Today all the snow in my yard melted. I am extremely grateful. This past winter of snow and freezing temperatures, staying indoors with my four rambunctious, wonderful, frustrating, loud, energetic, crazy kids has really tested my mothering skills. Stretched my sanity, my ability to cope. If spring doesn’t arrive soon I may have to take a self-imposed exile to a Caribbean island for a few months. The doctors suggest yoga, sleep, relaxation for my stress. I suggest a glass of wine and a bubble ba†h.
Spring is around the corner, I remind myself (just look at the calendar). But here in New England, all bets are off until May. In May, tulips and daffodils will have opened, and the likelihood of more snow will have passed. April, as T.S. Eliot reminded us, is the cruelest month, especially up here. March is another story, especially early March, where we are.
Temperatures today in the mid-50s. Breathing outside felt great. But I am a stoic New Englander. I am still hunkered down. And grateful we bought that small, dangerous, one-child-at-a-time trampoline for the basement. Great for energy-busting. Bad for Mommy’s worry-o-meter.
Tomorrow is another day of cool rain. I hope the saturated soil can make room for additional liquid or my basement may be in jeopardy. But if the temperatures stay mild, maybe I’ll let the kids play outside anyway, regardless of the rain. Mental health is more important than cleanliness. After all, mud washes off.
And winter never lasts forever. It just seems that way, sometimes.