The winter that isn't

My Mr. grumbles daily about this weather.
I say, it's a perfectly beautiful March day. It just happens to be February.
Don't we deserve a break now and then?
Last winter I returned from an early morning run with Drake proclaiming that it "felt pretty cold out there this morning". When I checked the thermometer it read -12•.
Forgive me for enjoying these balmy temps. But I do think they just might be keeping me afloat.

“What I need is the dandelion in the spring. The bright yellow that means rebirth instead of destruction. The promise that life can go on, no matter how bad our losses. That it can be good again.”
― Suzanne Collins

A good ole' romp

This time last winter my heart was heavy. It was the winter blues I tell you, the winter blues.

But I have found my medicine.

No More Secs.

Yesterday, while we waited for Dec's afternoon bus to roll on up, I figured I'd chip away at the ice on our driveway and walkways before more ice arrived (falling as I type).

I needed Dec's help to hold our swinging gate while I got rid of the ice immediately under it. He really didn't want to help, but did it for a few minutes. Then he let go and the gate closed on my legs. Without realizing it I must have said: please just hold it open for a few more secs. No, no more secs Mommy I don't want to hold on for any more secs!

At first I hadn't even realized that I had said the same phrase to him. I just whipped around with a "What-do-you-mean-any-more-sex-And-who-taught-you-that-word-anyway?!?" look on my face. And then I remembered I'd asked him to hold on for a few more secs. Uh-oh.

But instead of making an issue about it, I just dropped it and started to chip away at another section of the driveway.

But then, all I hear is Nonie is a secser, Nonie is a secser! coming from his mouth.
So I ask politely for him to never say that again.

It sounded like "Nonie is a sexer" and I don't even know what that is but I didn't like it.

And then, because God is Good, the little bus pulled up and Dec jumped aboard.
And simultaneously....because God gives me what I can handle and no more or no less -
Nonie slipped on the ice and banged her head.

And so then I blew kisses to Dec on the bus as I held the bellowing Nonie in my arms.
And next, I smooched Nonie's sweet little head.

The bus roared on up the road and as it did I laughed, because Dec didn't want to hold on for any more secs.

And that was just funny.

I bet God thought so too.

let's do this

Well old man.
Looks like you're here to stay.
The winter pajama uniform of head to toe fleece is already well worn.
You have blown your cold breath of frost and snow onto the leafless mountains.You make me leave for work in the dark and get home pretty close to it.
My car has lumbered into its deep winter chill which requires my revving the gas pedal while turning the key. A little foot tap of support on my part to keep everyone's spirits up.
I do not dare to set foot out the door without tea in hand to ensure that my mitts don't numb from the cold.
Though I am wearing my gloves they are purely fashion over function and I won't let you take that away from me.
That's right.
You heard me.

Fashion
______

Function

Can you spy?

A blue jay?

MANY inches of HEAVY wet snow?
New blond highlights and perhaps your face?

Once there was a tree...and she loved a little boy.

And the boy loved the tree very much.

And the tree was happy.

Excerpts from the Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein

Back in the Day

So much talk about snow coming and storms brewing lately. This winter has kept so many glued to the TV. The weather becomes the news about once every two weeks. When will the first flake fall? How many inches will we get? Snowdrifts and black ice... Snow days and cars off the road - oh my.

Standing in the pitch black forest up in Stowe one night last week (while waiting for the dogs to do their thing) the wind blew through the brittle winter trees. It was a beautiful sound. The dogs crunched through the snow. My slow heavy breathing grew slower and heavier.

It was a peaceful moment and all I could think about was back in the day.

Long before hype overshadowed a snowstorm, and forecasters one-upped each other with predictions and estimates - what did that cold wind blowing and first few drops of snow mean to people? Did they wonder how much would come, or how long the snow would last? Did they look to the threatening clouds and think, I wonder if I have enough milk? Or This is going to be a real pain in the neck to shovel.

Back when there were modest wooden homes nestled deep in the woods, way back to when teepees dotted the horizon...what did a snowstorm bring with it?

I picture people looking up to the sky with a grateful indifference then sauntering back to the coziness of their home wrapped up in layers of fur and sipping steaming cups of tea for days on end.

If you listen to the cold wind blowing, that is what it sounds like it is telling us all to do.

Relax.

Again and again and, well, again

It is groundhog day.
Guess what? I really DID NOT like that movie with Bill Murray. It annoyed me a lot. But I do like the idea of Groundhog Day even though I always want to call him Punxsutawney Pete instead of Phil. I think it has a better ring to it. Punxsatawney is not spelled at all like I thought it was.
Anyway, I am not surprised that there are six more weeks of winter because winter is a cold gray blanket that likes to stay on the bed for a while.
I am the bed, in this case.

A year ago I walked down the street.Winter was not cold.
Or gray.
Winter was green.
I wore skirts.

I stepped over this on the sidewalk.
A bit more elegant than "SEWER" wouldn't you say?

Cars greeted me on St. Charles Ave.
Well BEEP BEEP to you, sir.

I am having this feeling these days. When I rise and when I lay my head down.

It is still winter.
It will be winter tomorrow.

I will be cold.
*This time last year I was not cold*
although Annie, Tese and Maddy might disagree about the heat's ability to work in my pad

I still miss New Orleans.
I still wonder if I ever should have left.
I wonder if I ever should have gone in the first place.

I know that Spring will come.
The nagging feelings of gray and wanderlust will subside.
Green will return.
The "what if's" and the "but when's" will fade away.

And I will welcome them all.

Just like every groundhog year.

"My Hands Are Full"

What a day. Where to begin? I still have the smell of vomit wafting from my wedding band as I type. 3 washes and still a faint smell. Not sure if I really care any more.

It started with the surprise snowstorm, which I immediately used as an excuse to keep Dec home from school. No delay, no cancellations --- but I heard the roads were terrible this morning. We wouldn't know. We were knee deep in closet organization and finding the ultimate comfy snowy day outfits to change into. All three of us.

Afternoon plans to spend magical time at Xave's quickly faded as Nonie's eyes grew glassier and glassier throughout the morning. By lunchtime I gave her some pain relief, recorded a temperature of 102 and carried on with the day.

By about 3pm we were ALL ready to burst out of Happy House. It just wasn't big enough for all of us. Nonie was restless and not comfortable in her own skin. Dec caught on to the fact that there was, in fact, school today (which he missed) and began to jump about as if to prove to me that he should've been there. We had to get out.

First though - a short work call during which I heard myself thinking, "what whiney kids in the background??? Oh! those two feverish kids who are bouncing off the walls!!!? Yup, they're with me." Apparently I forgot to clear my "grand plan" (of having them both quietly resting while I conducted the call) with their inner sleep schedules. Maybe next time.

So we went to Dec's school to drop something off and on a whim I grabbed his sled. Figured we'd drive about before pulling in - to let "feeling miserable Nonie" (sounds like a name of a toy doll huh?) fall asleep on the way there. Didn't happen. She fought every south-bound eyelash and reversed the force of gravity that seemed (at least to me, from my rearview view) to be tugging those lashes down to a restful state.

At the school Dec made tracks in untracked snow. And, I immediately thought to myself: Oh NO! I just let him go sledding in forbidden (during school hours) territory!!! How do I cover his tracks (my tracks!) OUR TRACKS ALL OUR TRACKS!!!! before the gaggle of students arrive in the morning and see that the prime sledding hill, can ACTUALLY BE USED (AND HAS BEEN USED!) for sledding!!!

We (I, with my tail between my legs for breaking school rules) wandered over to a GrandCathal and Nonie who were both miserable together in the parking lot. Cathal: so darn cold he was actually shivering. Nonie: so darn sick she was actually mean to him (typically she is the sweetest darn thing in his presence - she works that relationship good and hard).

GrandCathal pointed to the sky and said - another squall is coming, hope it isn't freezing rain. Best be going. So we jumped in the car. By the time we got 100 yards from the school - the torrential snow (is that possible) plummeted at us from the sky.

By the time we got to our road a wee 5 minutes later, it was pitch black and I couldn't see the front of my car, or the side of the road, or oncoming traffic, or any of that other useless stuff.

Noticed immediately that shoveling needed to be done and the safest and warmest place for Nonie was in the car while we tended to it. She sat and picked her nose while we shoveled (I peaked twice through the foggy windows at her and both times she was delighted in her runny nose). Dec started on the front porch - I took the driveway area.

Not too long into it I called to him, "Hey Murph! Can you get me the big red shovel - this little black one is too small and heavy".

He seemed so far away in these blizzard conditions. But I caught a glimpse of his blue jacket and his tiny plastic kid's snow shovel. Then I watched him steady himself on the slippery walkway stone.

His reply is what stopped me, "Don't you see my hands are full Mom? I can't pick up your shovel for you!"

And just like that I gasped on the tiny laugh (filled mostly with shock) that erupted from my belly. Did I just hear him right? What sass!

And so, I got what I deserved. Absolutely 100%.

For Dec, I'm certain, had heard me say that to him at least once this very week. Granted, and my memory of the statement is becoming vividly clear as I type this, the actual context of my "hands are full" remark to him was this:

Picture: Little Me. Carrying Nonie. WHILE carrying 4 reusable shopping bags filled with 6 seltzers, laundry detergent, 2 gallons of milk, 1 1/2 dozen eggs, and several other cans of refried beans and 4 loaves of bread. WHILE (at the very same time) carrying his LLBEAN school bag. And Nonie's diaper bag.

He asks me in full awareness of my heavy load, "can you open this juice box for me".

To which I replied (lovingly), "Dec, can't you see my hands are full? I will when I put your sissy and all this stuff down....".

And so, you're all thinking I deserved his comment aren't you? Aren't you? Well, you can think that....

Now, on to the vomitty ring.

Actually, I'll save that for next time.

Super-Saturated Mittens

It wasn't until we were well on our way to school that Dear Dec reached into his schoolbag and announced that his mittens were super-saturated. He didn't use those words, of course. Rather he flung them toward me and announced with snark in his sound, "look how wet I got my mittens yesterday on the playground!"

With minutes to spare - actually, not really. Kindly note that drop off for school is 8:50am SHARP and the picture above certainly gives my tardiness away.

With no time to spare, I flip the mittens inside out and pinch the tops through the opening of the car's heater. Dec congratulates me on my "good idea" from the back seat. Thanks buddy. Most of the time, he's my biggest fan.

Ever alert and with the heater so high it actually lifted the tiny hairs from the front of his face, Dec announced a few moments later, that the car smelled like old sardine stew and rotten garbage - some of his daddy's words that made his mouth turn into a grin. His cherub cheeks turned out the window to see why. "Ewwww mommy! what is that smell?!"

The stench circulated at us from all directions and actually made my tired eyes water. We pulled over. I checked the rear view to see if I'd run over rotten garbage, a carcass, or some other filthy find. I had not.

The stench, I soon suspected, was wafting from Dec's gamie mitten innards. Is that really possible? Could mittens really contain such stink? Do I dare put my nose near them to confirm my suspicions? If I cringe, how will Dec feel?

I decided to do what all good mothers should do in such a situation. I played dumb and kept my nose far away from the mittens. Reason A: Sure as heck don't want to make my boy feel less than perfect moments before walking into preschool. Reason B: if I know for a fact that the mittens smelled so bad, I couldn't possibly put them on his hands - but if I don't know, then off he goes stinky mittens and all. And finally, Reason C: did I mention? we had no time to spare.

Were they dry when we got to school? You ask. No. Not even close. They were warm, wet, and wafting: just the way Dec (apparently) loves them.

us vs. them

In the spirit of the upcoming Olympics, I would like to share with you my thoughts on the way Canadians do two very important things.

The first is cross country skiing.
This picture was taken just over a week ago. We went for a cross country ski and although I fell on my arse two times, I still managed a smile.

I did not take a picture of my experience cross country skiing today because there was no smile involved. There were lots of hills and sprightly Canadians whizzing around me. I would have none of that! So like a true competitor, I took of my skis and walked back to the car. They can't be better if I'm not even trying! Ha!

The second is sledding. Good old-fashioned, no rules, let's get tossed around, when I say "bail" bail, knock people down who are standing in our way sledding.
How are you supposed to do that when your sledding hill looks like this...

Once back on VT soil we took the new sled over to the Round Church hill.


And did some whizzing around of our own.


See Canada!