The book came home in the library bag and I snuggled up on the couch with it, and a cup of tea – made by me, check off number 16 in the Home Life chapter. Colorado’s own Mo Siegel, founder of Celestial Seasonings, and I have the same philosophy of tea brewing. (Yes, I was drinking Celestial Seasonings Red Zinger.) 

Samantha Ettus is a personal branding expert. She launched the first-ever agency for personality-driven brands, writes a personal branding blog for ForbesWoman, and is a best selling author, according to her website. 

Ms. Ettus’ series of Expert Guides to everything from the baby years, to doing things faster, and life at home are compilations of essays by “experts” on the subject, or at least people with experience from which to speak. I think calling yourself an “expert” in all things babies or children is just asking them to throw you a curve ball, which they can and will with precision accuracy. “Person with experience in the trenches” or “Treading water through the toddler years” seems more appropriate. 

Flipping through the pages, I started to sort the skills into three categories: things I can certainly do, things I can do but not very well and therefore need a refresher, and finally things that I’ve not had need and am not sure I will ever have need but they are interesting to know about. 

My competitive nature made me tally up how many of the 100 things I can, and have, done. Total score: 90%. Yes! 

3 Things I Can Certainly Do 

Setting a formal table is in my book of experience and I could do it again, I tell you, if there was a flat surface in my dining room and a set of dishes that match or could at least pull off a themed look. My formal table could be an ode to art by my family with a collection of MakIt plates through the years, wine glasses painted by my husband, and tie-dye napkins by me. The only group who would recognize the formality of it all would be my fellow moms-in-arms, who also house a collection of MakIt plates. 

I have changed a tire. Once. It took an hour, or was it two, and I read the manual. At age 16, reading by the light of the car port having never changed a tire before was independence, personal empowerment, and belief in my abilities at its finest. The AAA card in my wallet marveled at my skill. 

Letitia Baldrige, social secretary to the White House and chief of staff for Mrs. John F. Kennedy, says teaching your kids how to shake hands will contribute to the socialization of America. My kids probably need more lessons in manners before they run off and socialize the country, but we’ve managed a start with training on the hand shake. 

2 Things I can do (just not very well).

Sure I can tell a joke but I often laugh too hard before I get to the punch line so I resort to miming the rest. It’s just not the same delivery. The audience is entertained with my wild gesticulations and laughter via hyperventilation but the joke is lost. 

James D. Maas, PhD says I should be getting more regular and uninterrupted sleep. Does he have children or pets? I would love to slumber away 8 hours a night but the snoring, barking, and occasional vomit – children, pets, or adults, take your pick – tend make the whole idea so outlandish it’s comical. Isn’t that why the retired community sleeps more? Making up for lost time during child rearing years. No caffeine after 2pm, no wine 3 hours before bed. Clearly the idea of coping-mechanism has not entered his doctorate world. 

3 Things I’ve Never Had to Do (a.k.a I’ve chosen not to do but it’s interesting to know something about it).

Ryan Newman, NASCAR driver, says it’s easy. So why don’t more people do it? I’ve never done it. The cost of an oil change is going up all the time. Getting an oil change four times a year vs. doing it yourself is equal to a really nice dinner out in the suburbs. I just might give it a go and enjoy the fruits of my labor and saved cash. If I’m covered in oil the next time you see me then you’ll know how it went.

Born and raised in California with the threat of earthquakes and a mother with a well-stocked canned soup and veggie cupboard, I’m even surprised that I don’t have a disaster plan. Tornadoes being the most common possible disaster perhaps I’m picturing all those cans hurling through the air at terminal velocity and therefore want to save my neighbor for being pelted with chicken noodle soup in the midst of a crisis. There are certainly other potential dangers lurking, as Marsha J. Evans, CEO of the Red Cross, describes. So as a responsible adult with off-spring, I should probably do an inventory of flashlights, batteries, meeting places, and perhaps consider putting together a 3-day duffel bag of essentials, just in case. 

Thank goodness Tucker Carlson is in the book to show me how to tie a bow tie, but alas, I have no silk tie to start practicing. Written instructions for tie tying are as cumbersome as the project. If I do have need, I think YouTube would be my go-to source, that is if I couldn’t find a clip-on. 

Who knew the mundane could be so interesting? Reading a Newspaper (check off number 8 in Morning Life) validated my method of non-sequential reading – it’s always A&E first. Growing up with Bob Vila, author and star of This Old House and Bob Vila’s Home Again, paid off in painting a room correctly (number 13 in the Home Life chapter). While I enjoyed reading how to apply lipstick (number 12 – check), I still think it’s a “sometimes” accessory for me and will stick with the shine of lip balm. (For a treat ,maybe I’ll get a tinted balm!)

 Photo credit: FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Make an abominable snowman. It’s like a regular snowman, but less friendly to passers-by.

Practice multiplication and script with your kids. That’ll put them in a REALLY good mood. For older kids, break out the practice tests.

Delete all of the expletive-laden “music” from your teenager’s Napster playlist on the family computer, while she’s not looking.

Make snow ice cream, slushies or ‘tinis. Harvest icicles for the latter.

Fill squirt bottles with water and food coloring and make art on the snow. Let your dog help out.

Trudge around town for a store that hasn’t sold out on sleds.

Wash the floors by hand. Or use a toothbrush.

Do that mending and ironing you’ve been putting off since 2004.

Groom the dog. Then suck all the fur off your couch.

Make freeze-ahead dinners. The ones you wish you had right now.

Go rooftop luging.

Get kids the Lil’ Capt. Robert Scott Antarctic Expedition playset.

Shovel through piles of climate change theories.

Shred your pile of old documents. Better yet, multitask. Use them to light up the fireplace.

Change the batteries in the smoke detectors, since you forgot during Fall Back.

Find all the lids to the Tupperware.

Play Monopoly with the rules that make the game go slower.

Go through your junk drawer. Do not be afraid.

Clean your silverware and jewelry. Alternatively, pine for silverware and jewelry worth cleaning.

Sort mementos into keep and toss piles. Spend time poring over the keepers—after all, that’s why you’re keeping them.

Make a master calendar for gift-giving dates. Shop ahead online. Or for yourself. Pretend there are sales.

Invite over neighbors and children you rarely see for a potluck dinner.

Make a list of all the things you love about your valentine for a card or scrapbook. Make stuff up if you have to.

Actually use those cross-country skis, or skates or showshoes you were always planning to try out after a big snow. C’mon, you can do it!

Put on your fanciest evening dress and jewelry, grab your cocktail and pretend you’re in an old movie. That sounds a lot better than, “Sit around your house and get wasted.”

Scan old photos and make a photo book. Then force the kids to look at pictures of their parents when they were little.

Do your taxes! April 15 only feels far off.

Chug a shot and break open your financial portfolio.

Order seeds and plants for your spring garden. Yes, spring will come eventually.

Update your resume. Hey, it’s better than doing it at work and leaving it in the copying machine.

Go through clothes (for you and your children) in drawers and closet. Try on and toss.

Upload your CDs, finally. Now, this may be difficult: Toss the CDs and the CD player.

Take out all the beach chairs, umbrellas and boogie boards and make a beach day in the snow.

Google yourself.

Collect all the pennies from the corners of the house, coat pockets, sofa cushions, jeans in the laundry. Maybe you’ll have enough for a cup of coffee at Starbucks. Then again, maybe not.

Write a letter. You know the kind, with pen and paper.

Make snowflakes out of paper. Tape them to your windows to block out the white piles outside.

Teach haiku—five, seven, five—and make a book of illustrated snow haiku.

Create air fare alerts for deals to your dream destinations.

Play this fun game with your kids: Let’s Clean the Bathroom!

You know that neighbor who won’t stop blasting music? That’s where your shoveled snow goes.

Play family-friendly spin the bottle with your chore list. Hope it doesn’t point to you when it’s time to clean toilets.

Mani-pedi, scrub or mask, deep condition. You choose the body parts.

Bubble bath. Turn down the lights, light a candle and pretend you’re in a spa. Doesn’t do it for you? It’s not completely impossible that a real one is open.

Experiment all day on devising the ultimate chocolate chip cookie. Tasting mandatory.

Begin your memoirs.

Take pictures of all your belongings to inventory for insurance. Now do a written inventory.

Sleep. If that doesn’t work, make some nookie!

Send hate mail to your friends and relatives in warm-weather places. Or block them on Facebook.

Look at Florida real estate online, so you never have to read this again.

-Leanne Italie

Don’t get me wrong.  I love the ski resorts!  There is so much to do at our wonderful ski resorts that doesn’t involve skiing. I’m just not a big fan of pain, and I never have been.

(No, the person in that photo is not me. This is a stock photo by Wia-Tirol.)

Even though I hate skiing, I love skiers! A lot of my friends ski. My husband is a skier. My daughter will probably be a skier one day. I, on the other hand, am not a skier. In all fairness, what I do cannot be called skiing.

There is not that much screaming in skiing.

Every time I ski, things go downhill. Literally.

It all started when we moved here in January 1999. Our friends had told us about the super-deal they were running for this brand new thing called a “Buddy Pass” (the precursor to the Colorado Pass). Even if our big move to Colorado got postponed, the price of the pass was less than a ski trip to Colorado. Luckily, we did move to Colorado, so the deal was even better.

We got all our gear, and we all piled in the car. We had a plan: They would ski, and I would take a class. I’d never had anything longer than a flip-flop on my feet, and I didn’t want my lack of skill and experience to hold them back. What we hadn’t figured into our plan was the traffic on I-70. We sat on the parking lot of an Interstate, time clicking away. By the time we got to the resort, the morning classes were gone.

“Oh, that’s okay!” my friends said. “We’ll show you what to do!”

Against my better judgment, I listened to them. “As long as I have a flat place to practice before we get started, I’ll be okay.”

I rode with them up the Colorado Super-Chair. I somehow made it off the lift and was greeted by the top of a mountain. To this day, my husband claims that we weren’t at “the top” of the mountain. I disagree. When everywhere I look is down from where I am now, I’m at the top.

“Where’s the flat part to practice?” I asked with a building, frantic desperation. None of this was flat. I’d made a terrible mistake.

“Just ski over here,” they said. “Snowplow!”

“Where!?” I screamed, looking around, wondering why a snowplow would be all the way up here. That’s the last thing I thought I had to worry about.

“No, not A snowplow,” they said, making a wedge motion with their hands. “MAKE a Snowplow with your skis.”

They made it look so easy. My husband said he’d show me what to do. I decided to give it my best shot, and that’s when all the falling began. And so began the crying and yelling. There was crying, and yelling, and more crying and more yelling, and our friends went ahead and left us to our crying and yelling. (I’ll let you figure out which one of us was doing what.)

My husband learns how to do things in a totally different way than I do. I don’t respond well to yelling, and he doesn’t respond well to crying. This was going nowhere pretty quickly. Again, I’d made a terrible mistake.

After what seemed like an eternity, I realized we hadn’t even made it much farther than from where we began. I told him to go ahead. I was done. I clicked off my skis. I gathered my poles, and I trudged back up to the lift. It didn’t take much convincing for the lift operator to stop the lift and let me ride back down. The tears streaming down my face, were genuine. I’m not sure which hurt more: my knee, my hip, or my pride.

That has to be one of the most humiliating experiences of my life. Luckily, my ski goggles had completely fogged up from all the tears, so I couldn’t see the smug looks of those who actually knew what they were doing.

When I got back down, I realized there was an afternoon class starting in a few minutes. I gathered what pride I had left, and joined them. I was told this was a “Never Ever Class,” for people who had never ever skied. Did this fit everyone in the group?

I raised my hand. “Well, my friends just made me go to the top of the Colorado Super-Chair,” I sniffled. “Does that count?” I said, my voice cracking. I was holding back the tears.

“Oh no!” the instructor said. “Was there a significant other involved?”

“Yes,” I squeaked.

“Oh no! Did you get out before any permanent damage was done?” he asked.

“I think so,” I said with a sigh.

“Well, that’s good,” he said. “We always say, ‘Friends never let friends teach friends how to ski.’”

Honestly, I had a great time in the class, but I never could let go of the fear. My first experience on the mountain was burned into my psyche. Had I learned to ski when I was 4, rather than 24, maybe things would be different. As it was, I was ruined. The mere thought of going fast freaked me out. The lack of control threatened to crush me.

Because my husband found such joy in torturing me skiing, I tried really hard to like it. Honestly, I did. For three years, I tried really hard to like skiing. For a couple more years, I didn’t do so well at hiding my disdain for the sport. Eventually, I didn’t renew my pass.  My husband was devastated, but he got over it.  He got to go skiing with his buddies without having to deal with his basket-case of a wife, and I got to not be a basket-case.  It was a win-win situation.

In the years I skied, not once did I make it down a ski run without having a near-death (at least in my own head) experience.  I did, however, meet such nice people on the slopes. Usually, they were tiny little kids just learning to ski. “Ma’am? Is this your ski?” they’d say. “Is this your pole?”

“Yes,” I’d say from where I was lying flat on my back in the snow, my things strewn about me. “Yes, those are mine. Thanks.”

They’d give me back my items, smile, wave, and zip away chanting “Pizza! French fry! Pizza! French fry!” while I got myself into an upright position. Again. If there was one thing I was really good at, it was getting up.

You wanna know something else I’m really good at? Saving a spot for you at the lodge.

So, what about you? Do you ski? It’s okay to admit the truth.

Or rather, first attempted to ski (see photographic evidence here).

Four years later, my daughter and SolVista Basin are still going strong. Touted as one of Colorado’s most family-friendly resorts, this mountain offers some fantastic terrain, an expanding base area with new facilities and a knowledgeable staff.

You may be asking: Colorado has many world-class ski areas so why bother with a small resort two hours from Denver?

This season, we’ll tell you why these GEM resorts (smaller, inexpensive) are worth a second look. Not only are they more affordable but they’re free of crowds, paid parking and over-the-top prices.

And with SolVista Basin’s top-notch ski school, s’mores roasting, night skiing and tubing, you’ll find it’s very much worth it.

The Mountain

SolVista Basin has 406 skiable acres that cover two interconnected mountains. East Mountain is primarily for beginners and intermediate skiers, while West Mountain offers more advanced terrain (though don’t expect any death-defying chutes). If you want to get your thrill on, the Terrain Park has 6 progression parks. Lift tickets prices: Kids 5 and under ski free, Junior (ages 6-12) are $38 and adults (13-60) $56. Prices vary during Spring Break.

Learning to Ski

If I were to grade many area resorts on their newbie terrain, they would get an “F” because their magic carpet area is often too flat, the bunny slope too steep or the whole area is just difficult to access.

SolVista Basin, on the other hand, gets an A. The Pony Surface Lift (magic carpet) is adjacent to the ski school, the Milestone lift (bunny slope) is just steep enough to provide a challenge for magic carpet graduates but is not overwhelming. All the trails filter into this Snow Play Area so it is easy for parents to monitor their kids’ progress in ski school. Best news of all: kids 5 and under ski FREE!

Ski & Ride School

Ski school. Uttering these two glorious words brings to mind FREEDOM! At SolVista Basin, ski and ride school is affordable: only $99 for a full-day lift ticket, equipment rental, group ski lesson AND lunch. To put this into perspective, many large resorts’ lift tickets are over $100.

The instructors are conscientious as they teach direct-to-parallel skiing using the latest shaped skis. Their unique philosophy: rather than teach new skiers the wedge, they focus on getting children to hold their feet parallel as early as possible.

The enrollment policy is a bit of a Catch-22. They won’t turn anyone away (good), however this sometimes results in larger classes (bad). Holidays and weekends are obviously the busiest so reserve your spot early. Go here for additional information.

Saturday Night Fever

During the week, SolVista Basin is slow-paced and peaceful. Enter: Saturday when an influx of families and activities ignite the resort. From 3-4 p.m., roast free s’mores by the firepit. Vista Vibe is a free après ski concert series from 3-6 p.m. in Seven Trails Grille in the Base Lodge.

SolVista Basin offers Grand County’s only night skiing and snowboarding from 5-8 p.m. Cost is $12 for the flood-lit hill that also includes the three terrain parks.

In an innovative move, a snowcat transforms the beginner slope into a three-lane, lift-serviced tubing hill. Night tubing is $14 for a 45-minute session or pay $20 for both night skiing and tubing. Children must be 6 and older to tube or meet the minimum height requirement.
Tip: Avoid the sold-out tubing sessions. We had long lines and were only able to tube three times before the next session began.

Couple’s Lessons

Though I know some couples who enjoy skiing/riding together, many don’t due to different ability levels, lack of patience or that tempting spa treatment. SolVista Basin is trying to help couples bond on the slopes with their private Couple’s Lessons.

Though my husband and I have comparable ability levels, my form is better and he’s a faster, more aggressive skier. We were paired with Tom McNamara, a retired lobbyist who knocked us back to square one on the bunny slope and rebuilt our skills correctly. Thought humbling (and at times frustrating), it was the best lesson I’ve ever had and I’ve never skied better. Jamie and I jokingly called Tom “The Drill Sergeant.” For obvious reasons.

Sweetheart of a Deal: 2-hour Couple’s Lesson, $180 (regularly $215) in February. Does not include equipment or lift ticket.

The Ultimate Family Event

Saturday, February 4, 2012–Kids’ Totally Insane Winter Blast. Enjoy fun activities like a treasure hunt, Family Quest, hide-and-go seek, a rail jam and live music, followed by night skiing and tubing. Tip: Sign your family up for the Family Quest and be sure to watch out for the Abominable Snowman!

Area Activities

Less than 10 miles away, Snow Mountain Ranch at YMCA of the Rockies offers indoor basketball and roller skating. If you want to stay outdoors, ice skate at Cooper Creek Square in Winter Park; skates can be rented at Viking Ski Shop or Christy Sports. Lake Granby, Grand Lake, Hot Sulphur Springs and Shadow Mountain Reservoir are also nearby in Grand County.

Getting there

SolVista Basin at Granby Ranch is 85 miles from Denver. Take I-70 West to the US-40 W exit. Exit 232 toward Empire/Granby. Merge onto US-40 over Berthoud Pass. Continue 15 miles past Winter Park towards Granby. Turn right onto Village Road, just before City Market. Continue 2 miles to Granby Ranch. For lodging, call 888-850-4615 or reservationcenter@granbyranch.com.

A glue gun!
Wreaths!
Ribbon!
Glitter!
Fabric paints!
Weird netting stuff I don’t know what to call it!
Rafia!

Those are her exclamation marks, not mine.

Hadley loves to disappear into her room and create for hours on end. I marvel at her imagination and I fully support these endeavors so long as I don’t need to take part in them.

The problem is, now she’s bugging me to show her how to use all these treasures. If you’re just tuning in, though I love to cook, crafting ain’t my cup of tea (as was evidenced by my Super Saturday sufferings.)

Last week, she took my carnage to a new level when she came downstairs and modeled a skirt that she had fashioned out of an old basket liner.

I suppose I should have been excited and proud. I mean, talk about industrious! But if we’re being honest here, my initial thought was “OH CRAP. NOW I’M GOING TO HAVE TO LEARN TO SEW SO I CAN TEACH HER?!”

My New Year’s resolution list is suddenly look very long and dreary.

Do your kids have passions you don’t share? Do you know how to sew or where we can learn? Or more importantly, will you teach my daughter for me?

But, the truth? We’re hoarders.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I think some mementos from the past are perfectly acceptable to keep. I have some things on display in a cabinet or tucked neatly into a box of treasures that doesn’t take up too much space. I’m also not trying to belittle those who suffer from truly debilitating cases of hoarding. I realize there are degrees of this disease…

…but, it is a sickness that I battle every day.

It physically pains me to throw things away. I become emotionally distraught at the thought of ripping pieces out of the fabric of my past and tossing them in the trash. The memories of a special time attach themselves to objects. I assign worth to things that really should have none.

I know this.

I’ve been able to keep my hoarding in check, and I’ve come a long way. I’ve thrown so many things away that I’ve become numb. I know what needs to happen, and I do it. I can sigh with relief when it’s over, but it’s very hard for me to get to that point.

My husband knows about my condition, and together we’ve been able to keep the Hoarding Monster at bay. (There are times when I’ve relied on him to throw things away for me, and he’s done it.)

We’ve succeeded, and if you were to walk into my home, you’d have no idea that I battle hoarding.

Because I’m so hyper-sensitive to such things, I can see these tendencies in my daughter. She has gotten a double dose of this gene, as the branches of my husband’s family tree are laden with a familiar fruit. We’ve done a great job of curbing this behavior in her.

Hearing myself teach her that objects and memories are two different things is surreal. I know how hard it is for her. I’ve been there. I’m there now.

Everything was very manageable for me until she started school. Now, I’m at a loss. I’ve met my match.

Can a Recovering Hoarder survive The School Years?

It started with Preschool. I kept every single paper and piece of artwork she did. I put it all in a file. See? It’s not hoarding if it’s neat and out of sight, right? In fact, I’ll just call it “filing” and “organization.” See? It’s NOT a problem, and certainly NOT hoarding. Then, Kindergarten started. The amount of paperwork that comes home weekly in her backpack is daunting. The file expanded into an entire section, which soon migrated to a cardboard box. (Yes, that’s a photo of it above…)

This weekend, I realized I had a problem. At this rate, we’ll need another whole room by the time she’s in 3rd Grade.

I know what I need to do. I need to just throw it all away. The really cool art pieces have either been photographed or framed, but the other stuff? We don’t need it. It’s just taking up space.

But, I’m paralyzed by the cuteness of the handwriting and matching drawings. If I throw them away, it’s like I’m throwing away my memories of her when she would make her e’s like that, and look at how she drew people! How can I possible throw that away? I’m powerless against this.

I know this is so silly and makes no sense to someone who doesn’t battle hoarding. To someone who can look at a piece of paper and see it for what it really is, the answer is clear: “When is Garbage Day? Thursday? Great. You have until then.”

I know what needs to happen; I just need to summon the strength.

Do you battle hoarding? What do you do with all your kid’s schoolwork?