Ninety months for you, 480 months for me. That’s right. Your old man finally turned 40.
I enjoyed holding my 30s over your Mom the last 2.5 years of first-digit difference, but I am finally, inevitably joining her on the fourth floor. I can remember when my parents turned 40, and I was about 18 years old then. That just goes to show the difference between having kids younger and later in life and what you get to observe.
I admit this has not been a milestone that I’ve looked forward to. There’s just something about being classified as “over-the-hill” that doesn’t align with my perpetually youthful outlook and self image. Forty-somethings jog and run marathons (like Uncle Scott). They complain about aches and inexplicable pains (like your Mom). They lose their hair and hearing (like me.)
Of course, this birthday like any other is a celebration of living and growing. I chose that we celebrate in Whistler for a family-and-friends ski trip.
The skiing was fantastic. We put you and Matteo in an all-day “Whistler Kids” lesson so Mom and I could run all over the mountain and ski some bigger areas. We had an incredible powder run on Blackcomb Glacier, accidentally skied a chute, and otherwise had a great day. I think that was the best I’ve ever seen your Mom ski. She looked great, too, of course. When we picked you up at the base, you were 30 minutes late due to some gondola delays and totally wiped from the long day. Everything worked as planned.
The next day, we skied as a family through a lot of clouds and low visibility in the morning. We ate a late breakfast at the Crystal Hut (aka Waffle Hut) and ended up skiing well into the afternoon. We took a dip in the Chaffee’s hotel pool that overlooked the base area, ate dinner with the group, and planned for a final ski day before heading home.
That final ski day, a bluebird, sunny day, never happened. You and Matteo both caught the stomach bug. I spent the night catching puke in a kitchen pot and garbage can as you took turns and occassionally sychronized getting sick. Mom took the morning shift. You had it worse than Matteo and got sick 12-14 times. That was tough to watch. We got a late check-out to delay the car ride home, and you got sick one more time on the twisty Sea-to-Sky Highway.
We also had a delay at the border because your truthful Mom offered to the border agent that we brought a couple satsuma oranges across the border and back. Transporting citrus is a no-no, so we “got secondary” for an additional security check.
We got back home in one piece, just a couple days before my actual birthday. We were in the clear for my real birthday, or so we thought. I got sick that night. I wasn’t looking forward to turning 40, and certainly not with that kind of start to the decade.
Eh. I’m just starting at the bottom and it’s all up from here.
Love,
Dad