Is it the snow? The cancelled schools all across Minnesota? Too much family time?
The claustrophobia from everyone’s junk being inside? Everyone’s body being (mostly) inside? The load on our shoulders from trying to keep up with allthethings while the kids are also at home doing allthethings?
There were so many snow days – or at least, days full of snow but we actually went to school – when we were kids that nostalgia creeps in with each flake. And Minnesota is the best in the sense that people don’t buckle down and stop moving when the weather gets crazy. The bundle up and find a way. Move around it. Shovel it. Slow down. Turn up the soup.
All of those things are so lovely until the great meltdown. The moment the joy goes away, the love of it all begins to disappear, it’s almost like a death before the birth of Spring. It’s the moment every parents has had enough, cannot possibly imagine more days where more time is spent inside rather than outside, where we need to send them (read: the kids) outside in a manner much quicker than the snowpants and zippers and earmuffs will allow.
Alas, we melt. We fry. We burn. We need the schools – not to teach but to hold. We need the children to carry on with their little lives in the way that we carry on with ours. We love them, hold them, read to them and cuddle them and warm their rosy cheeks. But mama is melting. down.
Sweet, sweet children. With their zest for sledding, for no school, for pajamas all day (don’t we all kind of love that?) and their ability to find every toy they’ve ever received and hold them during the months of November thru February and cloud the hallways and the stairs with – you guessed it – allthethings. It’s time.
It’s time for the snow to melt before the parents do.
The Woodford Sisters