I am a slow learner. Still.

I have bruises from children that are not my own.

I mean, the bruises are mine, but the children that caused the bruising are not.

Let me explain ...

I decided to return to ski instructing this winter, at the small area where I started teaching back in 1996. It holds terrific memories for me, as it is where hubby and I met. I have been on "hiatus" for a few years (having babies and such), but this year, I'm BACK, BABY!

So, today I walk in and the ski school director says, "Oh, good, you're here!"

Initially, I thought, awww, how sweet, I've been missed. So glad I'm back.

But then, he continued, "There are TWIN 3 year olds that want a girl instructor."

To which I replied, "You're hilarious." (Because, ya know, easing oneself back into teaching is the best plan ... and you know what they say about the best laid plans...)

Joke was on me. He, in fact, was not kidding. Not even a little. At that very moment there were two little people waiting with their dad, for me.

I didn't hear the screaming and pleas for freedom until I was putting on my ski boots.

The screaming continued all the way out of the building and across the beginner area. Upon assuring the dad that he could leave whenever he wanted to, and I would be fine with the twins, despite the screams, he said his goodbyes and bolted.

His departure brought about a sound I'd not heard before.

And I'm a mom.

Twins, it seems, feed off each other. Like coyotes. Or hyenas. Or, twins. When one is screaming about needing daddy, the other (whose screams had subsided), not be outdone, chimes in as well.

The pitch and sheer volume of the screams was both impressive and wholly unbelievable. I'd never heard anything like it.

Thing 1 (twin boy) was secured to his skis, looking up to the sky, and very pathetically calling out for daddy.

Thing 2 (twin girl) was NOT secured to skis, and instead, insisted on running toward the parking lot in search of daddy.

I'm fairly certain that, (although not visible) since daddy was in the same county, he heard the screams.

Each time Thing 2 ran for freedom, I tried verbally coercing her back (each time unsuccessfully), and then resorted to chasing her on foot.

And each time I got to her, she went all wet noodle. As I lifted her up to carry her back to where Thing 1 was standing (and still wailing), her legs flailed as she kicked and squirmed in extreme protest.

Hence, the bruising. The kicks to my shins were endless. And, let's not forget that she had ski boots on at the time.

Yeah, ouch.

Oh, and because of all the screaming, or in addition to the wailing, each little nose was blowing bubbles. So, aside from attempting to stop the sounds, there were tissues flying out of my pocket faster than government bailout money for big banks. And, lets not forget that they are three, so it's not like their mittened little hands are wiping their own noses.

Now, while all this is going on, I am still trying to convince them that we are going to have fun (see, I am still a slow learner).

After getting the attention of the entire beginner area with the screaming and the flailing and the general protest, I finally convinced Thing 2 to strap on the skis.

OK, I bribed her, but, whatever.

I promised her that if she put on her skis and we started practicing our "pizza" (kid teaching lingo for the shape ones skis make while learning to stop), that I would get daddy and he could watch.

The crying and screaming stopped. Instantly.

With skis on, and small pizzas being made, daddy showed up and Things 1 & 2 went ape shit. Literally. Poor Dad stood at the bottom of the beginner area for an hour as I got the twins up the hill and down the hill.

By the end of the hour, they were going down the hill, on their own, with a smile on their faces.

They almost looked angelic, but I knew better. And so did my shins.

And, daddy asked if it would be possible for him to request me next time, since I've already been through the "routine" with them. Oy. Sure. Why not? I'm a slow learner...

So, after that lesson, a quick break doesn't seem an unreasonable request, right?

HA!

I no sooner walk back in to the ski school, when trusty director says once again, "Oh, good, you're here. Your next lesson has been waiting - it's a 5 year old girl who wants a girl instructor."

I didn't even put my skis down.

Back out to the hill with a child vocally less-than-pleased with mom and dad's decision for ski school.

Swell.

Parents apologized for the whimpering sounds coming from their child.

I told them, "Hey as long as she doesn't kick me in the shins with her ski boots mid tantrum, I'm cool."

They didn't get the joke, but I didn't care.

Her whimpering subsided when I began a line of questioning involving hot chocolate and big marshmallows vs. little ones.

After the hour was up, and another little one was skiing solo down the beginner hill (and another request for a lesson on Wednesday), I walked (more slowly this time) back to the ski school desk.

Just as I was about to announce that I was packing it in and heading home, a bright eyed little 5 year old girl walked up to the desk with her grandmother and announced she needed a lesson - from a girl. I got "the look" from the ski school director, and was once again heading out to the beginner area.

This one? This one was a fearless spitfire, full of energy. She proudly announced that she raced last year and beat all the boys.

We bonded.

She took two rides up the rope and said she wanted to hit the chair.

After the Things 1 & 2, I could do anything today. Anything.

Another hour, another little one that wants to come back and play on Wednesday.

As a result, I'll be in traction until noon on Wednesday.

And then, likely again after 4.