Insane, Normal, or Normally Insane?

Mid December, we went on our first skiing morning of the season.

We only skied for two hours, making the trip to the resort super time-inefficient.
There was hardly any snow.
The fog did not allow us to see much further than our feet.
It was bitterly cold.
It was great.

On our way back home, I briefly pondered whether I was a bit crazy, or maybe even maybe a fully-fledged nutcase. I mean, altough I post so rarely now that you may be forgiven for forgetting that I now have a little Malo to look after, (unless you are also reading this) the fact is, I do have a baby. Which means that I should be happily spending my days lovingly looking after him., right? And even more so when it is miserable outside. Instead, what was I doing on that Saturday morning: braving the elements to go for a sub-par skiing session. And abandonning my baby to do so. And having fun doing so.

So what does that make me? Insane would be the obvious answer for most people. What the point, I hear many saying, going through all that trouble for 2 hours of something which sounds anything but fun. Plus, her baby was barely 3 month old, so why leaving him to strangers to go and freeze her butt off on slopes with patches of snow between the grass? (Note to Nelly: No, you're not a stranger, quite the opposite, but I am just trying to get a message across, see?)

But then again, a year ago, I already did just that, getting on my skies at the very first opportunity. Why? Because it is fun: it involves being outside, it involves doing sports, it involves sweating and feeling one's muscles burning. In a nutshell, it makes me feel alive. So, could it be that it was actually not insane, but a normal thing to do?

Then the truth drew in me. It was insane. And it was also normal. Because doing insane things is what I normally do. And why being a mum would change that? The only things it will change going forward, is that I may not be able to be insane as often as in the past. And being insane will also require some planning, for when, like on this Saturday of December, we cannot take the little one to be insane with us.

Ah, planning... Now, that could well drive me really insane...