Photo: If the boys had been actually looking at me (like I asked them to ten million times!), this photo would have been a mighty strong candidate for this year’s Christmas card. The Husband has been begging for a snow photo instead of a Fall Photo. Personally, I prefer the reds and the golds to the stark white of snowy snow days. I’ll get another chance to take a good one next week, seeing as yet another Nor’easter is due to come up here. (Oh my Lord, someone please save me with a Florida vacation!)
I learned a lot from Nor’easter Number One and Nor’easter Number Two. For this week’s Nor’easter (that’d be Nor’easter Number Three for ya’ll playing at home), I got all of my work done early so that way there would be no hard feelings about the division of labor between me and The Husband. I got real clay (not that crayola weird stuff) so we could make pinch pots together. I prayed on the power so we could snuggle up for a movie. I even bought ice cream and whipped cream and baked brownies the night before (admittedly, these comforts were mostly for me… with nominal plans of sharing). I told the boys to sleep in, promising them breakfast tacos in the morning if they did so. It was a good plan.
And it was a plan that we stuck to. The Husband’s office officially closed, so he didn’t have to telecommute. He puttered around the house writing schematics and plans for one of the projects we are hoping to get to. The boys and I went through my check-list of entertaining things to do. The creative pursuits were the best part. I finally finished that (one) sock (the second one is on the needles now!) and the boys helped me make a little fox!
We all eventually ended up snuggled together watching Voltron. It all just sorta worked out.
When The Husband got up on Wednesday and danced off to work, and the boys stayed in for a second snow day, I felt less of a pang of jealousy. No looming deadlines (I mean, I have them, but they aren’t immediate), and no real need to sit at this computer all day gave me the room I needed to relax and take part in the day. I wrote my blog post, sent a few emails, but that was it. It was, fine. Not perfect or ideal, but it was good enough.
My Quiet Thoughts have to do with the good-enoughness of life sometimes. These many snow days (two last week, two this week) are not ideal, but they are what they are. New Englanders say that a lot: “It is what it is.” They always say this with a shrug. Sometimes that drives me crazy. This week, I’m not sure if I’ve quite gotten the hang of it, but at least I can say I finally understand. The snow is the snow. Snow days are snow days. It is what it is.
I’m not a perfect mom. Especially in the winter, when it’s hard to get momentum. As the boys get older, with no mid-day nap, plenty of fighting and teasing, and the increasing demand for screen time, this season feels like one long test of patience. I celebrate this week of “enough” because it feels like the plans and effort before the storm made for smoother sailing (thanks to good luck with the power!) during it. It doesn’t always come together. Lord knows, with Nor’easter Number Four being advertised and prepared for, I could write a post next week that’s in all caps and post a picture with my hair totally torn out. Today’s calm is a gift that I’m grateful for. This week’s easy going is a blessing.
I also celebrate you this week, Dear Reader. Thank you for being patient with me on Monday. I was preparing for the snow, then fell asleep on the couch with the computer in my lap, a post half-written. The Husband shut down my computer and pushed me up the stairs. Hopefully I’ll better manage my time and energy next week!
It is a blustery, freezing cold Friday here in Massachusetts. The sun is stronger, but the snowpack and the wind makes the air cold enough to bite. It’s not the kind of cold that goes straight to the bones. It’s meaner, with a sting that mitigates any comfort from the genuinely warm rays of sunlight. Our bunny rabbit made an appearance this morning, to the surprise and wonder of the whole family. He hopped to the barn and back to his winter burrow under my neighbor’s tree without menace from the fox or the hawk. Lucky, indeed! As for our fox, Ursa Major spotted him before the storm. He’s been quite active this week, too. I hope that we’ll earn ourselves a kit sighting when spring is truly in bloom!
It’s never too cold for wishes, Dear Reader. It’s never too snowy, either. This weekend, I miss you ease. May one burden lift off of your shoulders this weekend, Dear Reader, thanks to your doing or the good deeds of a loving person. We all need a little relief right now, Dear Reader, in some way or another. I wish you the opportunity to lift someone’s burden away this weekend, Dear Reader. Perform a good deed, or be brave and make a difficult phone call, or offer comfort to a stranger. Do something the takes the pressure off of someone’s shoulder. I wish you really good tea. Seriously! I’ve been drinking a lot of it lately. I wish you the warmth in your hands, the aroma in your nostrils, the soothing on your throat, the growth of comfort that seems to come over the entire body. If you are feeling adventurous, Taproot Magazine’s Hearth issue has recipes for DIY tea blends and even mulling wine! I wish you time with a good book (I’m going to write about what is on my nightstand next week), a fun small project, or just the sweetness of silence this weekend. I wish you a held hand, a kiss on the cheek, the delight of a secret whispered in your ear. Indulge in touch this weekend, Dear Reader. Let a hug linger. Let a head rest on your shoulder.
I wish you, in a moment alone, a little time with yourself. Look yourself over in the mirror and see someone full and beautiful. See yourself and be satisfied, knowing that who are are, right now, is enough. You are enough, Dear Reader. Delight in your infinite beauty, then walk out into the world with your head held high. You are loved. What you do in this world matters. You are the light in the darkness for more people than you could possibly know.
Until Monday, my Dear Reader, take care.