Pining for Snow

Pregnancy is all about abstinence.

Alcohol went out the window straight away. The UK doesn’t officially recommend giving up alcohol entirely while pregnant, but when you’ve had trouble with infertility, it doesn’t take a genius to see that you should probably err on the side of caution. (My mother, in the period of time before we told my in-laws about my pregnancy, surreptitiously downed most of a glass of champagne that I was supposed to be drinking along with her own and got totally whammed on my and her unborn grandchild’s behalf) I don’t smoke, so that wasn’t a chore. Nor do I eat soft cheeses, because, in my opinion, most of them smell and taste like feet. I gave up highlighting my hair, leaving me with strange half-streaks that start from my ears. None of these things have given me much bother one way or another.

But one thing HAS bugged me.

I am a clumsy fool. I run into things constantly. If there’s an uneven surface, I’ll trip on it. I’m the only person I know who’s ever fallen UP the stairs. I once gave myself a split lip by tossing a bottle of juice in the air and catching it with my face. I know I’ve garnered strange looks in the gym changing room from some suspicious bruises on my legs and butt. The other women shake their heads and talk behind their hands. I want to set them straight.

“No, seriously! When I say that I walked into a door or the side of a cabinet, I’m totally not lying! I’m a complete yutz!” I want to yell.

“Of course you did, dear,” they’d say in response and secretly be dialing some domestic abuse help line on their mobile phone on my behalf.

For someone with a coordination record like mine, you’d think that snow sports would be utterly out of the question, but believe it or not, strap a snowboard to my feet and I couldn’t be happier.

I started out with skiing in high school. Growing up near the mountains in Western Maryland, it was only an hour to the nearest ski area, so it was inevitable that I was going to end up on waxed planks at some point. I went twice. The first time, I stabbed myself IN THE EYE with a ski pole, jarring it in it’s socket, although not doing any damage more lasting than a black eye. The second time, I ended up in the emergency room with a dislocated thumb in a bed next to a guy who was so drunk, he tried to pee on the nurse. After that, my skiing partner at the time refused to take me again, which was fine by me.

Fast forward 11 years to when Mr. DD’s band got a gig playing in the winter resort town of Banff, Alberta and a group of 14 of us decided to go for an extended 2 week holiday. Seeing as how there was little to do that wasn’t snow related, (although the hot chocolate at Evelyn’s Coffee House alone was worth the plane fare for. Can you say home-made chocolate whipped cream?) most of us opted to hit the slopes. As I’d not had much luck on skis, I thought perhaps I’d give snowboarding a go.

It was hard. A LOT harder to pick up than skiing. It's a totally different motion more akin to surfing than anything else. Although it was a rather embarrassing 5 days of falling alternately on my ass or my head, by the last day, due to some very good coaching from one of the guys in the group who had got the hang of it, both Mr. DD and I were actually starting to have FUN.

Strangely enough, we happened to live only 40 minutes away from an actual snow dome in Milton Keynes, so over the next year, we tried to visit once a month to improve our skills on the closest thing to snow you can find in this particular part of Europe. (It’s wise, however, not to get it in your mouth because it tastes like the stuff that the highway agency spreads on the roads when it gets cold. Or so I imagine.) With the new learning under our belt, we took a long weekend in March to Chamonix, France and had a blast riding slopes that we wouldn’t have dreamed we’d be able to tackle a year ago.

My brother-in-law, his girlfriend and another fellow who accompanied us to Chamonix are now making plans for this winter’s slope trip and I find myself exceedingly jealous that I can’t participate. It’s literally the only thing that I’ve found that I’ll miss while pregnant and absolutely can’t compromise on. Technically, as the season lasts until early May in some parts of the Alps, we COULD go, but somehow I don’t see living with myself myself after leaving a 2 month old infant at home so I can go on a jolly.

So I will have to stare longingly at my beautiful board for another year. This kid is going to have to like snow.

So what do/will you miss most?