Home Sweet Snowy Home

It is April 27th and it is snowing...again.

This has been a Minnesota winter only a polar bear would appreciate. Our school district had 10 snow days this winter - 10 of them! We've experienced record setting cold, followed by record setting snow. In fact, after today's snow, we will likely break the seasonal snowfall record.

Last Saturday, we finally opened up the backyard fire pit. It was a glorious Easter weekend with temperatures in the 80's. We spent every moment possible outside, letting the cold and gloom of the last several months fade away from our memory, focusing just on the pleasures of warm weather.

Fast forward to today and the winter coats are out again.

This story may sound like a rant, a shaking of my fist at Mother Nature and her cruel intentions.  But surprisingly, it is something else.

This morning, while the big flakes started falling, Bereket and I snuggled for hours under a pile of blankets watching a Hallmark movie. We had nowhere to be, there was no rush to start the laundry. My only need to get up from the couch was to warm my coffee.

We had plans to go to the movie theater and make a quick run to Trader Joe's. I thought, "time to start the day" as I finally made my way to the workout room, leaving Bereket with a list of chores to do while I was in the basement. She found me 45 minutes later, 3 pages of construction paper in her hands and exclaimed,  "I have a surprise for you!"

I knew this surprise meant that she hadn't touched the laundry in the basket upstairs (despite overhearing her ask Alexa to play "laundry folding songs").

But when I stopped what I was doing to focus on what she had written, I discovered the most beautiful treasures.

I was speechless for a moment, and then I reached out to hug her. "Gross, Mom! You're all sweaty from exercising! Oh, and you better not throw these away!" I promised her I never would.

Bereket's snow day creativity was just getting started. She decided that Jason and I needed a spa day. She had Alexa play relaxing piano music as she gave her daddy a foot massage and a "man's" manicure. She then gave me a mini facial and painted my nails. After our "treatments", Bereket turned out the light so we could nap in our relaxed state of being (two hours later, Jason's nap is still going strong).

Rather than get ready to go out into the cold and a crowded theater (Avengers End Game just came out), I suggested we end our day like we started it, cuddling on the couch. I would make spaghetti. Bereket said that sounded good to her.

While I am writing this, Bereket has loudly rejected her pasta, proclaiming she will not eat another bite after finding a mushroom in the sauce.  Jason will also be disappointed when he sees the sauce has no meat in it.  But that's how families roll even on the best of days. And since I'm certain this will be the final snow day of the season,  I'm ready to find another sappy Hallmark show to watch with my girl.

She Sleeps in Paris

Today when Bereket got off the bus, she walked straight to the kitchen sink to wash off the day's school germs (per her mamma's excellent training) and began to warm herself up a piece of cheese pizza for an after school snack. "Those aren't the clothes I laid out for you last night." I commented looking at a frilly shirt with see-through arms. Bereket replied, "I have my own style."

I work an early shift and rarely get to see Bereket before she gets on the school bus. Lately, almost every day I come home, the clothes I picked out the night before are still in a neat pile on her vanity bench or shoved carelessly into the organizer in her closet - a quiet "no thank you" to mom's idea of what would be a good choice for school.

As I write this, Bereket is intently watching videos on her Kindle, headphones on, oblivious to the fact I am studying her while I write. I am looking at her hair in a cool "messy" style bun on the top of her head. Suddenly it is always in funky pigtails on the sides of her face or some other hairdo she's come up with. In fact, the only help she'll let me give her with her hair is driving her to the salon or flat ironing it if she gets it wet. Otherwise, she handles all the combing, nightly braiding and styling herself. To her credit, she hasn't had a knot in her hair in months.

Oh, there are other changes, too. Her obsession with her collection of makeup she purchased herself at the dollar store (dark blue eye shadow and tangerine lip gloss - and mascara she sneaks from my bathroom cabinet). Her makeup often gets a side smile from strangers we pass on the street or our waitress at dinner. My husband thinks she's way too young to be playing with makeup, but as long as she was washes it off at night, I'm actually o.k. with her self expression.

The signs our girl is growing into "the next phase" go way beyond appearance. She's gotten crazy tall. Her dentist says she needs braces. She occasionally pauses to ask, "How was your day, Mom?" when she gets home from school. And we learned from her teacher that "girl drama" can start in 3rd grade.

But the biggest sign of growing up is that after 7 1/2 years of needing to be cuddled by her mamma every night to fall asleep, she can now suddenly crawl into her brand new big-girl bed all by her herself. She nestles into her Paris-themed pillows and comforter and stays there All Night Long. She doesn't need to reach out and feel that I am near. She doesn't need that anymore.

Today, my boss announced that he was starting to plan for retirement. He got emotional talking about his grandchildren turning 10 and 6. They live out of state and he wants to spend more time with them, time is ticking away just too fast.

Today, I feel his sentiment. I remember just like yesterday the moment Jason and I learned our baby could walk (at Dulles International Airport bringing her home). Now she is preparing to run two more 5K races.  Where did those cute chubby legs go, now so long and lean?

If there was just a pause button...

Tomorrow, a man is coming to pick up Bereket's little girl bed after snapping it up on Craig's List. Our conversation over the phone led me to believe that he might be starting over again after a divorce. He said, "It's just me and my daughter now." Perhaps he would like to turn back time, too. While that isn't possible, I hope his daughter will find delight in the bed my own child never cared to sleep in.