy's love for the speed, peace, joy, humility, grace, thrill and adventure that skiing offers.
Cheers to that -