I just spent the weekend with a girlfriend that I have not
seen in like 12 years…
Crystal was my bridesmaid at my wedding 16 years ago. We have since lived in separate provinces
and have scarcely been in touch. She had her first child at the ripe old age of
20 and I the age of 23.
Any single mom who devotes as much as Crystal has to giving
her gifted-needs first born child everything available on the planet to succeed
in life is a rock star in my eyes. Now, she
has had 3 more babies. All of whom are now under the age of 8. As if raising 4
children wasn’t a ridiculous endeavor, she has managed to simultaneously amass
a small fortune, and by small I mean the likes of a feudal system Lord-ess. She’s a little bit bad-ass.
Crystal rolled into Whistler village in her new Escalade
and her little army in tow for the Wonderlust yoga and music festival last
week. DDILF, my 16 year old Toad and our
German Exchange student Max, (because I need exchange students just to keep
this old dingy afloat) rolled into our camp site with a trailer down by the river.
DDILF is utterly thrilled that we have our own weekend retreat for $11 a night.
Let me tell you it’s worth every penny, every penny and not a penny more. No white trash here boy, no Sir-ee. What are you looking at?
Crystal text messaged me from her resort hotel “Let’s take the kids
white-water rafting or something totally obnoxious. My treat! My 6 and 8 year olds are totally
hard core and I want them to have fun”
Say no more… this is my town! I am Adrienne La Montagne, fearless mountain
guide and adventure seeker. I got this.
Within a couple of hours me and my entourage were barreling up a logging
road to Whistler Bungee for lessons in scared shit-less. Just to clarify, the kids weren’t scared
shit-less, I was.
One after another every member of both families hurled
themselves off the 160ft bridge. We were secured only by a springy rope to a belt and then tied to a bridge. Not by some camouflaged clad marine that might have instilled a sense of safety and inspired heroic bravery but by Josh, a 20 something dread-lock-haired dude who sounded eerily like Spicoli and his English side-kick Wigglesworth, and by English I mean drunk. Well, probably not drunk at that moment but I was
concerned. Sorry for stereotyping. I love Brits. They make great drinking buddies.
The 6 and 8 year old went off that bridge like they were
freaking spawns of Spiderman.
Aleksandar’s arms and legs swam frantically as he fell like
he was in an imminent death spiral. I laughed my ass off. 6 year old
Savo smiled gleefully as he was gently dangled and dropped clear off the 160
ft. platform. Then it was my turn… I nearly
cried. I stood on that platform toes pointed out into the abyss of a massive
river canyon and my life flashed before my eyes. I turned around slowly, I couldn’t
look out, or down, I looked Dreadlock Josh straight in his mirrored sunglasses
Me: Um… no thanks, I am going to get off now.
Josh : smiling apathetically
Me: Gulp… turning
pale
Josh: “You are totally gonna do this is, it’s gonna
be totally awesome, and you’re going to do
this on the first count of one. Ready…”
(“Ready” was a statement and not a question, so to imply
that I better be fucking ready cause I have clients who want to jump)
Josh: “and 5, 4, 3,
2, 1…”
White terror… Photos of my jump revealed my body position
stiff as a fucking board with legs and toes pointed straight down like a an
Olympic diver going into a pike. This was not the posture of the notorious mountain
thrill seeker I am so infamous for being, but I do highly recommended the
experience. There’s nothing like a simulated death experience to bring family
and friends together.
Coming up next more thrilling adventures, (all in the same day)
lessons on how to raise extremely fucking cool kids like these, and then later... the beneficial
effect excessive swearing has on children…
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