Last weekend we took a short trip up to Rexburg to see Jan and Brett and to go skiing. On Friday, right after school we jumped in the truck with about five black and yellow bins full of ski gear and headed north. It’s always a pretty big production to get everything together to go skiing. Each person needs their base layers, baggy layers, outer layers, gloves, goggles, helmet, balaclava, bag etc. and it needs to be kept separate and at the ready, since we never go to the nice ski resorts that are literally 30 minutes from our home but rather the ones 4 hours away in Idaho with their cousins.
We went to Grand Targhee on Saturday morning. It was really quite beautiful. At the very top if you went around the curve you could see Grand Teton and the other peaks. Brigham has started to become much more independent at skiing. He will just take off and figure things out on his own. He stayed with us for most of the day on the Shoshone lift bunny hill but after lunch Brett, Mason and I decided to go up on the big mountain. Brig came along. Though I tried not to show it, I was a bit apprehensive because I wasn’t sure that he could keep up. But keep up he did. He really impressed me that day. His technique needs work and occasionally we had to give him a bit more of a chance, but he made it up and down that huge mountain and all the obstacles that came with it, several times. It’s a thing to see your child mature physically before your eyes.
I spent most of the day with Mackay. He is like his mother in regards to trying things that are uncomfortable: he won’t. He’ll go down the mountain, so long as you stay with him and force him to. He will not go down faster than he feels incredibly comfortable doing, which is slower than most 4-year old’s with their tips tied together. Don’t even suggest going from pizza to French fries, It’s not happening bro. And criticism is internalized and remembered forever. Coaching him and pushing him was incredibly frustrating as his dad--probably as much my short-coming as his. And yet I saw a glimmer. He’d try small things. He never tired. His muscles are strong. Occasionally he would look up and realized how beautiful it was to be there on the lift. I wish I knew better how to reach and love that boy, there is so much great to love in him.
Some kids at school in his advanced history class were treating him inappropriately. They were making homosexual references and one made inappropriate advances. The kid even hugged Mack and wouldn’t let go until a teacher came in. He felt comfortable enough with his mother to discuss it with her. Michelle went through the teacher, the counselor and the principal and they all handled it very professionally and remarkably well. Which is good because I was ready to handle it by putting a fist through a throat. It’s not right to make any child uncomfortable, especially not my Mackay. He struggles with adolescence. He will make it through just fine and the struggle is what will make him a better man on the other side but I wish he didn’t have to deal with so much all the time. I really love that child.
As we pulled into the parking lot at the resort, I saw David crying in the back seat. I pulled him aside to see what was the matter and he told me that these were really steep lifts and he was scared. Tears were streaming. I hugged him and reassured him that everything would be ok. I would take care of him all the way. He mustered his strength and soldiered on.
David is a snowboarder; he has mastered the heal edge but feels very awkward on his toe edge. In comes his cousin Mason. Mason is in college, married and recently returned from a mission. Certainly, he would have found great enjoyment in blasting down the mountain at break neck speeds, with music in a wireless speaker blaring from a pocket, like the countless others his age doing so. And yet, he didn’t. He patiently rode along with David, run after run after run, teaching him the finer points of sailing down a mountain with a stick attached to your feet. It was really sweet to see their interaction. He was able to reach that child in a way that I as the dad never could.
As we packed our gear into the car, and again once we arrived back home in Utah and I tucked him into bed, David grabbed me, hugged me, and in the most sincere and loving way expressed his gratitude for me making the effort to take them skiing this weekend. That meant more to me than the little man will ever know.
Teenagers are really difficult. I don’t do well with them. I thought I would be great, I thought I would be cool and understanding, I thought I would be one step ahead--but I’m not. Michelle is. When I get angry she understands. When I punish, she offers incentive. When I am flabbergasted she makes them feel silly funny. I wish I had her talent and way of communicating with them.
I tried on Sunday night. I was giving Brigham a bit of a reprimand in the basement storage room for treating his brother harshly. It was another Dad lecture, in one ear and out the other. On my way out, I shut off the light in the windowless room and closed the door. For 6 minutes we played a silly game of Useless Machine, where he would turn the light on, and I would crack the door just wide enough to turn it back off and then close the door again. Sometimes changing up the timing and noises to throw him off. I’ve told him a hundred times in the last month that I love him. This was probably the first time he felt it for real.
I wish they knew how much I do love them. I am terribly imperfect. I demand a lot and I am more harsh than I wish I had to be. I hate video games and hormones. But I really do love them and wish I could understand them better. One day they will grow into their own version of Mason Bagley. I know they will and they are well on their way. I hope they don’t leave too soon though because the joy I get from a weekend like this is immeasurable and priceless to me.
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