I am not a winter person. I’m not much of a summer person either. I prefer the temperate weather of spring – yes, even with the rain – and fall (my favorite, but don’t tell the others).
I’m actually feeling a little uncomfortable even typing those words because I have always made it a bit of a personal rule to not discuss The Weather, in verbal discussions or on social media. Oh sure – I’ve made comments here and there, when necessary, or as it pertains to a weather-related subject, but I have always felt that there is no point in discussing the weather. It is not going to change. I was born in Canada and have lived here all of my life, and not once in those 43 years has it not snowed or not been cold in the winter. Not once has it not rained in the spring. Not once have we had a humidity-free summer. Never have I witnessed the leaves on the trees remaining green as fall slides into winter. So, I’ve just never seen the point in conversing about something that I nor anyone else cannot change. Weather is what it is and nothing will stop it, so I prefer to simply put my head down and deal with it accordingly, similar to life’s other little irritations that I can’t control – needing gas in my car when I’ve used up what’s in the tank, having to wash my hair because I just don’t have the face for a Sinead-do, having to buy groceries via the brutal process of in the cart, out of the cart, in the bags, back in the cart, in the car, out of the car, in the house, out of the bags, and finally into their storage destinations. Life is full of mundane tasks and circumstances and
Yet, here I am, on the cusp of breaking my own rule.
I am hating this winter.
There – I’ve said it. Trite, cliché, predictable, boring – I agree.
Yet I must speak on it, not because I have some uncontrollable urge to discuss the weather itself. In fact, I really don’t have much to comment on aside from my astonishment over how little I care about my appearance as the temperatures drop and my age climbs. I have not a thing to say about current weather conditions.
Except that it’s creating a situation that is making me crazy: the daily laundering of the snow suit.
I am the one who generally hushes Huzbo when he gets wound up about dirt or food on the clothes. I don’t enjoy hand-made messes, but I don’t want my anal-retentiveness to ever impede my kids’ fun or their necessary sensory development.
Yet, I still can’t seem to come to grips with why my child feels it necessary to slide around daily on the salt-covered ground on her belly.
I see the other kids coming out of the school each afternoon. Their snow suits are not resemblant of a glazed donut! I’ve driven by her school at lunch time and most of the other kids manage to stay standing while they partake in their fun and games. Mine? She arrives home daily with a lovely grit of dried dirt and salt covering her entire snow suit, front and back, with a side of sopping wet mittens that dry already starched if left on the vent. So filthy is her outerwear that I’ve had to put it in the washer every day, leaving me to wonder if the garments will actually make it through the winter.
It’s gotten to the point where I’m actually GLAD when we have Deep Freeze Days. Minus twenty wind chill means indoor play only at our school, which in turn equates to an afternoon free of snow suit laundry for me.
So Mother Nature, if you don’t mind, I’d prefer you simply take your leave, but if you’re going to be here – make it cold and make it count.
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