an almost-Christmas poem
Twas the week before christmas, deep hours of the night
and Mama was riding the exercise bike.
She'd fallen asleep with the children at seven
and there went her sewing time shot straight to heaven.
Then one in the morning she woke with a fret
to the four-year-old screaming "Maaamaaaa! I'm all wet!"
Quick off with his PJs, quick change all the sheets
quick cuddle two shaken boys safe back to sleep.
And then in her head there arose such a clatter
to out-shout the stress of a child's active bladder.
What presents are finished? What still to be made?
Do you have enough thread for the doll's coat's brocade?
How long will the knitting take? How long the baking?
How much are you counting on children not waking?
And what shall they eat while you fill their gift sacks?
Yes, what are you serving for dinner and snacks?
So down from her bedroom she floated etherial
to pour almond milk in a bowl of cold cereal
and try to set goals for the upcoming day
all while biking a few stress-made hormones away.
And as Mama sat cycling she thought of the reason
why Mamas work so flipping hard all this season.
She thought of her children in (pee-smelling) beds
while visions of wrapped presents danced their heads:
The sweaters with bunnies in colors they favor,
the candy like that which we gave to the neighbor,
The robot they asked for in felt that is washable
because they still believe her that ANYTHING'S POSSIBLE!
They still think that Mama makes all things from nothing
that all good things come from some felt, fleece, and stuffing
that whatever they think of, whatever they need,
they can get if they help, choose fabric, and plead.
So she gets off the bike, puts the dishes away
knits a few rows of sleeve to keep worries at bay,
And she prays in her head as she turns out the light:
"Happy Christmas to all! And to Mamas, sleep tight!"
early winter
afternoon after one storm
Never mind the calendar, winter has us in its grip. With two serious storms so far we've already had more snow than we did all last winter up to February, as I figure it. First on Saturday night and Sunday morning we got eight or ten inches topped off with some rain (which froze Sunday afternoon), then today we got another six plus inches of beautiful light fluffy snow, with more still falling as I write this.
The boys didn't get much chance to play in the first snow, what with the rain and then the crust that formed after the rain making it pretty tough for them to walk, but the timing today was much better. They went out this afternoon and when I came home at 4:00 Harvey was still out by himself, so I joined him and we played about an hour—long past dark, for sure. Who cares that it was just 14°F (7° with the wind chill!) he was warm as toast in his new snowsuit, so much so that he was happy to sit still for about 15 minutes and eat snow.
outdoorsman
I love all weather, but snowstorms are my favorite, and I'm glad to see that Harvey shares my enthusiasm, and I was charmed Saturday afternoon to hear his joyful proclamation that "the winter storm is starting!". I can't help but notice that when he about the age Zion is now he was already delighting in winter sports; though in his defense Zion is quite a bit smaller and probably feels the cold more. And I'm sure that with a few readings of Snowy Day and the promise of some (tame and safe) sledding he'll come around in no time!