For the last couple of days I have been trying to write my New Years post. For some reason (kids, cleaning, cooking, dieting, sleeping) it is taking me a while to gather all of my "welcome 2017" thoughts. And then this little snow day thing happened and distracted me and I started writing about today. The New Years post is already a week behind, what is a few more days?
I (finally at 2:45pm) sit here on my nice warm couch looking out the window at the winter wonderland. I've been haunted all day by the expectation to create magical memories of each blessed snow day. I'm kind of over it.
I was thinking this morning while in the shower (seconds after my children barged in on my naked self to ask if we could go out and play in the snow...my son may never recover) I kind of wish that we lived a little further north so that snow would be a little less of a novelty. Since it only snows 2 maybe 3 times a year in the southeast, there is a tremendous amount of pressure to soak up every second of this weather phenomenon.
Don't get me wrong. I love snow. I really do. I remember as a kid the excitement of snow, but specifically the excitement of watching the TV waiting to see if my school's name would be listed as one of the cancellations. Come to think of it, I don't remember ever actually playing in the snow as a kid. or making snow cream. or sledding. And I surely don't remember my parents taking part in the festivities. Parents in the 80s were not in the business of making magical childhood moments. One of the many reasons I wish we could go back to the 80s. (others include: hanging at the Mall, being dropped off at the skating rink, the Cosby Show, and of course the Reagan/Bush political era. Sorry if I just offended any democrat readers, but I have always had a thing for the Bushes.)
Honestly, as a 2017 mom, I kind of dread this whole snow day thing. I know we aren't supposed to admit this, but snow days are a ridiculous amount of work for the mom. First of all, my family in general is a lazy bunch of folks. We like to take it slow in the morning. Saturday. mornings are made for watching cartoons and reading and coffee drinking. But we get a little frozen precipitation and suddenly my kids are up and at 'em at 7am fully dress and wanting to go play. "Hold your horses kiddos. What's the rush? Mama needs her coffee and sittin time."
I firmly believe that snow days should be a dad thing. I'm not the "run around outside" parent when the weather is pleasant and certainly don't have the desire to do it when it is cold and the closest thing to snow boots I have is my super cute rain boots that leave my toes vulnerable to frostbite. I should point out that none of us actually have decent snow apparel. Because as mentioned before these things would only be used 2 out of 365 days a year and as any finance smarty pants would tell you, that's a horrible return on your investment. But this is a fact that only seems to bother me. Kids don't mind a little frost bite.
I don't mean to sound like such a grump. I do actually love watching them make snow angels and throw snowballs at each other (but not at me!!!), and I also love the taste of snow cream and hot chocolate. It's just the Instagram pressure to make it magical that gets to me. I feel guilty if I don't make the most of it and beautifully document on social media. It's exhausting because what you don't see on Instagram is the child crying who got hit in the face with a snowball. Or that 2 out of 3 kids had to come and strip down after 5 minutes because they forgot to go to the bathroom. Or that you forgot to buy hot chocolate so you had to use 2 old packets found at the back of the pantry and then find a way to stretch it out to 3 mugs without anyone noticing. And finally, no one takes a cute picture of someone spilling that precious hot chocolate all over the living room floor after they BEGGED and PROMISED to be careful if they could drink it while watching a movie.
These are all hypothetical examples of course.
But then I look back at my own Instagram worthy pics and they make me smile. And I almost forget the grinchy attitude I had earlier in the day. I see their little hats and gloves drying off next to the fire and I determine that I will remember to be thankful for that fire and those little hands. And then if I need a little more motivation, I make myself another bowl of chocolate chip snow cream. That combo will perk even the mom with the coldest feet right up.
FACEBOOK FROM THE PAST
My littlest has her first birthday in a week. I have made no plans and no practice smash cakes. There is no theme and no presents have been bought. My how different is the life of a 3rd child. Poor Lou. Maybe aunt Carmen Keen can give you a pep talk and tell you being the baby is all bad.