snow | Good Times with Jess

What just happened?!

I have no issue with the three feet of snow, especially considering we didn’t lose power. The most challenging part was the third snow day.

I was mentally prepared for one. Then when we woke up Monday morning, I was mentally prepared for Tuesday to be a snow day too. But Wednesday really blindsided me.

Then someone said they didn’t think it was safe to go back Thursday.

It is NOT safe for them to stay home. They are at each other’s throats. I sent them outside Tuesday and I could still hear them screaming at each other.

Granted the first time I sent them out, they got stuck and were screaming for help.

They went out Monday as soon as the wind was dying down. It took them 20 minutes to make their way from the garage to the front door. The door could not be opened because of the three feet of snow.

I yelled through the closed door,

“Go back to the garage!”

They made it halfway and then there was more screaming. I had to put on my snow pants and rescue RB. They marched straight into the house. BB yelled at the living room,

“Alexa! Why did our mom send us out in the blizzard?”

“If you’ve been cooped up inside because of a blizzard, she probably wanted you to get some fresh air.”

BB nodded.

Everyone is much more amenable with Alexa than they are with me.

I didn’t want anyone to miss a moment. I tell them,

“This is the biggest snowstorm of our lives! I don’t know if we’ll ever see a bigger one!”

“Can we stay in?”

“Yes, but we’re going out tomorrow!”

The next day I spent hours shoveling the two front steps. My children tried to frolic nearby, but could only stagger around. BB struggled through snow up to her waist and RB tried to stay in BB’s footsteps or else she couldn’t go anywhere at all.

BB came to me,

“I hate to say this, but this is too much snow.”

“I know.”

“I would rather have seven to eight inches.”

Anything less than two feet is starting to sound very reasonable.

And not to go on and on about Heated Rivalry, but I need you to know I traded in ESPN for HBO Max. I feel very good about this.

My targeted ads know full well what I’m up to. My ad stream looks like this:

Cat litter box
Cat tree
Cat litter box
Sex pillow
Cat food
Cat litter box
Sex pillow
Cat tree
Sex pillow

After watching, rewatching and rewatching Heated Rivalry, I know full well that this sex pillow does not need to be for HER. There are a couple hockey players who would enjoy it too.

It took me an absurd amount of mindless scrolling to realize these weren’t just regular pillows. I told Captain,

“Litter boxes and sex pillows have taken over my feed.”

“Two things I never thought we’d have.”

Huh.

I’m not surprised he never thought we’d have a litter box. But a sex pillow? Doesn’t seem so far fetched.

We now own a litter box, a cat tree, a cat bed and many, many pillows. They’re just waiting for their chance to identify as a sex pillow.

If all goes well, our new, fluffy, baby kitty will be arriving after we get back from Austria. And believe it or not, we’re all excited for MORE snow.

Sending my children out into the blizzard.

I don’t know who’s more photogenic, the plow or our house. This is also the moment that our mailbox got plowed back in after we’d cleared it out.
I’ve decided we don’t need mail until May.

When Captain and I were whisking away on ski weekends with a bag thrown over our shoulders, I day dreamed about skiing with our future children.

Somehow I forgot to daydream about the impossibly overloaded luggage carts, overstuffed car, and children capable of putting everything on themselves when asked by their ski instructors, but capable of nothing when they see me.

I didn’t know that for ski trips each child would require two stuffies in addition to their lovie, plus RB’s huge music machine that is meant to attach to a crib, which we no longer need.

As our luggage cart obstructed the lobby, I took stock of the next two luggage carts. That family wasn’t traveling light either. They had a snoo bassinet and a full-size high chair.

We don’t need a high chair, so there’s room for extra stuffies.

This does include food for the week. Plus 3 ski jackets for me.
I own them, so if not now, then when?

This was a miracle year. It is the first year we all skied together the four of us. We rode the lift together and went down fun, blue-square trails. Not quite at the speed I would choose, but getting there.

The second best part after skiing was the outdoor hot tub/pool situation.

Skiing is how Captain and I met, and sitting in the hot tub together is a little bit of heaven. I sipped my beer and gazed at our children in the pool. I said to Captain,

“Can you believe this is how it started and now look at us?”

“Not an entirely unpredictable trajectory.”

Right.

I felt the same way after giving birth to BB. It was UNBELIEVABLE, yet millions of people have been giving birth for millions of years.

We’re just one of many couples falling in love in a hot tub and returning to it with the consequences.

My joy was splashed away the minute our children took to deep-sea swimming in the hot tub. There are age rules for hot tubs, but I don’t think that’s necessary. The only rule should be:

“Do you need goggles for the hot tub?”

“Yes?”

“YOU’RE NOT ALLOWED.”

And parents aren’t allowed in ski school. When I say it was amazing to ski together the four of us, it was amazing to ski together from 2pm-3pm.

And it was amazing to ski harder and faster with Captain the rest of the time.

I have perfected getting RB on the chairlift. It only took one time with her dangling down to make sure that didn’t happen again.

This is all thanks to wonderful instruction from ski school.

As I was putting BB to bed, she snuggled up to me and said,

“I’m lucky you’re my mama.”

After I was done melting, I asked,

“I’m lucky! What made you say that?”

“You’re not a mean ski instructor.”

“You had a mean ski instructor?!!”

“NO! The ski instructors are so nice. But some kids have to go from their really nice ski instructors to their mean, ski-instructor parents. I hear them yelling at their kids. And you just say, ‘Lead the way!'”

This is one of the very good reasons we pay for ski school. I can keep the mean, ski-instructor parent dormant inside me.

Of course the minute BB saw RB skiing, she didn’t attempt to hold her tongue. BB yelled,

“Turn RB! Lean forward. You have to stay forward!”

At which point RB told me,

“My tummy hurts, I need to go potty NOW.”

RB and I zipped down the mountain faster than BB would ever want to go. RB skied straight, leaned back, took full advantage of her wedge and we made it to the bathroom. We’ve got the skills we need.

Afterwards BB told me,

“At ski school they say: ‘No pee. No ski.'”

I have a new life motto.