Family Time

The day after Christmas all 14 Dearmans flew out to Breckenridge, Colorado for a week of skiing. I recently learned that this tradition of the Christmas ski vacation began when my mother-in-law, Carla, was a teenager. Actually, the tradition began as "let's get in the car and drive until we find snow and then spend our Christmas week there" which eventually evolved into an annual trip skiing out west. Taylor loves reminiscing about Christmas trips and bragging about what an incredibly good skier he is for just skiing a week at Christmastime each year. He proved that yes, he is an expert double black diamond skier and yes, I am content with feeling extremely challenged looking down the face of a wide groomed blue run.

Ted and Carla: Thanks for such a great trip. Many memories were made. I can't wait to go back in a few years when Henry is old enough to give skiing a try!

Here I am looking pretty rough after a morning of skiing. Taking care of your small child and maximizing your skiing time can be a difficult thing to balance. This particular morning, I was dressed and ready to ski by myself at 8:30. Can you imagine my thoughts when a guy on the ski lift asked me what grade I was in!?!?! I pulled off my goggles and hat (so he could see all my gray hair) and replied that I have a husband and a baby back in our condo!
Back to the picture -- we were eating lunch at Eric's Downstairs. 27 beers on draft.
num yummy...good Colorado microbrewery beer.....num yummy. My hair was crazy straight (not dirty, as it might look to some) with the total lack of humidity in Colorado.

This is my attempt at a rather artistic framing of the Breckenridge ski resort.

Baby Henry all bundled up on a stroll through town. I hate that I didn't get a good picture of his super cute red wagon snow suit, but I know that he was definitely warm and cozy under entirely too many layers of clothing.

This hat tricks you into thinking that Taylor has dreadlocks hidden under his cap. But, no....this hand-knitted by Russian peasants hat was a gift from my parents. Too bad that the big sweater robe was too bulky to fit into a suitcase or he would have been modeling his total Russian outfit on the ski slopes.

My father-in-law and I are having a serious (or so it looks) discourse on the best sunblock to use while skiing.