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Dear Winter,
I'm sorry to do this so publicly. I would have sent you a letter, but my mailbox is literally buried in a snow bank in my front yard. I no longer trust it as a reliable way of delivering communication.
But considering that is mostly your fault, I'm putting this out there on the big ole world wide web for all of the world to see.
We are through. It is over. I am breaking up with you.
What we had was great; it really was. It was all sweetly falling fluffy snowflakes and catching them on my tongue and sipping hot cocoa while sitting by the fire with a great book. I'll treasure those moments. But, if we're honest, if we're both really, really honest, this thing we've had going on has run it's course. It's time for both of us to move on.
It's not you, it's me.
I've grown. I've changed. I'm a different person than I was 3 long, cold, harsh months ago. I want to see new things -- like the grass in my front yard and the grill on my deck -- and experience new things -- like the sun burning my cheeks instead of the crazy intense 23 degrees below zero windchill. I just need more.
Initially, you were great with my kids.
You invited them to play outside, and entertained them for hours with powdery, fun, clean, fresh white snow. You were warm (relatively speaking) and caring towards them, and along with pink cheeks and cold noses, you sent fluffy white snowflakes cascading down from the sky to land on their sweet little eyelashes.
But all that has changed. Now you are simply cold and harsh. You keep them cooped up inside the house all day. You won't even let them go to school for days on end. I think a truancy officer may be visiting you if you don't let up soon.
We've grown apart.
It's like we're from different worlds now. You keep bringing this whole "polar vertex" thing from the North into the mix, while I'm just trying to get as far South as I can. The Caribbean, Mexico, Florida...I'm so over you, I'd even settle for Southern Indiana. We're just headed in different directions.
You are controlling and demanding and you just won't back down or listen to reason.
Done. Over. Finished.
If you really want to know, yes, there is someone else. I just couldn't help myself. His name is Spring. We haven't met face to face yet. We've just been chatting here and there, but I think we have a lot more in common than you and I ever did...biking, sunshine, baseball...I could go on, but I don't want to rub it in. Although if I'm honest, he may just end up being more of a rebound guy. His brother, Summer, is a real hottie. Literally. More of an ice cream, flip flops, beach guy. I've already got my eye on him...
Truth be told, I'd like to say that we are never, ever, ever getting back to together, but we both know that is not true. Next year, I'll come crawling back. Begging for you even. Christmas Eve will roll around, and I'll be pleading with you to come back to me, and toss just a few flakes my way.
I'm beginning to think this is a very dysfunctional relationship we have.
So anyway, for now, I'm kicking you to the curb...that is, if I can ever again find the curb. Or my sidewalk. Or my mailbox.
When you are enduring a winter with no end in sight, You Are a Good Mom.
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You could say we've had a little bit of snow around here lately...
Yup, just a touch.
And when that much snow combines with windchill in the negative double digits -- (Let that sink in for a minute. Negative. Double. Digits.) -- you're bound to have a snow day. Or two. Or three.
And all those snow days can lead to this...
That would be an entire Christmas party for 26 kindergartners, complete with the class gift of 2 sets of Legos for the teacher, packed, waiting and ready to go. Both the bag and package are packed and ready to go for my son's class party tomorrow, just as they were packed and ready to go 22 days ago. The party has now been scheduled, re-scheduled and re-rescheduled for tomorrow. Here's hoping the bag actually gets unpacked and the package actually gets opened. Although based on the track record to this point, there is a high percentage there will now be a random snow storm, crazy flooding, or an unexplainable power outage at my son's school tomorrow. Stay tuned...
To sum up all that snow day business, my son had a snow day the Friday before Christmas break, as well as the Monday and Tuesday following Christmas break. I'm not yet sure how I'm going to explain to him for the rest of his educational career that no, he does not actually get nearly 3 weeks off from school at Christmas.
All those snow days ended up being both a blessing and a curse. By the middle of the day Monday, I was about pulling my hair out, as were both of my kids. They were sick of me, sick of each other, and most of all, sick of being stuck inside. By the time my son was headed back to school on Wednesday, I must admit, I felt a slight feeling of...well...relief!
But then a strange thing happened. Wednesday morning came, and I packed my son up and sent him off to school. A glorious day of no sibling fighting, getting back into routine, and hopes of finding the carpet in my son's bedroom under all those pieces. Oh happy day!
Except it wasn't. When I went to wake my son up in the morning, I found myself climbing under the covers with him. I wanted to snuggle him for just a few extra minutes. As he ate breakfast, I found myself listening a little more and talking a little less. As I watched him waddle out to the bus stop in his layers and layers of winter gear, I missed him already. The day before, I was counting the hours until school would be back in session. At that moment, I was wishing for them back.
Fear not...the day did have some quite happy moments, like getting to the grocery store, putting some Christmas toys away, and enjoying some one-on-one time with my daughter. But I did find myself missing my son throughout the day. I had forgotten how nice it was to have him around all day. To hear his laugh, to see the goofy faces he makes, to just know he's there, even if he's playing in another room. I think my daughter found herself in the same situation, as she asked me "Where's my brother?" no less than 5 times that day.
It seems like a lot of parenting ends up feeling like that for me...ping ponging back and forth between losing my mind and in a weird twist of events, actually finding myself missing the fact that I'm no longer losing my mind. Being exhausted and praying for bedtime, but then missing their sweet little sleeping faces; counting down the days until I get a night out, and then counting down the minutes until I get to pick them up from my mom's the next morning; hoping to survive a snow day trapped inside, and then missing my son when he's off to school the next day.
Now, if I can just get that Christmas party under my belt...
Whether snow days are your friend, your foe, or both, You Are a Good Mom.
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