5 Feb
2014
Posted in: parenting
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Weather and Attitude

icicle weather and attitude

I’ve bundled my kids up and sent them off to school in freezing temperatures the last two mornings. It’s not the first time or the last time I’ll go through the routine of checking for double-layered coats, snow boots, heavy gloves, and thick hats.

This morning when I woke it was a frigid -17° F…yes, far below zero. That doesn’t include the wind chill (always significant in Casper), which puts the air actually feeling like -34°. By 8:30 a.m., the temperature was -8° and it didn’t get above zero today. It’s physically painful to be outside in this, even for a few minutes. The crisp, Arctic air hurts your skin and burns your lungs.

This cold weather affects my attitude something fierce. I want to stay cocooned in my bed. When I finally drag myself up, I want to head straight for the couch and wrap myself in blankets while I mindlessly watch television or read a book while consuming an inordinate amount of hot beverages. I find myself crabby on mornings like today. I can’t be alone. More Americans were under some sort of weather advisory last night than in all of 2013, according to a report on the SiriusXM Morning Mash Up.

Piles of winter weather clothing

I’ve never lived anywhere except Wyoming. I should be familiar with our schizophrenic winters. There may be lots of snow, or not. Temperatures could linger below zero for days, or hover in the 40s. Maybe the wind is gusting with hurricane force, or blessedly calm like today. As soon as the calendar turns to February, I know I will require massive attitude adjustments to successfully make it through that month. It happens every year. Winter is exhausting. By the time that groundhog dares to come out of his hole on Feb. 2, I’m done. There WILL be more snow and more cold. I will have to go about daily life as if my rear-end isn’t freezing, and I’m most definitely not happy about it.

My crabbiness is only over-shadowed for my nostalgia of the early years of my boys’ lives. I remember those cold mornings when we had nowhere to be. The kids would emerge from their warm beds, red-cheeked and messy-haired. Blankets would be pulled to the nearest heating vent, and they would gradually warm themselves. Hours would be spent building block towers and huddling under sheet forts. We would bake because I crave carbs and sugar when the temperatures head south. I miss those days of less obligations. My daughter and I still have those precious hours together on bitter days. We spent parts of yesterday baking and reading under blankets warmed in the dryer, but both of us were missing our boys. I know the days will quickly slip by and the temperatures will eventually change, but that knowledge rarely helps me to shake my poor, weather-induced attitude.

Six more weeks…right Mr. Punxsutawney Phil?

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