The Winter of Our Discontent

All the snow has almost melted. You can tell I don’t live in the Boston area because their snow is never going to melt. But here in South Carolina, it’s almost all gone. Staring out the window, I watch the small patch in the yard grow ever smaller as I listen to the trickle of the melted snow gurgle down the gutters. And you know, I don’t really care. We were supposed to get a school closing four to seven inches. We ended up with a measly inch and a half of wet slushy snow and temperatures well above freezing. I bet your kids are disappointed, aren't they?

Snow days aren’t like they were when my kids were little. I remember us getting all excited and having a serious plan about how to tackle a snow day. We made sure we had hot cocoa and movies and popcorn and board games or puzzles. We would be up and out the door by eight at the latest to tromp around in the yard, making pathetic lumpy snowmen or dragging the kids around in a laundry basket with a jump rope looped through the handle. We would stay outside until our fingers and toes burned from the cold wetness, then come inside and unbundle, hanging all the wet things on a drying rack my husband would set up by the door. If we were lucky, there would be a nap, but if not, there was always that movie to provide some down time before a second round of outdoor play would begin.

We don’t get significant amounts of snow where we live so we never invested in a good sled. We did break down and get a plastic snow disc, which was perfect for the gentle slope of the driveway and even the less than gentle hill near our neighbor’s house. We broke it last year, and none of us remembered that we needed to replace it.

Why is that? Well, now that our kids are officially teenagers, they don’t really care so much about rushing outside to play in the snow. One of my daughters spent the night at a friend’s house, while the other one slept in so long that the snow was all slush by the time she even opened her bedroom door. She decided that starting her homework was more important than going outside to look at puddles of melted snow. She also decided that staying in the same sweatpants she slept in sounded better than bundling up and getting wet. She did have a cup of hot cocoa, but truthfully, she didn’t earn it. I didn’t even offer to make her snow cream. And as quickly as the snow melted, so did the mild excitement, as the reality of another school day loomed on the horizon. Mostly, she felt cheated out of an extra-long weekend.

I made turkey chili in the crock pot. I did some laundry. I read a little of my book. It wasn’t even noon yet and I finished all the things I had planned to do.

My husband debated about opening his office while he played on his laptop, iPad, and phone simultaneously. In the background, the television blared the jarring sounds of CNBC. We all silently thanked the power for staying on, praised the internet for functioning, blessed our neighbors for not hogging the bandwidth.

Here is a conversation that we just had:

Me, walking into the family room: Whoa, did you fart?

My husband: No, I didn’t fart.

Me: It smells horrible in here. Are you sure you didn’t fart?

My husband: I would know if I farted, and I didn't. Maybe you farted.

Me: How could I have farted? I was upstairs folding laundry.

My husband: Well, I didn’t fart.

Me, silent judgment.

My husband: It’s probably the chili.

I only mention this conversation because my daughter, who was upstairs in her room doing her homework, yelled at us for arguing about who farted.


This is what happens when a family sits inside all day and doesn’t venture out to play in the snow.

Only one of us made it outside to stick a foot in the melting snow, and it was the indoor cat. We have a tradition of tossing her in the yard. It is for her own enrichment and does not warrant a call to Animal Control. I like to think of her as Puxatawney Phil. If she runs back in the house, we will have six more weeks of winter. And if she just doesn’t care for the snow, then spring is just around the corner. As usual, she hated it and us for continuing this senseless tradition.

 

If you still have young kids who like to play in the snow, be sure to join them. Have fun. I can’t very well go outside alone and play in the snow because that would be weird. My kids would make a vine of me and post it on their Instagram page, and my neighbors would drive by and wonder, yet again I’m sure, about the status of my mental health. It just isn't fun by myself.

I hate to be one of those moms who tells other moms to enjoy that time with their young kids because it is so fleeting. It’s true, but I refuse to say it. My teens would rather go back to bed or go out to Target than go in the yard. No one wants to snuggle up and watch a movie. They rather hide in their rooms and play on their phones. And in a few years, they will be at college playing drinking games or some other such inappropriate activity, and I will be lonely and worried about slipping and breaking a bone.

And seriously, we are all just ready for spring.