Thursday, March 13, 2014
Snowball fight. The week drags on.
Just get me through this day.
And the cat too, if it's not too much trouble.
If a day was made for those beautiful four words, "This too shall pass", just maybe today was it.
Truthfully, in the grand scheme it's all fine. we're in a warm house. Our power stayed on. A few swipes with a broom cleared the satellite dishes, so we're connected to the outside world, even if we can't get there ourselves.
Tuesday we got out to the library after a tough negotiation that ended with no winner. Getting Jay to leave the library involved a similar level of stress. He did get a nap, and in all the day was not too bad.
Yesterday we braved a snowstorm, trading an hour of tumbling (which we couldn't get to) for ten minutes in a grocery store. We made it home safe and sound. We ate yogurt as if it were a fresh kill on the Serengeti. I swear I heard bones crunching. Eventually Jay sacked out on my lap around 3 pm. By the time I got him down on his blanket on the floor, I had about ten quiet minutes before Laura walked in. She was home early from work. So much for a nap or "Jeff" time. This morning the roads were awful again. It happens this time of the year, especially at the end of a rough winter. Snow plowing budgets were shot a month ago. Instead of keeping up with big storms, officials tell us to stay home and they clean it up after it's all done. So rather than go to daycare today, Jay is here again.
We had a good morning. We left the TV off, and played with crayons and paint. I made Angry Birds out of play-doh. Jay got out the animal matching cards made for him by Aunt Billie, and we played with those. We changed three diapers without a single real battle. Diplomacy works, at least sometimes. It just takes more patience and time than seems to be readily available. After writing yesterday's post, I decided to listen to myself. I refused to allow him to smell anxiety or impatience.
Somewhere in this room there are four dessicating Angry Birds and a crusty green pig. That'll be fun to find.
Ewww. Excuse me. I just heard a really nasty splatting sound. It came from where Jay is crouched by the coffee table. Time to work on how HE really wants a freshy. Gotta work fast, the blue cloud is rolling this way. Be right back...
Make that four diapers, in increasing levels of nastiness. We're still passing this GI bug around. It has flattened me this week. I'm tired, dehydrated, and my hands are raw from washing. And, maybe it has crept back to Jay. Oh joyous day! We had a bit of a chase this time, but got to take his thirty-inch tall Bruder crane truck onto the changing table with him, so we were good. The blue cloud lingers, but we've had worse.
Laura called at lunch time to let me know the roads were still in bad shape. So, I scratched plans to go for an afternoon drive. We read a few books, and I spent about two hours selling the idea that building snowmen outside would be more fun that reruns of Wild Kratts. We settled on one episode, then we would go out.
We were out for almost an hour, which I took as a victory. It was 18 degrees, and his little face got pretty red. After this new snow, the wall at the end of the driveway exceeds eight feet in height. Within the next three weeks we need to get a couple hundred bales of hay into the shed beyond that wall. Yeah. Looking forward to making that happen.
So, what had been a heavy, wet snow had dried out as the temperature dropped. It was now powdery, and not good for the creation of snowpersons. Jay picked up a chunk of packed snow, and wandered around the driveway saying, "I have the head, Daddy. I have the head." It was more than a little creepy. I found a couple of larger pieces, stacked them, and he laid the head in its resting place.
Then, he initiated a snowball fight. With a football sized wedge of rock-like snow. Thankfully he could only get it waist-high, and he bounced it off my calf. Apparently that was hilarious, and he fell over laughing. I popped him on the leg with a small snowball, and it was on. He kept coming at me with huge artillery, barely able to walk under the load. Each time he giggled himself senseless. It's contagious, of course. Eventually we crashed together onto the snow.
Jay looked over at the sidewalk, or where the sidewalk was yesterday before the storm. It was under three feet of drifted snow. "It's all gone!"
Yup, it sure is. Wanna dig it out? He did. So, we got out shovels and dug, me pitching load after load off to the side, while Jay scooped snow from the sides and filled it back into the middle. We reached the front door, and decided it was time to go back in and warm up.
He wanted to bring a snowball inside. A boy did that in the story we read last night- "The Snowy Day." The book is the winner of the prestigious Caldecott Medal, one of the highest honors for children's books. So, from that book my child learned about snowball fights and bringing snow into the house. Cool. I briefly tried to talk him out of it, then decided to let it be an experiment. The snowball is in a clear bowl on the kitchen table. I can't believe how long it's taking to melt.
I made Jay his first-ever cup of "hot" (warm) cocoa. Sadly, he wasn't impressed. It's a good thing there is some pretty obvious evidence that he's my child; his lack of love for chocolate is certainly contrary. We sat at the kitchen table, me, Jay, and the snowball, and talked about our time outside. Then he leaned over, placed his cheek on the snowball, and said "Awwwwwww... I love you."
Not to me.
To the snowball.
So, we went through the day sans nap. We paid for it tonight. Getting him changed for bed was a long, noisy process that involved kissing and biting some pretty stinky toes (given this week and the taste in my mouth, and the fact that Laura had an easy day at work, it may be a single-malt night). The boy will get a bath tomorrow.
We made it, he passed out dead to the world halfway through Curious George and the Costume Party, and the cat is still healthy and as happy as he can be. It passed. Tomorrow he'll be off to daycare while I check out a preschool in West Pawlet, Vermont. We're leaving the house early, which means we're up early.
Bedtime. 'Nite all...