Nothing Like a Snow Day to Mess Up a Plan

Of course, I no sooner realize how I need to work on getting my life organized than we finally get snow. And there's nothing to put the skids on a regular life for everyone like snow in the South.

Not a lot of snow, mind you, only an inch or so, but it's enough to seriously derail pretty much everything. Especially when the temperature takes a tumble to the teens and suddenly there are three generations snowed in at my house.

What started out feeling like an adventure to the little ones began feeling like a bad dream when they were asked to sleep at Ma's house Tuesday. Seriously, you'd think they had never spent time here let alone slept. No, they don't overnight typically (the last time was when E3 was born and 1 and 2 were here nearly a year ago), but Mom was here and it is a familiar place.

Wednesday morning we were all suffering from variations of sleep deprivation, including my three house dogs who for some reason felt it was their duty to patrol and keep tabs on all the sleepers through the night.

Heck, the snow wasn't even pretty falling and didn't even amount to enough to enjoy for a snowman, even if it were significantly warmer. Still, we made the best of it. Tuesday, while Mom was sending me messages about the rapidly deteriorating road conditions -- she is a 911 dispatcher -- the baby went to bed and the girls and I bundled up in a gazillion layers and went outside.

The girls didn't have really high expectations for the snow since I don't think we've had a significant snowfall since the oldest was born, so the scrawny amount that accumulated first on the roads and driveway was enough to be entertaining.

They were delighted to follow bird tracks in the snow and examine the trails left by the yard dogs making their morning rounds. The snow was crunchy under foot and I was surprised to find it was so sticky that it made a decent snowball, but not nearly as surprised as they were the first time I pelted them. Of course, since they couldn't master snowballs, I wound up making balls that they used to pelt me -- well, try to pelt me.

E1, ever eager to experience more, had to sample the snow while little sis just got cold and snotty nosed. Still, we spent nearly an hour in the chilly temps and falling flakes before determining it was time to get indoors and thaw out. Well, that and it was nap time as well. Before going in, I let them try snow angels, although the snow wasn't really deep enough for a good impression. E1 declared they had made snow "whirlies" instead because their bodies and heads weren't visible.

It turned out not to matter a whole lot, since the snow kept falling and soon snow angels, bird and dog tracks, and any hopes of getting home for the night were lost.

Before we go further, I am a competent snow driver and have an SUV. However, after manning the 911 consoles for the afternoon, their mother wasn't eager to have them out on the roads. Plus, because of her role at the 911 center, she could get an emergency ride home or to my house without having to brave the elements in her mini-van. It was just safer all around for them to stay at my house, which only about three miles from work.

Safer, but not necessarily saner.

First of all, although our little house has three bedrooms and two baths, they aren't all functional as such. The master bedroom has become the children's playroom and the attached bath no longer has a usable tub (not an issue this time). The smallest bedroom has my husband's computer area, our Bowflex and a recumbent bike. The futon that once took a big chunk of the playroom got reassigned to storage two weeks ago due to lack of use. We just aren't set up to sleep extra people.

Still, we made the best of the evening.

After dinner, we made snowcream, scooping clean snow from the back porch where we hadn't been stomping around all day. Strangely, I had never made or eaten it as far as I know (I must have been a really deprived child but didn't know it.)

The weirdness started when Mom arrived and the girls realized they were not going home as usual. Despite the futon mattress on the floor in the playroom for 1 and 2, and baby's normal pack-n-play relocated to the smallest room, the evening went downhill quick. Only baby was happy with the change in schedule and went right off to sleep. E2 quietly fought it. E1 threw all variety of fits, including a panic attack because she wasn't at home with Mommy and Daddy...nevermind that Mommy was closer than at night at home. Mommy got to sleep on the sofa where she could hear all her girls and be harassed by my dogs who made regular use of the doggy door in our bedroom and were disturbed by the extra people in our house.

Morning was hectic. This blog, which I'm supposed to finish writing for the next morning before 9 a.m., is winding down at 12:34 p.m., although I did manage breakfast at a decent hour -- at least partially because I was fixing cereal and boiled eggs for the house guests.

Before Mommy left for work we had another snow outing, this time with a sled on the packed snow of the road. Once again, my deprived childhood comes to the front as I've never been sledding (not one of the things my dad allowed). We do, however, have a sled as a souvenir of my husband's childhood, so we put it to work on a small hill near the house. The big hill further away seemed too intimidating with preschoolers and a novice driver. It was also out of sight of the house, where baby was napping, so unnacceptable. (Still, I would love to try it after finally getting the hang of the sled, so look out next time!)

So, just as it seems some routine might help, I throw routine to the wind. But then again, I guess that's what snow days, no matter what your age or issues, are made for. And maybe, after all, that's OK, too.

Finding the Road Back Begins With Taking Steps

Yesterday I made 12 dogs very happy.

I slipped on my old Reeboks, not the new ones that are still decent to wear out, the grungy ones with the soles coming off; dug my handmade fingerless gloves out of the storage bench; grabbed a toboggan someone gave my husband when he worked at the golf course; put Pa Booker's old orange windbreaker on over my sweatshirt and stepped out the door.

It doesn't take a lot to make dogs happy.

As soon as I got the shoes and windbreaker out, my little house dogs knew there was a walk in the works, although they could only hope they would be included. Their hopes were a bit dampened when I went out the door without them, but their turn eventually came.

My yard dogs, Rebel and Macy, were over the moon immediately. They are used to traveling up and down our long, dead end road with me a couple of times a morning. Lately, however, they've had to make the rounds of the neighbors' houses on their own. And while they've been free to pursue the neighbor's cats and bits of old deer carcasses without me, they've missed the companionship of our walks.

Following through on the promise I made myself earlier in the morning, I pulled out leashes and rounded up dogs until everyone who was seriously interested in a walk had enjoyed one. One group of three larger dogs making a brisk trip down the road and one group of seven small ones wandering at a more leisurely pace. Rebel and Macy were on my heels both times, which is where they've longed to be for five long weeks.

It was a welcome return to a once daily routine that I let slip in early December when I came down with my first cold of the season. I was still in cold recovery mode when Ethan died -- in fact I had stayed home from church that morning because it was such miserable weather and I felt so bad.

Although walking with dogs had been a combination of meditation, therapy, and cardio exercise for years, it fell from my routine as easily as cold rain falls from a heavy winter cloud. It was as hard to pick back up as that same drop of rain would be if one were trying to recover it.

I'd made a few attempts at walking the last few weeks, but only with the bigger dogs who were more eager to get out and move. Each time I would start out with the plan to walk the little dogs as well, but I'd decide I was too cold, or just not in the mood.

Yesterday, however, I followed through. The rhythm of our strides felt good and familiar to my bones, even when I was juggling a few less than cooperative little dogs. The climb up the steep grade at the end of the road, which I normally don't notice, was a stern reminder of how I had neglected my routine as I could feel the burn in my legs. The chill of the weak January sun was still a welcome light to my soul, just as the arch of the cloudless blue heavens spoke to me of depths I cannot imagine.

Although I've spent many a morning walk in prayer for my son, I didn't need to do that yesterday. Ethan no longer needs my prayers. Instead I spent both walks humming the tune to an upbeat song entitled "Gold" by Britt Nichole, which I don't even know but for some reason had stuck in my head. And I did allow myself to think of him, never actually walking with me but sometimes randomly running out to meet me and once taking time to make my picture with the dogs on a day much like yesterday. (Like Ethan, most of the dogs in that picture are gone now, yet it's the only time I've had someone make my picture with the dogs.)

When I finished the walk, I jumped into day 17 of the 30-day challenge hanging on my refrigerator. I was glad to see those muscles hadn't suffered the same fate as my underused walking legs, although I did have to go for two sets instead of doing them all at once.

No, I didn't book a salon appointment, or get my nails done (any of them), but I ended the day feeling victorious over a lot of the apathy that has consumed me for the last month.

The old routines felt like what they were, familiar old habits that help keep me centered and make me feel alive. They were things I need to do to be true to myself. They won't take the place of what I lost, but giving them up will only make me feel worse not better, and there is no need to punish myself or avoid the simple things that bring me joy.

Perhaps, in time, the morning walks will again be a comfortable communion with God and the world around me. I'll pick up the conversation again on more friendly terms, instead of the brokenhearted discourse I've lately shared. Perhaps as well as peace, I'll find some of the answers I seek in the quiet broken only by footfalls on asphalt and the jingle of a dog's tags.

At least I know I'll begin to find myself again.

A Change Will Do You Good

The last few days have been tough weatherwise. Unless you're lucky enough to live in some enviably sunny spot of the world, or are able to adequately entertain little people inside because you live in a gym or something, you'll know what I'm talking about. If not now, then at some point during the winter months.

I know there are probably people who are good parents and caregivers who don't take their children outside for running, screaming, and generally releasing of pent up energy, but I cannot imagine how. Especially with preschoolers. The bounce house, although a great rescue sometimes, isn't always up to the task for yet another day.

So despite the fact that Happy Meals are not the most nutritious dining option, and the toys in them any more are junk, sometimes you just have to bite the bullet and go to the McDonald's Play Place. Granted, I would try another option if there were one close by, but you go with what you've got.

It is beyond me why all the government funded, public recreation for children in my area has to 1)be outside or 2)involve a team sport. There is no such thing as an indoor playground, except for the one at McDonald's. Out of all the big, government buildings with large unused areas of space, no one has ever considered a bit of indoor recreation for the little people. What a waste.

So when I felt at my wit's end before my little people even arrived the other day, I called their mom and said let's meet at McDonald's. We all needed some play time.

Last winter we spent a lot of enjoyable Friday afternoons on the indoor playground. E2 was too small (she's still technically too young) to go through all of the different levels by herself. Since parents are allowed inside, although I can count on one finger the number of parents I've ever seen inside (and that was at a birthday party), we all played. I helped E2 up the steps and onto the different levels. We came down the slide like a bobsled team, with my legs as the sled. It was loads of fun for everyone.

I wasn't sure how it was going to play out with E3 joining the ranks, but I figured we'd cross that bridge when we came to it.

The bigger girls stormed the playground like a fortress in need of toppling. They had to be called back down the stairs to remove their boots and coats because they were just too eager to get going. Before baby and I had our things settled, E2 was popping out the end of the slide -- she'd grown taller over the summer and didn't need Ma's help.

After just a minute or two in the role of spectators, E3 and I decided to enter the fray. Ma got her workout for the day, let me tell you. E3 is weighing in at about 20 pounds, and I lugged her up the stairs like a mama chimp toting her baby. She was delighted with the views and the tunnels. The bigger girls crawled over and around her as they made their mad way around and around. Screaming was allowed, even encouraged, as long as it didn't get too out of hand.

The other children who came through while we were there initially gave me a funny look, but after our first meeting pretty much let it go. I was delighted that the girls remembered to ask the names of their playmates, and when the first little girl encountered the baby and knew her name, I figured they had introduced themselves as well.

We played for an hour before we took a potty break and had lunch. It was another hour before we loaded up and headed home. E3 was asleep in her car seat before I got her in the car and neither of the other two made it home awake, although both woke and then went back to sleep after we got home.

Other than a bit of ache in my shoulders (yes, I'm pretty sure it had to do with E3, because we made at least three trips through the playground, even though we mainly sat in the treehouse portion and played), even I felt better after the outing.

So once again I have to remind myself that the extra effort is worth it, not only for the sanity of little people, but for me. Sure, it would be easier and cheaper to stay home, but sometimes that just isn't the best choice. Like a lot of things in life, from socializing with friends to exercising, a little effort can carry a tremendous reward and make everyone involved feel better about life. Like my earlier discovery about having fun with adult friends, it shouldn't come as a surprise to me. (And yes, we've been socializing regularly with adults and enjoying it tremendously.)

Looks like, new little sister or not, to survive the winter we're going to have to resume some sort of outing schedule. Maybe the weather will allow us more options than McDonald's, but I think we'll take what we can get and have fun with it. I think that applies to more than just a Ma and three Es as well. Sometimes, a bit of change does everybody a lot of good.