After running errands last week, I took the boys to the dollar store. Son No. 2 had a Toonie that was burning a hole in his pocket. I'm a fan of the dollar store as it fills my need for pens but not a fan because there is a lot o' crap. Both boys have learned that lesson the hard way—Dollar store toys always break before we even get home, mom—so I was surprised he wanted to go. Even more surprised when I specified he could NOT BUY ANY CANDY. And yes, a Ring Pop is considered candy not an accessory.
I let them run off while I wandered around the stationary aisle salivating over pens. Ten minutes later they came back with Son No. 2 carrying a light up yo-yo and a ball of string.
"This is what I want to buy, mom."
*Looks quizzically at him, then string, then him again, shrugs shoulders, pays for items*
MY KIDS HAVE BEEN PLAYING WITH THE STRING FOR THREE DAYS NOW.
They created a pulley system with the string that starts on the top floor of our house and have spent hours lowering and lifting stuffed animals—each stuffed animal wearing a harness made of....you guessed it....STRING!
Sunday Son No. 2 had a friend over and they tied a large loop of string around the bannisters in our staircase, Son No. 2 sat in the kitchen, his friend sat on the second floor, they attached notes to the string with a clip which they sent to each other. Sort of like a clothesline but for notes.
Yesterday morning Son No. 2 was causing a ruckus in the bathroom, why they fight over the toothpaste WHEN THERE'S TWO TUBES I'll never understand, so I told him he lost his string playing privileges for the morning—he burst into tears. That my son was crying because he couldn't play with string? That is called an awesome moment in parenting.
Sometimes it's the simplest items coupled with imagination that make the best toys.
And the yo-yo? It's been sitting untouched since Saturday.
Scene: Early, weekday morning. Sleep-deprived, dishevelled woman sitting in front of desk, drinking coffee and stuffing face with a bagel while typing one-handed. Two boys in the background alternating between eating breakfast and fighting.
Phone rings. Woman answers.
Hello. This is a phone call from the “only school district in Ontario to close schools due to snowstorms.” We will be closing all schools today.
Woman hangs up phone, sits back chuckling. “Suckers!” she’s thinking.
Woman’s eyes suddenly grow wide as she jumps from her chair. Holy shit! I live in the “only school district in Ontario to close schools due to snowstorms!”
Woman starts crying.
*****
Okay, I didn’t actually cry. But there really was a brain freeze moment when I didn’t realize the school district they were referring to was my school district and the “holy shit” moment when it dawned on me it was. Any plans I had for the day had just been thrown out the window.
While I may end up sounding like my parents or grandparents, when I was a kid, they never cancelled school. Ten feet of snow on the ground? Open. Tornado just tore through leaving only a desk and a chalkboard? Open. Measles outbreak? Open. 45 degrees and a humidex warning? Open, and send shorts for gym class, we’ll be having it outside today as it’s too hot in the gym.
My parents both worked and we lived one block away from our elementary school. If there was a snowstorm we were going whether we liked it or not. By ourselves. Trudging through the snow, complaining and grumbling not appreciating the awesomeness that was about to unfold before us.
And it was awesome. The most awesomest awesome that ever awesomed. Because there’d only be a handful of kids in the entire school. And even though we thought the teachers had made a pact with the devil in order to get to the school in the midst of a storm. Guess what? They didn’t want to be there either. So we’d all just hang out in one classroom and do art projects and word searches, read books from the library and play games in the gym. At recess we’d go out to play on the snowplow mountains where we’d scramble to the top and push off anyone who dared tried to reach us, yelling "I'm the king of the castle and you're the dirty rascal." Actually push them! And they’d fall. Then a really weird thing would happen. They’d pick themselves up and climb up that hill again. And then they’d push you and you’d fall. How awesome is that?
And we’d throw snowballs. Ya, there was the one incident involving a more ice than snow ball and Eye Patch Pete, but for the most part it was fun. Funner than face washes where the snow would scratch your face and nobody would know if you were dripping melted snow from your red, frozen face-icle or crying. But it didn’t really matter because while your face was being ground into the snow, we’d eat it. Actually eat the snow! And nobody would tell us how dangerous it was! We’d eat the snow because we were too lazy to go in and get a drink from the water fountains. And we’d continue to eat it until we thought we were going to pee in our snowsuits and then it would be a race against time. Would we be able to run all the way inside to the washrooms (by ourselves, no washroom partners thankyouverymuch), get out of our boots and unzip our one-piece snowsuits before the pee came? Some days you won, and others? Meh. A few years of therapy and I'm totally over the whole Pee Pants Sharon thing.
We ended up having a fantastic snow day filled with tobogganing and skating, hot chocolate with marshmallows, tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, movie watching and playing Rock Band. At the end of the day both boys told me their high point was having a snow day. Snow days are awesome mom!
Times may have changed but he’s right. Snow days are awesome.
Know what else is awesome? This...
I make a large effort to appreciate the little things in life. It's an ongoing work in progress and even over this past year I've had to realign, so focused on the big picture I was missing out on the tiny tidbits that make life special.
It's easy to get caught up in the day-to-day stuff and not see what's RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF OUR EYES. That I'm a destination and not a journey person makes it even more difficult. Some days I'm like a plow horse with blinders, needing to complete the tasks at hand and not be distracted by silly things like coffee that has been mixed with the perfect amounts of cream and sugar or the automatic toilet flushing after I have stood up instead of mid-pee or finding $10 in the pocket of my winter jacket left there from last year
Last Wednesday it snowed. It's been a bare winter around here and the kids were super excited to see the field in front of our house covered in white. I was worried about driving in the bad weather to get them to their doctor's appointment on time. While they ran around the backyard making trails, I barked at them to get in the van..."we're going to be late!"
It's no wonder my kids occasionally see me as a complete AssHat.
There's this boy, A., in Son No. 2's class. He moved here last year—I'm not sure from where but when he arrived he spoke no English. Son No. 2 took to him right away, playing soccer with him at recess and helping to teach him new words. For some reason it was important to Son No. 2 that A. learned hot dog.
Last Wednesday when I went to pick up the boys at school, Son No. 2 ran over to me yelling "It's the first time A. has seen snow, Mom! He's never seen snow before!" and he ran off to play with a group of boys, A. included. They were running around throwing snow at each other, cheeks flushed from the cold —A. didn't stop smiling the entire time. Then I heard someone call A.'s name...it was his dad. He had brought a camera and was filming his son playing in the snow for the first time ever.
I stood there in that field surrounded by after-school chaos and yet the only thing I saw was wonderment in the face of a little boy experiencing snow for the first time as his dad looked on smiling.
It was a gift given to me, not wrapped in paper, but in flushed cheeks and smiles.
What little thing have you appreciated today?
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