Just as no Autumn is complete until you see me in the Apple Orchard, no winter can pass without pictures of us goofing off in the snow.  This winter has involved less goofing off, and far more shoveling, but nonetheless, we’re clocking serious hours in the great outdoors.  The great, cold, snow-covered outdoors.  It started snowing in early December, and while we’ve had a couple of melt-offs, it really hasn’t stopped.  2 weeks ago, we had a 48 hour span where the snow never stopped falling.  You’d think we’d be buried, but the snow often falls lightly here. The hard part?  Schools don’t close.  Well, at least ours doesn’t.  The school commute in an 1″ or more takes an hour, one way.  My joke is: I need less than an 1″, or over 10″ to fall.  School is open, and we can get there, or there is no way the school can crank the doors open, and it will close.  3″?  Well that just jacks up my entire day.

Last week Sara begged me for a shovel, and to my enthusiastic surprise, THE GIRL CAN MOVE SNOW!  She probably cut a third off my average driveway shovel time.  Anyone living in a snowy climate knows: shovel that stuff or it turns to packed ice, turning a sloped driveway into a great big minivan slide.  When I asked Sara where she learned to shovel, she replied, “They pull out shovels at recess and my class plays snowplow on the playground.”  NOW THAT’S WHAT I’M TALKING ABOUT!! Those are my private school education dollars at work folks.  Greg and I did a happy dance at the thought of her class clearing the bike paths on their playground.  That’s good stuff.  What’s next?  Laundry folding?  I can only dream…

Kelly refuses to admit the snow might impede her normal outdoor activities.  After this massive trike accident, she sat dejectedly, eating snow.  It was a setback, as she has finally warmed to the idea that playing outside in the winter can be fun.  We average about an hour a day in the great outdoors, but I have a limit: it must be above 15.  Less than that, and it’s a quick in and out.  The kids are far hardier than I am, so I dress for sucess.  A very well-dressed and quite hip late 20-something girl gave me the up-and-down eye at the grocery yesterday, and I wanted to yell, “WHAT?  Do you think I don’t KNOW I am wearing a head to toe parka and boots?!  Like…I’m UNAWARE I’m in a flannel shirt with no make-up?  Honey, enjoy that pretty tiny white coat with matching hat now…because SOMEDAY, you’ll wake up before dawn in your snow covered minivan, children and snowsuits and backpacks and lunches in tow….and you’ll forget your attire ever coordinated.” It’s rude of me to assume she was judging…but really, we all looked at Moms at that age and swore we’d be different.  We…had…NO…IDEA….

Trying to prove me wrong about the dangers of biking in the snow, Kelly has carried that thing to every part of the yard.  You’ve got to give her credit for tenacity, and high-five her wisdom for leaving her big bike parked in the garage. Little by little, she’s turning into a proper Hoosier: she never leaves the house without her hat, and she has names for her different boots and sets of gloves.  We’re almost to the point in the winter when I throw anything that’s clean into backpacks, without regard for size, match, or material.  In a week or so I’m sure Sara will jump into the car and say something like, “Why did you pack saran wrap in my backpack this morning?” “I couldn’t find your scarf, so I grabbed anything that wrapped.  I threw in some socks too…did those keep your hands warm?”  Here’s a good Indiana common sense piece of wisdom for you:  Never trust a woman in a gigantic parka, stomping around in snow covered boots, driving a minivan.  We lost our sense of humor about 15 school commutes ago.  Just give us a cup of hot coffee and let us be…we’re busy surviving another Indiana Winter.