Snow Birds and Snow Babes

My kids have personalities as different as can be. But nowhere does it show itself as clearly as it does in their reaction to the weather. Doodles, who claimed that his favorite thing about the trip to Miami Beach was "the hotness," constantly bemoans the fact that we live in New England instead of Florida. The minute the temperature drops, the boy becomes a couch potato, piling up a stack of books, planting himself in front of the fireplace, and settling in for the day.

The girl has the opposite reaction. She wakes up. "Snow? Can I shovel!" She's the first one in her snow pants and ready to play outside. This morning as I attempted to shovel us out--attempted because it was one of those wet, heavy snows that doesn't want to cooperate with the shovel--she proclaimed, "Do you know what my favorite season is? It's winter!" And then she attempted to make a snow slide out of the mounds being shoveled.

I want to buy all of us snow shoes. Pie says, "Can we go today?" I tell her, "I haven't bought them yet!" Doodles protests, "I don't want snow shoes. It's just walking in the snow with tennis rackets on your feet. And I hate walking."

My sun worshiper and my snow baby. And never the 'twain shall meet.

Snow Day

We all react to the snow in different ways. While a Sunday snow day is not a terrible thing, I was a bit disappointed because I had been looking forward to a few weekend activities that had to be reshuffled. The Tweedle Twirp was going to come visit, but that got canceled, which also means we were no shows at our monthly game night last night since we were suddenly babysitter-less. Doodles had a cub scout event today that I thought was going to be fun and interesting.

But my kids? My kids are thrilled. Doodles spent the entire day in his pajamas, playing with new Hanukkah presents. When I went out to shovel, Pie eagerly came along, and did "modern dance in the snow." She shoveled for a minute or two with me, and then promptly went across the street to help Tab shovel her walk.

Me, I've used the day to write about a zillion holiday cards (and yet, I'm still not done!). My apologies to those whose last names begin after the letter L; my handwriting completely deteriorated by that point. I also packaged the last of the boxes to be mailed and doing a little last holiday baking (well, not quite last, but I can dream). I also decided to take down the Hanukkah decorations. A little odd, considering most of the country is still putting up their decorations, but our holiday is over and I never like those things to linger. I left up all the lights and holiday cards, but the menorahs, the dreidel pictures, the Little People Hanukkah toy, the menorah tidbit tray, and all the little Hanukkah knickknacks returned to that great storage in the attic. The kids have spent the entire afternoon glued to the TV, which once in a while, is fine by me (Doodles said, "It's like when we have a fever and we can watch all we want!"). Yesterday was a hectic day--hockey and then to a friends to make ornaments for her tree and then my in-laws came to celebrate Hanukkah with us. So a rest day is well deserved.

Santa was at hockey, and both my kids wanted to meet him. Santa made chit chat with Doodles first. Asked if he'd been a good boy. If he'll keep being a good boy. Told him that he (Santa) also ice skated up at the North Pole. And then he asked Doodles what he wanted for Christmas. Doodles merely said, "We don't celebrate Christmas." No elaboration. I think he threw Santa for a loop, but Santa finally realized what was going on and said, "That's fine!" By the time Pie got off the ice to meet him, Santa was a little more prepared for her response.

The one unfortunate about the snow is that it cleared up enough for Adam to be able to get out to head to the airport. He's off to London for a few days, which always makes me sad. Hanukkah over; the short, dark days; the oppression of the snow; Adam's trip overseas--this time of year always conspires to make me blue.

But soon enough it will be Christmas, which is a very special day in our house, because that is the day that Santa brings us sun. One of the best parts of being Jewish is being able to fly out on Christmas day for warmer climes.

So now, I just need to plug through the next few days. The light at the end of the tunnel is spa day. I just need to focus on spa day.... Ahhhhh....

Pass the Bottle

I'm here, I'm here. I've got a whole bunch of saved drafts that I've abandoned because they're outdated. I'm feeling a bit over my head right now. I've got a suitcase that needs to be unpacked just so I can repack it, Adam's harassing me to look at closet layouts, I have a program at the synagogue that I'm running next week, I have to buy booster seats for my kids for the tour bus, the apartment has to be packed, our trip has to be packed, my son needs 18 valentines for his class, I have homework for my Hebrew class, we haven't yet picked out tile for the back splash, the landlord is coming by on Tuesday and the apartment is disgusting, and I'm doing the only reasonable thing I could be doing right now: pouring myself a glass of wine, getting teary eyed over Chesley Sullenberger and his crew standing on the field of the Super Bowl, and baking the Ultimate Chocolate Chip Cookies, courtesy of Foodie at Fifteen. So here's a brief hodgepodge of the saved drafts in Blogger.

1) As most of the Northeast did, we had a snow day last Wednesday. For once, I didn't dread it. I had no work to do, the kids get along well, and it was, well, snowy out. Because I had a 5:30 a.m. boot camp class, I was a bit tired, so I set the kids up with salmonella-free chocolate peanut butter sandwiches and a stack of Legos. I lay on the couch, and took a nap. They actually let me doze, on and off, for about an hour. We read some books. I relaxed. They played on their own. It only went awry when we had a playdate that we had scheduled the previous week. I wanted the kids to get together, because they don't know each other well (Pie is at the same school as the younger boy and she seems very fond of him), and we'll all be going to Israel together. This family has a four-year-old boy, a six-year-old boy, and a nine-year-old girl. Perfect right?

Almost perfect. Because I don't drive in snow. I just don't do it. I refuse. I was about to call and cancel the playdate when I decided to play with Google Maps new feature, plotting out walking times/distances. Not too far. .8 miles. 16 minutes. Doable right? "Hey, guys! We're going on an adventure! We're going to walk to our playdate!"

Doodles immediately started groaning. "I don't want to walk! I hate walking!" But Pie, in her naivete, was game. "An adventure! We're going on an adventure!" She bravely kept this up for the first 15 minutes, when, with bright pink cheeks and the wind whipping, and snow drifts up to her knees, said, "I don't like this!"

The 16-minute walk miraculously only took 45 minutes. Did I mention that this playdate was .8 miles... up a hill? On mostly unplowed sidewalks? And death-defying drivers careening on the streets? In snow that turned to freezing rain? I knew I had made a bad mistake with this walk, but it was too late to turn around; we were closer to the playdate's house. Oh, the false cheer I kept up. "You guys are doing great! You're doing so awesome! What tremendous adventurers you are! Do you guys know what adventurers get when they get home? Hot chocolate! With marshmallows. So many marshmallows. I think we'll build you a pyramid of marshmallows! And TV! Adventurers get lots of TV. Lots and lots." Guilt gets you nothing but hot chocolate and TV.

We made it. Soaking wet and chilled to the bone, we made it. We enter the house and I try fruitlessly to disrobe us without spewing water and ice everywhere. We come into the house and Pie, uncharacteristically, becomes clingy. She had been anxious to play with the boy, asking all week when the playdate was, so I didn't understand her behavior. Doodles got shy and the boy his age went off on his own. I sat down to have a cup of tea and to chat with the mom, and Pie climbed up into my lap.

"Go play!" I urged her. "You love playdates!"

Pie shook her head, buried her face in my shoulder... and fell asleep. And I mean asleep. I mean snoring you could hear across the room asleep. Doodles ended up playing with the younger boy and I ended up quickly calling Adam (who was working at Panera in town, given that the apartment is too small for him to work from home) to come pick us up.

At home, Pie woke up. And why wouldn't she? She got hot chocolate. With a pyramid of mini marshmallows. And an overdose of TV.

2) Let's talk about clothes. Or lack thereof. Because my daughter is a nudist in a way I don't ever recall my son being. The minute she walks into the apartment, she disappears into another room. And moments later, out she comes, sans clothes. She spends the entire afternoon (or morning or evening) naked. She dances. She plays. She colors. Naked. We do insist that underwear goes on for eating, as hands go all over the place, but other than that, the girl is naked. All the time. If you're ever wondering what Pie is up to? Now you know. She's naked.

Digression: Does the ad for SoBe Lifewater, with all the guys in white shirts, kind of remind you of the sperm scene in Everything You Wanted to Know About Sex *But Were Afraid to Ask?

3) Doodles has become a royal pain in the a**. No other way to describe it. He's been moody, refusing to listen, negative on everything, greedy as all get out, and impossible to live with. Nothing funny here. Just me at my wit's end with my normally adorable, fun-loving, cuddly son.

Bruce is on. You no longer have my attention. Gotta go, 'cuz I was born to run....

Enter Winter

It's been a fun, crazy week, with time in Doodles' classroom, Adam's office party, which--surprisingly--was really fun, a Hanukkah singalong at Pie's school (preschool mosh pit! That girl loves to dance!), a night of cooking class, playdates, and all sorts of holiday prep goodness, including lots of baking, crafting (and I've become addicted to craft blogs lately--oh the ideas I have for next year!), and card writing. And then... then it all came to an end. Because...

...the snow has started. No quiet whispers into winter; it came in shouting its presence. Two days before the official beginning, we were pelted with snow. Fierce, fierce snow. Running on Friday morning, the sunrise was amazing, a fiery feast of reds in the sky, but then I remembered "Red skies at night, sailors delight; red skies at morning, sailor's warning." True enough in this case. I felt bad for Doodles who had a field trip canceled on Friday. Everyone had early releases in anticipation of the storm. I ran with my kids to the supermarket, along with the rest of the world and stocked up on supplies. Shabbat dinner for Friday. Snacks for Saturday. Milk for hot chocolate. Everything we needed. Everything. Oh, wait, except the toilet paper. I forgot the toilet paper. Oops!

That night the kids couldn't wait to get out in the snow, so I bundled them up Friday evening to get their snow groove on. Nothing like the first trying on of winter boots to realize that they no longer fit. Doodles is a good size larger than his boot, but we managed to sausage his foot in. That night, we got about eight inches of snow, which would have been fine if that had been it.

Saturday morning I stupidly decided not to do my run, to save it for Sunday. Which meant, obviously, that Sunday was much worse. However, not knowing that, I had a lovely walk with Pie on the bike path so we could walk to Walgreens for toilet paper and new Color Wonder books. I did a bit of snow shoveling to unbury our cars. I got my hair done. Doodles got a new hockey hair cut so his hair no longer hurts his face. And then we stupidly decided--on a snowy day, the last weekend before Christmas--to brave L.L. Bean to get Doodles some new boots. What a freakin' nightmare. And no boots in his size. So he's going to have to suffer a bit longer. But overall it was a relaxing day, with all of us watching A Christmas Story (well, not completely relaxing--the bully in the movie terrified the kids). A lovely snow day.

And then there was today. One snow day too many. The snow started up again. And again. And again. Religious school canceled. Sleep didn't happen last night as the toddler in the next apartment over is sick, and was up every hour from 3:15 till wake up time. I've got just over a month till I run Miami with my cousin, and I haven't gotten enough mileage in. So in the sleet/snow/freezing rain, in the sub-freezing temperatures, a savage wind upon me, on the snow that feels like sand, except where it feels like ice, I managed to run 18 miles (it wasn't quite uphill both ways, barefoot, but it was close). I'm cold. I'm beat. I'm tired. The kids want to go outside. I throw on a dry shirt. We head outside. Pie, in the hallway, sniffs her nose.

"Mommy, there's something stinky in here!"

"I don't smell anything, Pie."

Pie puts on her biggest grin. "Mommy!" she says. "I think it's you! You're stinky!" Way to win points, Pie.

Tonight, the first night of Hanukkah, we went to friends' for dinner. It was truly lovely, but I was so scared driving there and back. I was as tense as could be. Normally I'm the driver, but these days, it's all Adam, because I refuse to drive in the snow. Trying to get out of our friends' driveway at the end of the evening just about did me in, as our wheels spun and our car fishtailed. I just closed my eyes and Adam did a little digging and a little gunning and finally got us out. But, man, does that terrify me.

Part of me is really hoping school isn't canceled tomorrow as it's Pie's last day before the winter break and I'm supposed to go into Doodles's classroom to make latkes with them, but part of me is terrified to go out there--it's supposed to turn to rain soon, which means it'll be a sheet of ice out there--so part of me hopes it's canceled so we can stay inside the entire day. Hey, the kids got some presents tonight--they've got stuff to play with. And I'm not above a day of PBS Sprout, if that's what's called for.

Meanwhile, as hard as it is to imagine, I'm supposed to go to our storage this week to pull out our summer clothes for our annual pilgrimage to Miami. I can't fathom being ready. I can't fathom getting our car out of here. I can't fathom ever being out of this tiny apartment and back in our house (although we're giving our 60 day notice on the apartment this week). I can't fathom a place that isn't buried in snow. I can't fathom that we've been here since it was shorts weather. I can't fathom. Period. I'm going to bury myself in bed. Maybe tomorrow I'll wake up with a fresh dose of fathom.