OK so we’ve had a little snow today. Which means that all anyone will talk about all day is the snow. How much we’re going to get, and how the world doesn’t have to stop for a centimetre of snow, “send in your pictures of the snow!” etc. Oh, how we love to talk about the weather. So, in light of my recent writers block, I may as well jump on the bandwagon and put forth my ten pence worth.
I was having my shower this morning when son one burst in and shouted “SNOW, no school today!” I’d be lying if I didn’t say I was on a bit of a go slow in case I got the word that school was closed and I could put my pyjamas back on. But school website stated “business as usual.” Bugger.
Trying to get the kids ready for school was serious “pass me the Rescue Remedy on second thoughts I’ll have something stronger” territory. There was the excitement (and resultant chaos) that only a child can feel for wearing wellies (son number two’s being three sizes too big as I refuse to pay out for a pair in his size when his feet appear to be growing at 10cm a week), the kerfuffle of trying to find lost hats (which was never resolved), and having a row with son number two over his refusal to have his cosy toes attached to his buggy (because he wanted to look at his wellies).
Trying to move an already unwieldy pushchair through snow is not something I have ever had to face before. While I appreciated the work out (I needed it) I did not particularly enjoy having to half drag, half thrust the buggy, mostly at a diagonal angle, through untouched snow. Yes, in more relaxed circumstances, it should have been fun. But stressed, late and without the proper clothing for such an inhospitable environment it was about as fun as a funeral. Son number one fell over in the snow barely a few yards from our driveway, going from “yay, snow!” to “I don’t like snow” and whimpering like a puppy the whole journey, all the while me trying to push down my guilty feelings of seeing his poor bare hatless head and son number two’s blanket-less lap.
I can understand why infant schools remain open despite the snow. Kids at that age make tiny little fluffy snowballs, thrown with a gentle arm at things like lamp posts and wheelie bins. Snow to them is about joy and fun. Older kids, particularly boys, are a lot more vicious in their approach to the white stuff. I am still mentally scarred by the feeling of a snowball, shiny and hard from lots of squeezing and polishing, hitting a cold, bare cheek with enough force to knock you over onto an icy playground. And I will never forget the horrid shock when someone roughly grabs your coat and puts snow down your back, while everyone else stands around laughing, then having to put up with a cold, wet shirt and bruised ego for the rest of the day.
Yes, we’re all adults and should be able to cope with a little snow. And we all have a vision of being at the park with our sledges, having a lovely day frolicking in the snow, making snowmen and coming home to steaming cups of hot chocolate with marshmallows. But as usual, reality rarely lives up to the day dream. I know from experience that dragging two cold wet boys through an inch of snow on a sledge, catching on sections of bare tarmac below, son number two repeatedly throwing himself out of the sledge (losing his ill fitting wellies in the process), and both of them bored and wanting to go home and play on the Xbox before we’d even got there, is not all it’s cracked up to be. So, on reflection, I’m glad the school has remained open.
But I do love the idea of snow, and I will always have a sense of excitement when I open my curtains to a white blanket. I have hope for my fantasy snow days when my kids are older and more able to enjoy it, and I won’t have quite so much responsibility as far as protective clothing is concerned.
