I've been excited about the possibility of this weather event for a few days, which is odd, because I don't even really like snow that much. It's cold, it's messy, it's cold...I hate being cold! My snow boots hurt my feet, I don't have any waterproof pants, I fall down really easily (even when the ground is perfectly dry), and it's just not really my thing for more than fifteen or twenty minutes of novelty and picture-taking.
Back in "the day," I was more adventurous. I skied in my teens (not well, mind you), used to thrive on the idea of building igloos as a kid, and in our early marriage, enjoyed nothing more than the snow parties we had with our best friends. You can't beat getting snowed in with lots of alcohol in the house. But that sort of wore off. Now I'm afraid of falling down and getting hurt, I don't have the patience for a snowman taller than about two feet, and the only place I want to be snowed in is at home. A few of those snow parties ended up with my drunken decision to walk home--several miles, if I recall--always regretting it when it was too far to turn back and when I started to feel as if I might die in a snowdrift next to the road. So I hunker down and get cozy, and hope the snow will be enough to keep the hubby home from work too, so that I don't have to be the one having snowball fights with the kid.
There is something, though, about the impending weather that just gives me goosebumps. Call it a throwback to childhood when snow days were like winning the lottery (wait, they still are), or call it one of the few fringe benefits of my job (we can argue this one later--tell me how hard your job is when you have to eat lunch in nine minutes and go all day without making it to the bathroom once)...whatever it is, it's great! And we haven't had many of them this year--well, not for real. We've had some cancellations for bad weather that never amounted to more than roads that were slick for about five minutes, but nothing for actual, measurable snow. I've been convinced that it wasn't snowing, as a matter of fact, because I had been proactive for once in my life and bought the kid a brand-new pair of bad ass snow pants back in December when all of the winter gear was on sale at JC Penney (you know, to make room for the spring and summer wear we all have to have in January).
Those snow pants (the ones I wish I had a pair of myself, actually) are part of the reason for the excitement. See, as much as I really couldn't care much less about being out in the snow, I have a seven year-old kid who is just beside himself with his love for it. Remember when you'd play in the snow until your hands and feet were bright red, until you were sweating inside all the layers your mom made you pile on, only to suddenly become really cold when the snow melted through your clothes? We certainly didn't have those fancy pants my kid has...I was lucky if I had long underwear underneath a pair of jeans and maybe a pair of my mom's gloves. I remember a few occasions getting caught here at my grandmother's house with no boots, and slipping bread bags over our feet to keep them dry because we just HAD to go out and play. We'd scrounge around for some plastic sheeting or a big garbage bag to tear up and go sliding down the hill on, because the snow was THERE. We'd be out there for hours, come back in the house covered with snow that immediately melted into puddles on the kitchen floor and beg for hot chocolate while the feeling suddenly and unpleasantly came back into our frost-bitten extremities. And it was fantastic!
Andrew's at that stage. He loves the snow so much that he ran outside in his sock feet tonight to stand on the sidewalk and catch snowflakes in his mouth. He laid out his snow pants in the spot that his school clothes usually get put out at night, and he plans to get up first thing in the morning to go out to play. (I have veto power, fortunately.) He said quietly, just before going to sleep, "I hope we're out all week," and I know he has grand plans of finding the perfect hill, of ambushing us with snowballs, and of building a pathetic little snowman in the front yard, of multiple cups of hot chocolate with little marshmallows and of spending his days in pajamas and wrecking the house. And I may not enjoy the snow, or cleaning up the puddles, or running the dryer twenty times a day, but I love that look of joy and amazement on his face, so it will all be worth it.
Happy Snow Day, everyone.
1 comment:
For once it is nice to have someone else getting snow rather than those of us in the Frozen Northeast Ohio. We are GLAD to share.
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