I celebrated my 27th birthday this past Friday, March 13th. However, the "party" didn't truly begin until the following day.

John and I drove to my moms house Friday night. She offered to watch the kiddos while John and I went to Tahoe (for the second weekend in a row...woo hoo!).

After getting a not-so-good nights rest (Christian cried in his sleep most of the night), we woke up bright and early Saturday morning and took off for Squaw Valley. Neither John or myself had ever been to Squaw so we were really looking forward to an awesome day of snowboarding. Unfortunately I totally jacked up my wrist Thursday evening (not sure how, I think I slept on it wrong), so I was worried about how it would affect me. I couldn't do the simplest of things: brush my hair, zip up my jacket, pick up the kids, etc. without it hurting like hell. Luckily my mom let me borrow one of her braces, so my wrist felt a ton better the next morning.

John and I got to Squaw around 8:30 a.m. Saturday morning. The lifts didn't open until 9:00 a.m., so we thought we'd see if our hotel would let us check in early....and they did!

My mom got us a room at the Olympic Village Inn. It's a super cute motel nestled at the bottom of the mountain, and is walking distance to Squaw Village. The motel was used by athletes during the Olympics in the '60s. It came fully equipped with a kitchen (fully stocked with plates, cups, cookware), and living room with a pullout couch.

After we got settled, we caught the shuttle to the lifts. John had been telling me all morning (and the previous evening) about the "trolley" that would take us up the mountain. He said that it was the largest "trolley" in North America, and he wasn't exaggerating one bit! The thing was HUGE, and it scared the crap out of me.

We got off the trolley and made our way to the beginner slope to warm up. As soon as we stepped outside, a huge gust of wind whipped my face. I felt like I had just stepped into a blizzard, minus the fresh snow. The slope was covered in ice which immediately made me think of my injured wrist. If I fell on this mountain covered in ice, it would hurt like hell. That initial fear ruined my chances of ever having a great run.

On my first attempt down the slope guess what happened? I fell and landed on my wrist...OUCH! I was already defeated. Every time I stood up and tried to coast down the mountain I got scared once I started to pick up speed. I knew that the rest of the day would be a disaster, and as soon as I got to the bottom of the mountain I told John that I was "done". He tried to talk me out of it, but it was a lost cause. The "fear" had already seeped into my bones.

John accompanied me back to the motel. I was a little bummed that my snowboarding excursion ended so abruptly. But to be completely honest, I was looking forward to just relaxing the rest of the day. John hung out with me for about an hour. He took me to 7-Eleven where I stocked up on snacks. We went to the lobby and rented some DVD's, and then he took another shuttle back to the mountain. (Oh, and FYI we were able to sell my lift ticket to someone who was waiting for the half day passes to go on sale.) I passed out on the bed watching television just before John went back to snowboard, and I woke up when he got back to the motel.

Later that evening John took me out to an amazing meal at an Irish Pub. I ordered something called a "boxty". It's essentially a potato pancake stuffed with different assortments. I got the Irish Stew Boxty, and it was delicious. Seriously, whoever thought that stuffing a pancake with beef stew would be delicious, is a genius. John got a corned beef sandwich, and had a horrible run in with some horseradish mayo.

After dinner we got some coffee and walked around Squaw Village. It was a beautifully chilly night. The mountain was lit up for night skiing. Folks were skating on the outdoor skating rink, and people were warming up by the outdoor fire pit. What an amazing night.

There were a couple of things that I learned this weekend: for some reason all of the girls who live in Tahoe and snowboard look like Spicoli, and there are a lot of Aussies living in Tahoe (as well as South Americans). Nothing too profound, just something I noticed ;)

Here are some more photos for you to enjoy!