Day Two - barf buckets, memory lane, and "I thought kids were way more pliable than that."

Check out those tiny skis!

In every family of roadtrippers, there's a role. And Lucy's role is barfing. We packed plenty of dramamine, but the problem of it is, we didn't catch it early enough. Everything past Denver was mountains. Very pretty from a plane or in pictures. Not so much when winding around and around and around. And up and down the hils. Up and down and around. The sun setting and flickering in their eyes between trees.

Thankfully, I packed the barf bowl. And thankfully I packed it in a strategic location able to keep driving, and reach back and give it to her. She held it up ready and waiting to deliver. For all my Omaha peeps in the house, it turns out, and I've tested out a bunch of options, that the bucket from the zoo kids' lunches works the best. Everything brilliantly planned. We gave her a dramamine, but we're still not sure if it made it through her system or if she barfed it up.

"Mommy I feel better now that I'm done barfing. Here." Handed me her bucket deposit and passed out. Maybe the dramamine did work. Who knows. The way she barfs, it's exhausting.

Eventually we made it to Sipapu, New Mexico. It's a very small ski hill. Supposedly, it's the best kept ski secret. And I'd like to keep it that way. I knew of Sipapu from my college days. Not so much the glory days as much as my other love, Leadership Conference. Every year we'd go on this retreat, we'd ski, and take the Meyers-Briggs test which predicted what career you'd be best suited for. After I had a good laugh with everyone else about the fact that mine came up with "Clergy" we'd all eat lunch and go ski. The ski part is basic and minimal. I like to ski slowly, on the greens only. Ahhh, the sound of the swish of the snow under my skis. Fresh quiet air. It really is a neat small mountain.

We get the kids checked into ski school. And Ricardo and I leave the kids with some stranger that may have been a ski instructor, or just a guy in a red jacket. I dunno. It was the last weekend the slopes were even open. And once I got to the top and headed down, really, they were pushing it with the "snow on the mountain, slopes open" thing. Did I mention that I haven't been skiing in 10 years? And really, that wasn't skiing. I skiied halfway down the mountain, rolled down another quarter of the mountain, and then proceeded to take my skis off and walk down the rest of the mountain. So, it's been awhile, and I'm cruising through ice and dirt with the tiniest skis I've ever seen. All the less to get tangled in the trees, I suppose. They weren't much bigger than the kids' skis. And they were perfect. I made it very cautiously down the hill a few times. I like to go nice and slow.

Once the kids were done with their ski lessons, we attempted to take them up the bunny slope. Lucy didn't quite make it up the Poma lift. So, I jumped off to help her and yelled up at Ricardo to stick with Max. I look down to see Lucy attempt and then fall. Then I look up and see Max flying down the hill, skis pointed straight down.

Ricardo shouts down to him, "SLOW DOWN!" So he did, face first.

It turns out, because I had lots of time to talk with Lucy while we cross-country skied because she was NOT going back on that ski lift, apparently, they didn't learn how to stop nor slow down in their ski class. Really? What the hell?

Max went back up with Ricardo a few times while I hung out with Lucy. About the same time Lucy decided she'd rather pet the resident St. Bernard (also named Lucy) than ski, I see Max limping and whaling. Turns out last dismount, he stuck his ski straight down into the snow, while his body kept rolling and twisting. Busted his knee.

We turned in the skis, got an ice pack, and got an early start to Flagstaff.

"Maybe we'll try again next year."

"Yeah, we can come back and pet Lucy the dog!"

We drive in peace and quiet - our mission was accomplished - we have worn our kids out emotionally and physically. Super.

I whisper, "Man, I thought 6-year-olds were more pliable than that."

"You should have seen it. It was impressive."

"More impressive than Lucy's barf?"

"Way more. How the hell are we hiking through the Grand Canyon tomorrow?"

That's how I roll. Downhill.