Archive for the ‘winter’ Tag
January 17 2012
Taking advantage of the wet powder sheeting the ground before it disappeared in the following day’s spring-like forecast, I promised my kids some time to play in the remaining snow. Within our advancing initial steps, we bent down to grab a handful and set our sights on any nearby target. The first shot in the friendly winter war.
I had only a single rule to follow: Don’t hit anyone in the face.
With each tag and a mark of evident precipitation left in its place, a telltale hit. Traipsing through the snow, a cast of footprints trailing behind. It was mayhem of flying snow and flinging laughter. It didn’t take long, however. As then, I breached my own command. Admittedly, a striking lucky shot.
Bam! Oops. A smashed snowball square at Jedi’s face.
His eyes froze shut for a brief moment before he turned to me, cold crystals clinging to his lashes. I was ready to apologize, concealing my amused surprised, instead prepared to deal with the ridiculous fallout. To wipe the snow away from his wet cheeks. But then he laughed, the greatest kind of laugh. Infectious as it was. And so did I.
“Revenge!”, Jedi declared as he rose, scooping more snow into a compact mound. Believe me, he got it.
Apologies were still said, though unnecessary. Because accidents happen. Even moreover, sometimes rules are supposed to be broken. Especially when they’re your own. It’s when an act of fun can reign profound. In that moment, it proved to be a very good kind of oops.
February 10 2011
We were geared up, stifled really, and waiting by the door for the last few minutes to tick by before we could depart to meet Jedi at his bus stop. When it’s so cold outside, I try to time it as close as I can, though we were ready for the extremities. Firetruck scarf, Darth Vader hat, mittens, gloves, Spiderman boots, faux-fur hoods.
There was still a few minutes left, though, so we stood at the glass door, impatiently glaring out into the packed snow. Cars pass in front and seconds churn while siblings bickered in full winter regalia back and forth.
All of a sudden, Buzz runs off to his room.
“Buzz, we’re about to leave!”, I remind, hoping he didn’t retreat to discard his many layers.
I had nothing to fear in that regard, though, as he even added on more to his outfit. Perched on top of his still-in-place insulated hood was a Santa Claus hat, the fuzzy dangling ball on the end batting from his face. Of course, as soon as Abby notices, she wants to wear hers, too.
So that’s how we wound up strolling past the other neighborhood parents like a holiday 2 months past its prime, with Buzz yelling “Ho Ho HO Merry Christmas!” at everyone we saw. Because we’re just that festive. I’m sure it didn’t look strange in the slightest.
December 15 2010
7 pairs of socks (the kids’ feet doubled up for warmth)
3 cotton beanies
3 coats zipped to their chin
6 buttons buttoned
4 hoods up
3 scarves, wrapped around mouths
2 pairs of mittens
2 pairs of gloves
1 pair of snow boots
3 in the warmest shoes they own (note to self: get boots)
0 degrees when we had to stand waiting at the bus stop
20 minutes to bundle everyone up, including myself
I kept Jedi home from school on Monday because the wind chills were biting in the negatives. However, this is his last week before winter break, where he’ll be off for 17 days. So Tuesday morning, even though it was still a paltry 0 degrees, I was determined to brave the elements. We have months to deal with the cold, might as well get used to it.
After bundling everyone to the point where they could barely move their upper bodies, we set out. On the way, I asked Jedi if he was warm enough.
“I am successfully warm. 100% warm”, he said, muffled through his scarf.
Of course, once we made it to the corner, they wanted to play. Their mittens turned wet and snow found it’s way up their coat sleeves. Buzz fell to the ground and waved his arms in the white, while the tip of his nose turned red, his cheeks puffed in happiness. The elements successfully braved, and then some.
December 01 2010
Last winter, we wandered into a thrift shop, as we sometimes like to do. The boys, of course, head first in the direction of toys. They dig through those and usually come away with at least one new treasure to toss into the pile at home. But it’s well worth it if it buys even a moment of happiness for 25 cents.
I don’t usually scour for clothes in thrift stores, or really anywhere for that matter. I’d much rather peruse housewares or kids stuff. This day, however, as were almost through checkout, a chunky knit shawl-style sweater caught my eye.
It was soft. Unbelievably soft and comfortable and appeared much more expensive than the $3.00 I bought it for. My luck usually isn’t that good. Even the woman working the register remarked on my glorious find. “We just put that out”, she confessed with a hint of envy. Right place, right time, maybe I should have purchased a lottery ticket after.
I wore that super soft, comfortable sweater layered with pride until the warm weather of spring began to rear it’s rainy head, when it was sadly banished to the back of my closet. Every now and then, I’d gaze at it longingly while vulnerable in the bare sleeves of warmer months’ tops.
Then, this week, with a biting chill once again in the air, I was at last able to retrieve my much missed sweater from the dark. I slipped it on and instantly felt warm again; home, protected, cozy.
I’ve never been a summer girl. You can take your blazing sun, I’d much rather have the soft comfort of being bundled up in the cold. Welcome, December.
January 08 2010
In my head, I’m sometimes still a little girl. A little girl with big responsibilities. This is especially evident when it comes to any relevant amount of snow. The next morning, I find myself checking local television reports to see which school districts are closed with a ping of excitement.
Snow days just aren’t the same unless it snows enough to cancel school.
Yesterday was exactly that. I awoke to a blanket of blinding white shining through my windows. Like a kid, my first instinct was to peek outside at how many inches accumulated. It was calling for the young in us to play, to build snowmen, to sled. It was also calling for hot chocolate and cozy pajamas and staying warm indoors.
When you’re young, the snow doesn’t seem as cold. It’s simply spread in front of you like a pure, open canvas. Exciting, fun. And there you are, bundled up in so many layers you can barely move. The difference between being a child and now, with children of our own, is that there’s also the other side. Instead of snuggily sleeping in until noon, I’m awake by 8 a.m. regardless. J missed a day of work because of the conditions. He trudged outside and shoveled the driveway. The car had to be defrosted. I had to restrain Buzz from running outside in barefeet and shirtless. Daily chores still need completed, diapers still need changed. The brightness of the snow settled into a migraine later that afternoon.
In my head, I may sometimes be a little girl playing for hours in the snow. In reality, I’m a mother getting pelted by snowballs from her children, but quickly ready to go back inside where it’s warm.
