I'm still just a wee lassie inside. A spark ignites in my spirit when I see the fluffy white stuff fall from the sky like shreds of cotton candy dancing on the breath of angels. Ahhhh.
I cherish the days I awake and peer out my window to find that God has painted a snowscape in my back yard.
It makes me want to just open that window right up and dive on in with my mouth open.
I'm not the only one.
The child in me watches the weather forecast with excited anticipation when it warns me of an approaching winter storm. I have visions of snow angels, icicles and hot cocoa.
The child in me watches the weather forecast with excited anticipation when it warns me of an approaching winter storm. I have visions of snow angels, icicles and hot cocoa.
But the mom of six in me braces herself for a day where any hope of productivity is shoved aside for a day of seemingly unending putting on and taking off of snow gear and clearing the floor of coats, boots and melted snow.
It goes something like this:
Child number 3: "Can I go play outside in the snow?"
Me: "Sure. Find your boots and coat and hat and gloves and snow pants and I'll help you put them on"
Child number 3 a few minutes later: "I could only find one glove and one boot and no hat and I don't like the brown snow pants, I want the pink ones but I can't find them"
Child number 3: "Can I go play outside in the snow?"
Me: "Sure. Find your boots and coat and hat and gloves and snow pants and I'll help you put them on"
Child number 3 a few minutes later: "I could only find one glove and one boot and no hat and I don't like the brown snow pants, I want the pink ones but I can't find them"
I spend 5 minutes grunting and chucking boots and snow gear all around the shoe closet until I finally find all the required items. Then I wrestle with a wriggly child to put on all items. I lean back against the wall and sigh as my task is complete and child number 3 looks fit to face the unwelcoming elements of Nebraskan winter.
But child number 3 doesn't want to go out alone. She asks child number 4 to join her.
I repeat the stages above of looking out all the gear and putting on all the gear.
I repeat the stages above of looking out all the gear and putting on all the gear.
Children 3 and 4 go out to play in the snow.
Children 1 and 2 think it looks like a lot of fun so they ask to join. I say yes, but can you please put on your own gear. They agree. But a couple minutes later the story becomes, "I can't find my snow pants.", "Where's my other boot?", "My zipper is stuck" etc etc. Before you know it, I'm up to my elbows in the dreaded shoe cupboard again, sweating it out, throwing rejected footwear aside where it accidentally falls into piles of melting snow which has been trampled in by children 3 and 4 who have decided it was too cold outside and they don't want to play afterall.
Child 5 wants to fit in, so even though he's not going out to play, he still wants all his gear on.
So into the shoe cupboard again I dive.
But he looks so cute, it's worth it.
By this time, children 1 and 2 are playing outside and it looks so temptingly fun to children 3 and 4 who watch the scene out the window from the warmth of the indoors, that it causes them to forget the harshness of the bitter wind chills against their young tender skin, and they decide they want to give it another go after all.
So back on with the snow gear, boot by boot, glove by glove. And of course, dressing one child's hand in a glove is an epic adventure in itself, because the tiny fingers are ever reluctant to go into their designated space, so it always takes multiple attempts with children whining and me sighing all the while. I finally get all twenty fingers in their places, four heels pushed all the way down to the soles of the boots, four sweater sleeves pulled back down to the wrists after riding up arms during the putting on of coats - just in time for children 1 and 2 to come inside for a break. Leaving a trail of melting snow, discarded hats and dropped coats in their wake.
So back on with the snow gear, boot by boot, glove by glove. And of course, dressing one child's hand in a glove is an epic adventure in itself, because the tiny fingers are ever reluctant to go into their designated space, so it always takes multiple attempts with children whining and me sighing all the while. I finally get all twenty fingers in their places, four heels pushed all the way down to the soles of the boots, four sweater sleeves pulled back down to the wrists after riding up arms during the putting on of coats - just in time for children 1 and 2 to come inside for a break. Leaving a trail of melting snow, discarded hats and dropped coats in their wake.
Meanwhile, child number 6 continues to just be adorable (if messy).
Oh well, enough blogging. It's time to make lunch, clear up some more snow which has been trampled in while I typed this, then probably spend another half hour getting the kids dressed up for another 5 minute excursion in the snow. But they'll remember it all fondly, and that's the point (I remind myself).
