March Snow

 

If you've been following what Brian Williams refers to, nightly, as "the winter of our discontent," or if you, well, LIVE HERE, then you know the East Coast has had a mighty cold, mighty crappy winter. Storm upon storm--the complicated kind, where you start with freezing rain THEN snow then a thaw then a refreeze over the course of a 4- or 5-day period--has hit our area this past winter. Our county has closed for TEN school days. Day care? Not quite as many, though still . . . PLENTY.

What started as beautiful, atmospheric snow became, by late January, a major pain in our arses. With the advent of telework (which is, in 99% of cases, a working mom's best friend), snow days are eliminated. As in, officially eliminated. As in, "you are expected to work from home if you can't get into the office."

There's just one teensy, tiny glitch with the telecommuting-solves-all-problems solution:

Children. At. Home.

After several snow days in which Chris and I juggled parenting and working, taking shifts, negotiating whose deadline or call was more important, or whether the driveway REALLY needed to be shoveled, I dreaded the winter storm alert emails. Not being able to control the weather, the unknowns of how bad roads would be or what day care would decide, the disruption in routine, getting behind in work, the sense I was working twice as hard for crappier results, cabin fever, Chris's extremely inflexible employer, and not a single kid illness (except for Lorelei's most recent cold) coinciding with snow days--well, I had pretty much had it. I was particularly frustrated by the urgency of Chris's work obligations and the sense that my job was taking a backseat.

Playing inside on another snow day. This was right before they fought over who got to hold the drill.

This is an extremely busy time of year for me--it all peaks next week at my work's annual conference--and I could not catch up. There was always another call for Chris to take or email to write, and meanwhile I faced big deadlines, along with another tush to wipe, another mess to clean, another meal to prep, another load of laundry to do, another sister squabble to referee, another episode of Sofia to put on, and on and on and on.

This? This was not working. I could no longer chalk up the shitty days to being once-per-year snow days. No, these damn snow days kept on coming, along with school delays, dicey driving conditions, bitter cold and wind, and a few colds, ear infections, and pink eye thrown in for fun.

I sat Chris down. I explained this was not working. At this particular point in my life, I'm glad I'm a working mom and I wanted to make it freaking WORK, but for all of his insistence that my job was just as important as his, that belief was not being demonstrated. I could not keep being back-burnered.

I love Chris dearly, and bless his heart, he heard me. And, as expected, another winter storm came. This time, Chris didn't wait for the snow-induced negotiations of whose work obligations were more important. Instead, he simply took a vacation day, did not turn on his laptop, and played with the girls all day, allowing me to lock myself up in the office and toil.

This meant a lot to me, and I was able to keep everything on track as a result. A week or two later, another winter storm warning came on a Saturday, warning of significant snow (in March!) to come late Sunday night and Monday morning.

What was I going to do? I had stuff in the office I had to get through and sent out. I kept doing the math in my head: this wasn't going to work. If I pushed everything back a day, my deadlines wouldn't work. Sunday morning, I was showering and getting ready to go teach Sunday school, trying to figure out what to do. I couldn't control the weather, but I COULD control what I did during the rest of that cold, overcast Sunday. So, after church, Charlotte and I went into the office. I felt guilty--I really, really don't think the office is the place for sane people to be on a Sunday. Besides that, I really do try to keep work apart from my weekend/kid/night time. I succeed, so long as routines are not thrown off. You can see why snow days make me insane.

At my weirdly silent office on that Sunday afternoon, Charlotte explored our floor, played a bit with the copier, and watched some Cinderella, and I shoved out what I needed to get gone and picked up some other work to bring home. Walking out, I realized that I had built in a good buffer against what Monday would bring. I was actually AHEAD of schedule. Still, I was peeved I had spent my Sunday afternoon in the office, so Charlotte and I made ourselves feel better with an oversized cookie from a pretentious Bethesda coffee shop.

At my office.

We got 10 inches of snow that night. The next day, the government and day care closed. Chris went into a work a few hours late and I watched the girls (and worked a little), not terribly pissed about it.

We DID get a respite. A couple of weirdly warm days coincided gloriously with weekends, allowing lots of scooter riding, park playing, and soccer ball kicking.

At a creamery (with actual cows!), eating ice cream. Outside. Without coats.

Yesterday, within the final week of March, I walked about 3/4 mile to a doctor's appointment in Bethesda in swirling snow, bitter, gusty wind, and . . . (brilliantly) heels. According to my phone, which only worked once enough heat had returned to my fingertips to have those app icons sense my touch,  it was 17 degrees with windchill. I should've worn something hardier than unlined, thin cotton dress pants. All around me, people speed-walked, heads down, bodies stiffly held tight into themselves, faces grimacing.

This winter has been long. It has caused a lot of problems for a lot of people, and some have even died. And on my birthday (today), which I've always associated with springtime and Easter, I'm looking at a lawn covered in snow. But I do believe it will melt, and, as someone who has never been THAT into spring or summer (especially muggy summers out here), I am REALLY looking forward to spring. I'm excited for it. Like, REALLY excited. All those metaphors and symbols of newness and rebirth and starting over . . .  spring WILL come. It will. This long, crappy winter has been healthy in some ways--forcing Chris and me to shake out some some inequities on snow days, giving a LOT more family time than we had banked on, justifying a long overdue purchase of a down coat for mama (which North Face actually called "The Lorelei"--hello? I had to buy it!), and, overall, giving a deep appreciation for what spring will bring.

Spring WILL come.