Last Friday it rained all day - so I had to think of a good way to entertain the kids and myself. I started having flashbacks of last winter and the cabin fever that sets in here in Utah and I just had to get out. Since becoming a mother I have come to despise the wintertime. Before kids, winter in Utah meant feet of fresh snow, my snowboard, snowshoeing, cabins, sledding, and on and on.
As a matter of fact, I remember the winter when I was pregnant with my first and I told my husband that he should go back country snowboarding. He hadn't been out all season and it would be fun for him. Why should he suffer just because I was confined to areas that had a close radius to a bathroom?
Well, he went, he came home and I hadn't moved much, except that I had locked the door to the bathroom since I was camped out near the toilet. (I think I set a record - I threw up 23 times in 24 hours). But instead of feeling sad about my nauseous state, I had tears welling up in my eyes at the thought of the fun that he had that day. I had changed from nice wife "You should go snowboarding sweetie, get out and have some fun" to the evil pregnant wife who could barely speak. Of course he stood outside the door confused since I could barely muster words - except to say "I hope you had fun (sob), I hope the powder was great (sniff sniff), actually, don't even tell me about it (voice cracking), it will just make me want to vomit all over you!"
Needless to say post kids the cold months resemble something like this: me, tapping the windows, staring into the gray sky and plotting which germ infested indoor retreat I dare to take my children to. I hope that this changes this year as I think that my 2 year old might have the coordination to brave the park in a snowsuit this year.
Some of you might ask why I am thinking about these things this early - it's only mid September! We had a little cold spell the past few days and it brought back a little bit of winter PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder).
Well, I'm slowly but surely getting around to the real point of my story! Last Friday I took my kids to one of the malls that have a little kiddie land for them to play at since the weather had turned so cold on Friday. It's kind of an odd place, but it kills the time. It's a big room filled with all kinds of giant rubber desserts: an ice cream sandwich, a big spilled soda pop, a cupcake, a big ice cream cone etc. It was perfect, no one was there, and the kids could run and jump between the giant confections. They started calling me out to jump from goodie to goodie with them.
I sat - content to sit. I had a fairly intense dialogue in my head over what I should do. I'm not going to lie to you, I have looked longingly on a visit or two thinking about jumping from the spilled soda pop to the ice cream sandwich, just wondering if I could make it. But it would take so much energy, and adults weren't allowed to jump on the stuff. I was clearly taller than the little ice cream man-measuring guy at the entrance.
But my internal dialogue got a little more involved - Why shouldn't I be jumping and playing on this stuff with them? Why as an "adult" have I slowly morphed into the mom who would rather rest my weary body on the sidelines - was it really inappropriate for me to jump all over the stuff?
Well to make the long story just a little longer - I gave in, I got up, I jumped from munchie to munchie, and it was actually funner than hanging on the sidelines cleaning out my purse. And furthermore I plan to continue breaking a few more appropriate height and weight rules as we embark on our cold weather activites this winter.
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