What happened to thrust us into this uncomfortable, unwelcome, stressful state of being?
It snowed.
And the whole world changed. Shifted smoothly into an alternative form of functioning. But our family did not shift along with it. We are sputtering and tripping and tumbling. Our physical bodies are here, but our souls are trapped in a place where it snows and then the snow MELTS.
Now, I'm not complaining about the weather. In fact, we had a fabulous, beautiful, perfect fall...and it went on and on for months. It was glorious! I believe that (except for parts of California, but California doesn't count) we had the best weather in the country during October and most of November. The rest of the country has had to dig themselves out of snowdrifts and tornado debris. It was clearly our turn for some digging.
So, I gently remind you, I am not whining about Mother Nature. (I'll try to hold off until at least January.) Instead, I am lamenting this here mother's complete and utter failure to be prepared for Wisconsin winter.
The problem is that I thought I was prepared.
I am no snow virgin. I have lived in places where it snows, where it can (and does) snow A LOT. Idaho, Colorado, Northern Arizona, Utah, Delaware, Ohio. I have lived through, I believe, more than my fair share of record-setting blizzards. I know how to deal with a snow storm. So months ago I began preparing my children for this winter's snow storms. I purchased boots and snow pants, good coats and a load of gloves. They would be perfect for post-storm play in our newly-fenced backyard.
I am not completely stupid. I can look at a map: I knew that winter here in "the North Country" (as Greg's mom affectionately calls it) would be more intense than anything we'd experienced before. But I never stopped to ponder exactly how that intensity would take form. I am sure this is because I did not want to face the truth of what day to day life was going to be like this winter. (Our lovely autumn was so long that I think I began to allow myself to believe that it might go on forever.)
And so here I am.
Shocked. Paralyzed. Feeling as if I just got run over by a snow plow. Or flattened by a zamboni.
I am suddenly wildly insecure as a mother (as if I weren't insecure enough already). I am banging my head against the bottom of the Wisconsin-winter-weather-survival learning curve--like I am in second grade learning long-division again. I have not felt this overwhelmed and disoriented since the first day of junior high. Or the last time I tried to follow a recipe with more than 3 steps.
None of this should come as a surprise.
But somehow it all does:
- The snow never melts.
- The snow never melts (or even turns slushy) because it is really freaking cold. Every day. For five months.
- Once the temperature drops and the first snow falls, everything changes into winter mode. Mostly this means every one's footwear changes. And puffy full-length down coats appear everywhere. And you have to plan extra time for anything and everything that involves leaving your house.
- Boots and snow pants are NOT primarily for weekend post-snow storm play.
- Boots and snow pants are for every day.
- Boots and snow pants are for EVERY DAY.
- BOOTS AND SNOW PANTS ARE FOR EVERY DAY.
- The children go out to recess every day (twice) unless the temperature is below -10.
- Did you read number 8??? For comparison, in Ohio, the children at David's preschool went out only when the temperature remained above 32 degrees. Last year, in Texas, teachers didn't hesitate to keep their kids in if the temperature dropped below 40. Now they go out unless the temperature drops below NEGATIVE TEN. That is 42 degrees BELOW FREEZING. It makes sense--it's not that I would have expected the kids to stay in all winter.....I just never put 2 and 2 together. Meaning, if the kids are not going to stay inside all winter, then they are going to have to be prepared for cold weather and snow. The snow and cold weather do not let up until March or April, so they need to be prepared EVERY DAY. I repeat: BOOTS AND SNOW PANTS ARE FOR EVERY DAY.
- I think I've stopped writing in a list now. It's only depressing me.
It snowed over the weekend, and Monday was a world in which I did not know how to function.
First, I sent Mary to school in sneakers and thin stretch pants. (When I arrived to pick her up, all of the other children were frolicking in the snow, snug in their boots, hats, and snow pants. Mary was standing there, an isolated frozen waif of girl. She demanded that I allow her to wear her snow pants to school from now on. Um, yes.) I did not know preschoolers went outside when the slide is buried in snow and the temperature is 13 degrees.
Then I sent David to school improperly dressed as well. His teacher had sent a note home requesting that snow pants come to school every day. So I obediently packed snow pants in his backpack, a little unsure of their purpose. (Don't ask me why it did not occur to me that they were for SNOW. I was still in DENIAL. And I think a little part of me honestly believed that someone was going to remove all of the weekend's snow from the playground. Or maybe I still thought the snow was going to melt.)
But she hadn't said anything about snow boots. Instead of thinking like a normal person, "Oh, there is a lot of snow outside and it's 10 degrees. And my son is required to bring snow pants to school. THEREFORE HE NEEDS TO WEAR SNOW BOOTS," I was thinking like someone with three brain cells who is accustomed to winter gear being for reserved for special occasions like skiing or building a snow man. Not school. Fortunately, before I took David to school, Greg called and suggested that David may need to have snow boots at school. I listened to Greg, who faces the elements each day on the one mile walk from his thousand dollar parking space to the engineering building, and shoved David's boots in along with the snow pants. I still could not wrap my head around the fact that David might need to WEAR HIS BOOTS TO SCHOOL. Who really needs snow boots? What ever happened to sidewalks and snow shovels and ice melt?
Of course, as David and I rushed from the parking lot to the school, we had to stumble through a big snow drift. As I saw David's sneaker sink into the snow, the truth hit me like an ice ball. David would be wearing his snow boots EVERY DAY until spring break.
Snow boots are for survival, not just for fun.
I was not mentally prepared for this. I hate winter gear. I am the one who prided herself on getting herself and her kids through an entire Ohio winter without coats. I am the one who would not buy her children good gloves even if they were going on a field trip to the North Pole. I am the one who considers popping a few extra anti-anxiety pills each time her snowy, soggy kids tromp into the house after snowman building.
I am the one who likes to be prepared.
So I panicked. Did David have the right snow boots? I had bought them on clearance with a kind of make-do attitude. I didn't know they would be an integral part of his life for 5 months! Would he be able to get them on? And off? What about his snow pants? And Mary's boots? And Mary's snow pants? Oh, and gloves! Do they have the right gloves and mittens? Will my children stay alive when it is -9 outside? Had I made the right choices? Had I prepared my children?
I swallowed my pride and plead my ignorance to David's teacher. Mrs. Q very calmly and slowly and sweetly (she is a kindergarten teacher after all) explained that David did indeed need to wear his boots and bring his snow pants every day until spring break. She gave me some ideas on gloves, and she promised to let me know if David was struggling enough with his boots to warrant purchasing a different style.
She also confirmed to me the horrible truth, so horrible that I simply could not allow myself to imagine it until now: The kindergartners put on their snow pants, gloves, coats, boots, and hats for recess twice a day, every day. Mrs. Q explained that for the first month or so it takes about 20 minutes for the entire class to dress. (Recess itself is only twenty minutes, folks.) But she assured me that by spring break , they would be able to do it in 5. Are you shuddering at the thought of 17 five-year-olds putting on all that stuff and then taking it off again? You should be.
I volunteered in David's class today, so I was present when the class dressed for morning recess. Mrs. Q is adamant about allowing the children to do it themselves. It was quite the sight--an explosion of boots, mismatched gloves, hats, and scarves. The floor was covered with children slithering and squirming into pants, and the air was filled with laments over stuck zippers. But they all managed it, with just a little tiny bit of help here and there.
If you are still reading this post, bless you. And for your loyalty and commitment, I reward you with this anecdote related to me by a mother volunteering in a different K class. Yesterday, when she arrived at the classroom to volunteer, she carefully hung her coat next to the students'. During the chaos of dressing for recess, her coat disappeared...and was soon discovered outside on the playground being ignorantly and innocently donned by a kindergartner. Is that not the funniest thing you've heard today, or what? I'm still laughing about it.
For me, the initial shock of it all--the velcro on the boots, the five thousand zippers, the lost gloves, the soggy socks, the chapped lips, the extra hours spent every day dressing and undressing--is wearing off. More than anything, it's been a mental shock. And not only for me. Poor David had no idea what he was in store for once that snow began to fall. And I didn't have the sense to prepare him for it. School is definitely more stressful now. Things like shoes and zippers aren't the easiest for him. (Sheesh! Kindergartners in Florida, Texas, Georgia, Mesa, San Francisco, Las Vegas, etc. etc. have it so dang easy. No bitterness. No bitterness. No bitterness.) But he's learning quickly, and he's a compliant, resilient kiddo.
By the way, Mary loves clothes and accessories. She is HATING the winter weather, but LOVING the winter gear.
I'm still learning and adjusting.
When EVERYONE whipped out the uggs on Monday, I thought the state was trapped in some kind of 2003 fashion time warp. It turns out uggs aren't a belated fashion statement--they're a NECESSITY. (Who knew?) What else would you wear to yoga/pilates/fusion if it's too cold for Chacos/Birks/Havaianas? You also wear your uggs to Zumba class and change into your shoes once you get there. Otherwise, the snow that you were sure you wiped off but didn't will turn to water and you will slip and fall on your butt in the middle a merengue.
Also, your kids wear their snow boots to Lego club at the library. Then they can just take off their boots and pad around on the carpet in their socks.
Also, slippers are very important. Otherwise you will slip on the melted snow that inevitably is tracked through your house no matter how many rules you make.
Also, those rubber trays that recently appeared in various public places (like the gym) where the umbrella baskets used to be are for snow boots.
Also, it's important to clean up your yard before the first snow because you're not going to see it again until Easter.
Perhaps most importantly, many items in the Lands End and L.L. Bean winter catalogs that were previously something of a mystery to me now make perfect sense.
Really, I am going to end this post soon. (Can you tell I needed a little bloggy therapy?) But first I want to tell you one more thing, real quick......
I am not one that experiences intense culture shock upon encountering a new country or region of our own country. I tend to take in stride how other groups of people live. I don't often think, "People live like this???" or "I have to live like this???" I may not be able to cope with a toddler's missed nap or a whiny preschooler, but bucket showers? Peeing in a hole? Soft drinks the size of my pinky? No problem. (Even after a year and a half in the Dominican Republic, I think the worst culture shock I've ever had was in Dover, Delaware. It was the inability to pay with a credit card at many major stores and restaurants. I had to carry cash! In America! It was like living in the 80s.)
When we first arrived in Turkey, our friend Josh L. drove us into Adana to see the traffic, chaos, street vendors, local dress, huge mosque, etc. He was really looking forward to seeing the shock on our faces. He was somewhat disappointed by how underwhelmed Greg and I were. It takes a lot to shock us.
Josh, if only you could see my face now.
