Snow Day

It finally snowed and, of course, the kids are beyond excited to play in it.

I, personally, like the snow.  I’m not a typical New Englander who chooses to live here but then curses Mother Nature every time there’s wacky weather.  It’s, like, the one thing I don’t complain about.  (See!  There IS something…I knew we’d find it someday.)

I wish, however, that the snow had come on a weekend.  That way my husband would have to be the one to take the kids outside.  I tried to convince them to wait until Daddy got home, but the way they reacted to that suggestion, I may as well have told them they had to wait until they were 16. 

It’s not that I mind being out in the snow…I just mind GETTING READY to go out there. 

I think soldiers going into combat require less equipment than a two year old going out to play in the snow. 

Pants, shirts, sweatshirts, socks, extra socks, snow pants, hat, gloves, coats, boots….it’s never ending.  And it’s not like they just sit still and let you dress them.  God, no! They squirm around and you can’t even get a good grip to hold them still because their actual body is hidden beneath nineteen layers of clothing. 

And boots?  Honestly, the amount of effort required to put on a boot is ridiculous.

“Push, Carter.”

“I am pushing!”

“C’mon.  Help me out here!  Push…geez…PUSH! ”

“Ah!  Stop, my sock is wrinkled!  There something in there…take if off!  TAKE IT OFF!”

Then you have to take it off and the process starts all over again.  By this time you’re already exhausted and you haven’t even left the house yet.  I hope this is how it goes in other people’s homes; I’d really hate to think I’m the only parent suffering. 

Getting a kid in snow gear is bad enough, times two it’s insane.  Last winter when we were getting ready we would always dress Grant first…because then he couldn’t move and we were down to one kid again. 
I remember the first time I realized the effect snow clothes had on him:

“Hey, hun?  Grant fell over.  And he hasn’t moved…and I haven’t picked him up.  No, really, he literally hasn’t moved in 5 minutes.  Check his vitals, would ya?”

"No big deal, Ma.  I'll just chill here."

He had enough padding on him to soften the landing so it wasn’t like he wasn’t hurt.  He was just resigned to his fate and was taking it like a man.  Nice job, G. 

Thank God for my easy child because my other child was the background screaming about how he had an itch under his coat and was slamming his back against every conceivable surface in an effort to solve the problem. 

At that point I was about five seconds away from throwing him out into a snow bank naked in an effort to cure him of ever wanting to play in the snow again.  “There ya go, Cart.  This is snow.  It’s wet and cold…enjoying yourself yet?”

As if the sheer amount of clothing wasn’t enough, you also have to worry about putting it on in the right order.  You put that coat on before the mittens you are totally screwed!  That’s just a fact.

Ok, we’re dressed.  Let’s go!

Clearly the more time you spend dressing your children the less time they actually want to spend outside.  Half an hour of work equals half a minute of play. 

Of course the only thing they really want to do is throw snow at each other…and then bitch about it. 

“Grant threw snow at me!  It’s down my shirt!  It’s cold…it’s cold…it’s cooooooold!!!  My boot came off, my foot is WET!  I wanna go inside!”

Yup.  I called that one.  Glad I burned 8,000 calories putting all your gear on, thanks for the workout.

Snow play is a daddy thing.  All I really want to do is take a quick picture, go back inside, spike some hot chocolate and watch the rest of my family freeze their faces off. 

I don’t think that’s too much to ask.