Miscellany: It s cool to be cared for
There comes a time when parents quit being the caretakers and start being cared for. I just didn't expect to experience that phenomenon quite so soon.
A few weeks ago I took Daughter #2 to Colorado to look at a college and spend a couple of days skiing.
The college visit was as expected. We took a tour of the school and listened to one of the students expound on the benefits of attending Western State College.
About half-way through the tour, the realization hit me that I was being "cared for." The student showing us around was taking her time, making sure I got up the steps, opened doors for me, and offered cups of coffee along the way. Daughter #2 rolled her eyes and, I'm sure, was supremely mortified that she was with an "old woman."
Truthfully, I didn't need any of this assistance. I was enjoying the tour, navigating the steps on my own, and opening doors all by myself. (I've been doing those things for years so I have some experience.)
During the ski portion of the trip I got alternating vibes from #2. Most of the time she seemed glad to have me there. Other times she pretended she didn't know me.
She's a better skier than I, so I was determined to keep up without causing further embarrassment. I followed her down every hill, up every lift, and through most of the trees. I only got my poles tangled up in the lift line once or twice.
Probably the only harrowing experience of the weekend was the drive over Monarch Pass on the way home. (Let me just preface this by saying I'm a decent driver — on flat, dry surfaces. I had no experience driving in the mountains.)
The weather was partly cloudy and temperatures were in the 50s at the base of the mountain. The warning lights for four-wheel drive or snow chains weren't on when we started up the mountain so I was feeling confident we'd get through the pass without much trouble.
After about four of the seven miles, the clouds moved in and it got darker and darker — not something you'd expect at 3 p.m. The temperature continued to drop, the air got wetter, and it got darker.
By the time we reached the top of the pass, visibility was about six inches, it was 24 degrees, we were driving on pure ice, and I was a nervous wreck. The kid, on the other hand, was oohing and aahing about "how cool" it all was.
If the drive up was hair-raising, the drive down required white-knuckle driving and strict concentration. I finally had to tune out #2 when she started talking about "how cool" it would be to use the runaway truck ramp going down the mountain.
It was 9 p.m. before we stopped for dinner. It took me that long to peel my fingers from the steering wheel and calm my shaking knees so I could stand.
By this time I could have used a caretaker. I just didn't think my nerves could handle someone who thought sliding sideways down a mountain was "cool."
— DONNA BERNHARDT
