BLOG POST
The Gear We Didn’t Know We Had: Lessons from the Mountain
A four letter word was repeating over and over in my mind.
My 5 year old's panicked eyes looked up at me, wanting to desperately know if I had it in me to get us through this...
As mums do, I managed to find a gear that I didn’t know I had.
I rose to be the leader he needed, even though every part of me wanted to sit in the snow and cry too.
It was our first day skiing in Canada. And only my second day on skis ever because I had decided to change over from snowboarding.
So we were rookies in every sense of the word.
This was the dream my husband had had for ten years. He’d talked about this magic mountain and one day taking our future children here when I met him an entire decade ago. And suddenly we were here... but neither our children or myself were feeling any magic.
We were trying to make our way down what the Canadian's call a beginner run (that I promise you would be classed as a black run in Australia!)
And my 5 year old had lost his confidence.
I was starting to remember the odd comment my husband made when he was booking this trip; "Look Ash, there isn't much beginner terrain at this mountain but you'll be fine, you can totally do this."
And suddenly, I'm piecing everything together. There is nothing about this run that is beginner terrain and here I am, with 5 hours of experience on skis and a 5 year old who is terrified that we're not going to make it.
We came to an edge and looked below; we were completely unable to see the terrain we were about to ski into. My 5 year old panics, this is the point he looks up at me and says: "I can't do it Mum". But something deeper within me knows that there is no option but to lead. I find that gear. That gear I had no idea existed within me.
Do you know what? I ask him. He responds with tears in his eyes and a quivering lip, what Mum?
I'm your Mum. And that means, I know every single thing about you. No one in this world knows you like I do. And I know you can do this. We are going to get to the bottom of this hill and I'm going to be here the whole way.
He carries on, borrowing a little bit of bravery from my belief.
Until he falls again.
So I join him. "Well I bet you've never seen a Mumma penguin slide on her bottom" and I slide to meet him but I accidentally lose a bit of control; he looks at me and smirks. This is the first little indication that I think maybe I can get him through this.
I know that playfulness sends the deepest kind of message that we're ok, because you can't fake playfulness with a child.
And so he finds a little bit more in him.
Until he falls again.
His skies are twisted and he's tangled like a pretzel. I'm a few metres down the hill leading the way; I look back and tell him how to get up.
But he can't.
I'm suddenly running through my entire 5 hours of experience as a skier, wondering if I have it in me to climb UP a steep hill without tumbling and breaking the confident facade I'm putting on for him.
But I know, know matter what, in this moment, he needs me to say- of course I'll get you.
So I do. I confidently announce that of course I will come and get him and I start awkwardly side stepping up the mountain as snowboarders and competent skiers are flying around me.
And suddenly he is up. He just needed to know that I could get him.
And oh that is so much a part of this. More than needing me right now, he just needs to know that I can and I will get him.
We finally make it to the bottom, after what feels like a 45 minute mission and my 5 year old screams:
I’m never doing that again, I hate Canada and I hate skiing... he throws his poles to the ground and storms inside.
And as my son is declaring his retirement, my husband walks through the door, picks him up for a cuddle and suddenly...
My confidence disappears and my own eyes start to fill with tears.
I drop the position of leader.
I rest in the dependence of my husband.
All the emotion comes forward because I'm no longer needed.
And it makes me think....
As Mums, we're constantly finding a new gear.
At 3am when the baby will only be held by us.
At 5am when the toddler wakes for the day.
At bedtime when we're exhausted but our child is finally ready to tell us about his day at school.
And somehow, we find that extra gear.
We think we can't and yet we do.
We find more in us than we ever knew existed.
It's the absolute magic of attachment. It draws us up and into a role that is somewhat super human.
I marvel at this constantly. I marvel at you and the extra gear I know you're finding for your children every day.
But do you know what?
Sometimes we all need to rest in the care of another from time to time too.
We all need to feel that feeling of being the dependent...
Because that is a special kind of rest.
And one that I hope every Mum gets to experience from time to time, in one form or another.
