I go ahead and start gathering my things, bags, diaper bag, iPad, blanket, baby Coop. Before I can even blink my baby, my sweet precious baby Coop who is just a little two-year-old sweetie is taken from my arms and put in the lap of my brother-in-law on a snowmachine and is whisked up the mountain to the cabin.
All while I stand there mouth hanging open.
All while that child of mine screamed and shit his pants.
I look at my other brother-in-law who stands about 8-foot-tall, sitting on his snowmachine. I quickly realize that I'm not going to fit on that machine, he's obviously been drinking and that incline is about a 90 degree angle up to the house.
He says, "What?"
"No. I am not riding on the back of that, up the mountain, with you."
He says that's fine, I just need to walk up there.
"Walk where? Straight up there?"
"Yes. Straight up that way." He points straight up the fucking mountain.
I notice that there a little windy trail halfway up and I asked if I go on that or do I really, seriously in fact just go straight up. He says that, yes, I need to go straight up. I gather all of my things. Duffel bag (a beautiful felted wool bag that Joe received for Christmas, lovely), diaper bag, blanket, and my iPad.
It's at this point that I would like to remind and point out to you that I just parked my car on a lake. ON THE ICE OF A LAKE MY CAR IS PARKED. Okay, that is all.
I start walking up this mountain (I can't stress this fact enough.) and realize about ten strides up that I am going to die right here on the face of this killing machine. I was near tears and sitting in the snow when I hear the snowmachine start up at the bottom. I know right then that I either make it up or I'm about to be run over. I stand up. Then fall down and proceed to crawl and lunge using all of my limbs and I make it. Only to be greeted by my sister-in-law who says, "You made it!". I grunted a few choice words and flung myself into the house.
I just speed crawled up a mountain in -22 degree weather. My lungs are full of ice and blood and my heart is in my brain. I wasn't able to breathe until yesterday.
I collapse into a camping chair (I'm inside, btw.) and after I'm able to form words that are semi-coherent I mutter, "Man, what a bitch climbing straight up that god forsaken mountain."
"Yeah..that's a...wait, you climbed STRAIGHT up?" replies everyone...except for huge brother in law. "Why didn't you take the switch-back?" asks everyone...except for brother in law that plainly told me not to do that exact thing, so I didn't because I'm a rule follower, especially when my life is on the line and I could've plunged into icy waters below for all I fucking know.
I was air born. I landed on the back of said brother-in-law and attacked with my tiny, inefficient fists.
There's more. I can't talk about it right now, all this reminiscing is making me tired and a little bit psychotic.