The Uncivilized Tundra

It's been Happy New Year for nine days now.

And Happy Snowed In for nearly that long, I think. That part of my mind that records the regular passage of time has sort of slipped off its track a bit.

Who was it that wasn't ready for Christmas break to be over?
Oh yes, that was me.
For the most part, I have enjoyed this little house-bound spell with the aftermath of a blizzard.  The first couple of days I ventured out to the barn to do the kids' chores because it was my chance to play Arctic Explorer meets Dr. Zhivago. Plus, I found a ski mask that made me feel like a hot criminal. Not really. I mean, yes, I found a ski mask, but no, I didn't feel hot. Just regular criminal.

Poor frozen Norah holds a poor frozen bird.  Willa thought we should save it for decoration.

Somewhere along the way, we discovered that we had a formerly frozen pipe. It was easy to pinpoint the location as we had a mini waterfall wake us in the middle of the night.

After we had sopped up the flood and reburied ourselves beneath a pile of scratchy wool blankets and heavy comforters, the Man of the House remarked, "I guess I'll call [the plumber who I hope doesn't have the Internets] tomorrow."
I didn't respond verbally. Lack of communication usually means I'm dead, as I have a genetic ability to carry on my half of a conversation (and a portion of your share too) in my sleep. But this time my words were simply frozen with shock.
"Someone else in our house? An outsider? A non-relative? A repair man?!?" [These are my un-voiced thoughts. You can tell because they're in italics.]
"So maybe you could clean up the basement a little. So he can get to the things he needs to," my escaping-from-the-house-returning-to-work-the-next-day-husband continued.

"The basement? That part of our house that I pretend doesn't exist?" 

Hesitantly, I cleared my throat. 

"Well, why would he have to go to the basement?  The leak is up here, in our bedroom." 

"In fact, the leak is behind our bed. The other part of our house that I have intentionally forgotten." 

"Because he has to get to the [element of household equipment whose name I can't remember because it lives in the basement.] So maybe just clear a path to that."

 Now this [plumber who I hope doesn't have the Internets] is a very nice man. Middle-bordering-old aged, small, quiet, unassuming, extremely nice. He's so nice that I feel uncomfortable with my personality when I'm around him. I feel uncomfortable with my personality when I just think about him from a safe distance.
I also get the feeling that he probably lives in a very clean house, with a basement that could be mistaken for living space.

I do not live in a very clean house. I live with five children, all of whom seem decidedly anti-clean.  During this period of snowed-innishness, my facebook friends  (those true sources of encouragement and fellowship) have been neatly divided into two categories:
1. All [hashtag] snowed-in so we'll make snow-related crafts, create food out of snow, play snowman charades, bake snowman shaped cookies and cinnamon rolls, and in many other ways entertain our children with meaningful, engaging activities.
2. All [hashtag] snowed-in so I'm cleaning my house from top-to-bottom.

 In other words, I need new facebook friends. Ones that fit into my category:
1. [no hashtag] Snowed-in with five children so I'm compulsively eating. And hiding.

I gave my children siblings so that I wouldn't have to entertain them myself. And I don't clean so much as pick up messes, which is usually the precursor to cleaning. In my case, it's just the precursor to picking up more messes.  But threatened by the "sometime this afternoon" arrival of the painfully nice [plumber who I hope doesn't have the Internets], I cleaned. And then I entertained my children all by myself.

I didn't exactly clean as if I were expecting guests, because guests come to the civilized places: living room, dining room, kitchen and (when no one is looking) bathroom.  Repair persons seek out the uncivilized places: basements and behind bedroom furniture. It's not that I wouldn't like to bring civilization to those places, but I feel as though we must provide a habitat for spiders and dust bunnies. They were here before we were. We're visitors in their environment.

With total lack of compassion for the spider and [dust] bunny ecology, I dusted out the space behind our bed and sorted out the things hiding beneath. The sorting was a bonus, because I'm fairly sure none of the heating pipes tunnel under the floorboards.  The bonus sorting revealed that I have a lot of shoes.  I wouldn't say I have a shoe buying problem, just a shoe throwing away problem.
With similar regardless-ness, I cleared a path to where I think the [plumber who I hope doesn't have the Internets] will have to visit in the basement. Of course, I didn't do anything about the stored toys that the snowed-in children had discovered and strewn about the cellar. I just concentrated my efforts on the room where the furnace and its friends live.  Which means I found myself sorting mason jars in the middle of the afternoon.

Once I had brought a small semblence of order to these hidden places of our house, the children and I ventured out on the frozen pond so they could play Arctic explorer (no Dr. Zhivago yet) and not make more messes.  I am a teensy bit nervous around frozen ponds, not just for the slip-and-slide factor, but for the break-through-the-ice-and-drown factor.  But it turns out that prolonged periods of well-below freezing temperatures freezes more than birds.  Willa was a little concerned about the "freeze bite" she'd heard about on the radio, but everyone returned inside with all their fingers and toes intact.

I like to think those frozen bubbles are from the fishes' New Years Eve celebrations.

After all that effort, plus some more that I don't remember, Mr. [plumber who I hope doesn't have the Internets] never showed up. So unless I provide further non-sibling entertainment, or introduce them to Dr. Zhivago, my snowed-in children will find these new places to scatter puzzle pieces, Lego sets and baby doll paraphernalia: around the furnace and behind my bed.

Winter Backyard Wonderland

I couldn't handle another round of indoor tag today, so I insisted that our Physically Educating segment take place in the snow.   The only problem was that I made this declaration in GNotSuchABaby's presence.  She was not going to be left out again.

Very serious about this first expedition into snow play.

There's lots to do, even if there isn't enough snow for a fort, snow people, or sled pulling.

Digging in the ice left by a dripping garden hose.  We prepare well for winter.

Since this is his favorite cat, I'd hate to see him playing with the ones he doesn't like so much.

I made them all group together for a picture.

Immediately after enjoying a nice healthy scarf snack, Weston returned to frozen gardening. Sam turned to Norah with an enticing, "Let's pretend we're Americans fighting Germans in World War 2!"

She was all over that idea.
I am raising my children right. (I hope.) Of course, when I was growing up, we pretended that we were oppressed Jews running away and hiding from Germans, not fighting.  I can't decide which role play is better, but there is no doubt that snow enhances both situations.
The little sisters were left to fend for them{bundled-up}selves.  When I saw the protective way that Willa was guiding Ginger around the yard, my icy heart cracked with warm feelings of good cheer.

Were there ever such adorable sisters? I mean, since my sisters and I grew up?

Christmas Capped and Re-Capped.

This first paragraph has nothing to do with Christmas, or anything else in my life, really.

* * *
I dreamed I met this actor at a (fairly empty) bar. I then proceeded to tell him that I loved his work (walking around the house using his "I'm so changeable" line on my husband) but really only watched the show for the Jim Gaffigan cameos.  When I woke up, I realized that Gaffigan doesn't make an appearance in the new Sherlock series.  Did I just give the BBC a stellar idea? I think so!
They probably won't thank me.
* * *
Now, a merry little re-cap.

We had several very nice celebrations of Christmas.

Well, GBaby didn't enjoy herself so much.

But she's better now. Back to her regular self.

And WBeans claims that she didn't get any presents that she liked.

But I've noticed that she's played a lot with them anyway. Plus, she obviously had plenty of chocolate for face decorating.

After Christmas, we were blessed with snow to help us struggle through the remainder of 2012.
I love pretty snow.

I love when my kids play in the snow.  It saves me emotionally.

But today we have to get back into schoolwork.

Some of us are obviously more excited about this than others.

22/28 (Love)

Ahh... a snow day. As I wrote this morning, I was pleased with the prospect of a schedule-free day and looked forward to filling it with fun activities.

"My children will remember what a great mom I am," I thought. "We will do crafts, a few chores, bake cinnamon bread and take a frozen trek around our yard. Then they'll nap and I'll pay bills."

I did not anticipate the ridiculous amount of time I would spend messing around with photoshop. Nor did I consider how much laundry I had to fold.

"Good thing I never mentioned crafts or baking to the children."

After lunch and clean-up (more tasks that took longer than they should have) we started suiting up for an outside adventure. "What a great chance to take pictures of nature's beauty! Let's look for today's Love picture outside, kids!"

Turns out, not everyone wanted to go outside.

But they went. "They are going to have fun whether they want to or not!"

Turns out, not everyone had a good attitude or a good time.

And the snow scenes didn't take my breath away. No, that was accomplished by lugging a weary and cold toddler atop my 8 month pregnant belly as I trudged on the ice-under-snow-in-the-cold-wind.

The pictures look like we had fun (you can see them on my facebook page) but I didn't really "see" the love I was looking for. There were some examples of love: Sammy loving the pets by feeding them, Norah loving her sister by pulling her sled, Willa loving her mommy by not complaining, Weston loving... well, um... the outdoors? But really, it wasn't the special write-a-book-about-what-a-great-mom experience I hoped for. And really, I should have known better; two of my children have been sick this past week, they probably shouldn't have been outside so long.

Needless to say, the frozen trek wore most of us (including me) out too much to carry on with any more activities besides napping.



But after naps, when I went to retrieve Willa from her bed... I saw this picture out the window. It was the beautiful love I was looking for today. Something I couldn't create or manipulate. I could only try to record the moment through the dirty glass in my upstairs hall. How much God loves us: He not only prepares our paths and orders our days, but He surrounds us with loveliness.

I know this sunset was not just for me. I'm not the center of the world. I'm not even the best mother in the world... this peaceful sunset was there because God wanted it, because it sang a silent song of praise to Him.

Love humbles us when we're proud.

Snowy Ramblings...

Snow day! Baking, craft projects, card games, books... how long before they're begging for movies and computer games? I love these relaxed days at home with no schedule to keep.

Ok, I guess I have a few chores to do too, but I am not going to let them (or the bored children's bickering) steal my pleasure in the cozy house, beautiful snowy landscape and all the wonderful ways I see God at work around me.

Hmmm... maybe we need to bundle up and work a freezing family hike around the back yard into our no schedule day.