How to Stop Time (or at least try to)

We are all well aware that we really can’t stop time. Especially when you forget to turn your clocks ahead, like I did this past weekend. And walked around all day Sunday, slightly off schedule! Good thing it was a Sunday! But, in general, time marches on. Or does it really?

I had a meeting planned with my husband, our lawyers and me for this Friday. An overwhelming amount of issues were going to be discussed. Everything from who gets which furniture all the way to a shared parenting schedule for my son. I was completely overwhelmed. And to add salt to an already open wound, I consulted my divorce books (yes, I have a variety of them too), to give me a heads up as to what to expect from this meeting. I had already sat down with a friend earlier in the week who had been through a meeting of this type. Although the mystery behind this meeting (technically called a “4-Way”) was revealed. I learned a lot of things that began to bother me. A lot. So I decided to do an internet search. I learned even more. The most annoying of which is that although my husband has to pay child support and alimony (now termed, “maintenance”), he gets to deduct both from his taxes at the end of the year while I would have to PAY taxes on this income! I now started to become enraged. Not only don’t I know WHY I am getting divorced; Not only won’t my husband even TRY to reconcile our marriage on our child’s behalf; But now I find out that I have to PAY to receive money from him!! No, thank you very much!! I don’t need his money THAT badly! Then came the straw that broke the camel’s back.

My husband was away on a business trip all last week. He came back Friday night. I saw behavior in my son that I have seen many times before when his father returns from a trip: Unbridled joy and elation. My son became giddy with happiness that his family was all together, including his dogs! He squealed with delight! He hugged his father, me, even the dogs! He chattered away in happy conversation, nonstop. Then it hit me, and I started to cry. This would be the last time that my son would experience the happiness of having his family together all under the same roof like this. I stifled my tears the rest of that evening, but sobbed the entire next day, when I was alone. I teared up when I spent Sunday with my son. I sobbed all through my session with my therapist Monday morning. I kept crying, “Why?? Why is this man doing this to his son?? Why is he doing this to me?? My son will never experience the elation he felt Friday night ever again!!” My therapist said, “I think you need to tell your lawyer this. I don’t think you are ready for this 4-Way meeting.” I told my therapist I would consider calling my lawyer.

All day Monday, crying off and on, I just kept replaying how happy my son was Friday night. And I made a decision. Both my son AND I need a reason why our lives are going to be destroyed by this man. We BOTH need an answer. So I decided to “postpone” (cancel) our 4-Way meeting. 

Since I made this decision in the evening, I sent an e-mail to my attorney Monday night. I had to pay a Shiva call (a visit to the family who had a loved one recently die in the Jewish faith), on Tuesday morning. I didn’t even have time to buy some baked goods for the family. I brought tissues instead. It was only the woman who’s father died who was home. She lost her mother only two months prior. She asked me to please distract her with conversation. She didn’t know about my divorce, so I told her. We both ended up using those tissues. I left when her youngest daughter would be coming home from preschool, because I knew her daughter would then be her distraction. But we bonded. We both now had two deceased parents. And I was able to comfort her knowing exactly how she felt. And she appreciated speaking with someone who not only lost both of her parents, but who was going through now an additional trauma. She said to me, “When you think that life can’t get any worse, it really can.” I nodded as she scooped her daughter up and hugged her close.

I spoke to my attorney as I walked home from paying my Shiva call. I began to cry even relating the story of my son to her. Attorneys can be stoic, but she is a Mom with a daughter who is my son’s age, so she instead consoled me and said she would take care of the wording when she let my husband’s attorney know that the meeting would be canceled. I thanked her profusely.

So for now, the clock has stopped with my divorce. I am not continuing to pursue it until I get a decent reason why my son will have to be traumatized and suffer. I’ve suffered enough. There is no reason he should have to suffer needlessly too.

Addendum:  In my blog from last week, I failed to provide contact information for the Motherhood Later Meet-Up speaker, Lisa Levine-Bernstein, MSN, RN, FNP. Lisa’s contact information is e-mail: parentingsuccessfulchildren@juno.com or by phone at (516) 423 - 9918.

Derby Disappointment

Last week, I attended a dinner / parenting workshop with some of the local, Long Island chapter, Motherhood Later Moms. It was a wonderful event, with an equally wonderful speaker, Lisa Levine-Bernstein. During Lisa’s presentation, among many other important topics, the issue of praise came up. I have read many times in my 20-odd parenting books that when you praise a child for any reason, it should always be specific. As an example, if your child comes home with a picture they drew at school, instead of saying, “Great job!” you should instead say, “Wow! I love the colors you chose for the butterfly!” It gives the child positive feedback regarding their work and makes it specific enough so that they can use that information in many other ways in the future.

We also discussed praise in terms of the amount, frequency and times when you know your child could do a better job. Lisa’s advice was to try not to over praise your child because then they begin to expect it. Try to dish out praise modestly and with sincerity. And the point that hit home for me was giving your child feedback when you know he or she could have done a better job. You want to tell them that although they did well, they could possibly have done better. This gray area has always been a difficult one for me.

My son belongs to our local Boy Scouts troop. And I must admit, although I have never attended a meeting, from what I gather from my husband and other parents, my son’s “pack” is highly disorganized and unstructured. So unstructured that while most other troops were given notice weeks ahead of time that the yearly Pinewood Derby Car event would be taking place this past weekend, my son’s “pack” was given less than 2 weeks notice.

Now, for those of you who know nothing about these Derby races, there is a lot of work involved, mostly of the parental type. You have to go out and buy a Boy Scout approved Derby kit. Then the parent has to not only have the access, but time and tools to carve out a car from a block of wood, sand it, paint it, seal it, decorate it, and, most importantly, make sure that it falls within a very precise weight range. And you can purchase weights to add to the car if it falls short of this range. Well, my son had all of a week and a half to work on this car with his father and grandfather. And as you can see, they created quite an impressive car given the short amount of time they had to complete it!

The day of the race came this past Sunday. My son was so excited, he had his full Boy Scout uniform on at 8 am! We didn’t even have to be at the event until 1 pm! But my son insisted on keeping his uniform on the whole morning and ate very little so that he wouldn’t “mess up” his clothes.

We arrived at the event just on time. His car had to be weighed to make sure that it met the weight requirements. It passed. Then there was more waiting. The older troops had their cars race first. And because this was a district race, each district had to have their cars race, slowly weaning out the cars that didn’t finish within the top three. And this arduous process continued, filtering down to the younger troops.

Since my son was in the next to youngest group, we literally had to wait close to 2 hours before his car was up. It was torture for my poor son. Then, at long last, it was my son’s turn for his car!

They announced which lane his car would be in; I had my video camera poised and ready. Then down came the cars in a flash! My son placed third! He was eligible to compete against other cars once the slower cars were weaned out!

His car was up again. He placed third twice in a row! This was a good omen because if you stay in the top three, you continue to race the other cars that also placed first, second or third!

Again, they called his name and slot his car would be in! I tried crossing my toes because I had to hold the video camera! Down came the Derbies!

My son’s car came in fourth place. His car was now disqualified. He was beyond devastated. He sat leaning against me, tears running down his sweet face, mumbling, “But I came in third twice! Why did they have to take my car out?!” He didn’t want to hear nor need explanations. He needed to cry. He needed to let out his frustration. He needed time to work through his feelings.

Then all of a sudden, I remembered back to the dinner I went to a few days prior. I recalled the speaker saying, “Emphasize the positive. Focus on how well your child did this time as opposed to previous times. Be a role model for perseverance rather than giving up!”

I took my son aside to a quiet bench. I gave him some water and let him allow his disappointment to slowly pass. When I felt he was ready, I asked him what position his Derby car placed last year. He replied fifth and sixth. I said, “Guess what?! You placed in the top three twice this year!! If you were able to accomplish that, do you think you might place higher next year?” He just shrugged his shoulders, not quite over his dismay. So I said, “Why don’t we find out when the Derby race will be next year way ahead of time? That way you, Daddy and Poppy can prepare in advance. We’ll also do a little research and try to find out what makes certain Derby cars faster than others. We will be much better prepared for next year’s event!” My son’s face brightened. “Mommy? Will you help me go on the computer when we get home so that we can find out how to make the cars go faster??”  “We certainly can, Sweetheart!” I replied. My son’s mood began to lift. “Mommy? I’m hungry now...can we get some pizza?” Off we went in search for some fuel for my son’s body. Because of the parenting session I attended, I felt pretty confident that I had pretty successfully fueled his soul! My “gray area” was becoming a little more colorful, too!

Judgment Call

I have a chip on my shoulder that I would like to remove. It happens to parallel one of our other Blogger’s blogs by Laura Houston. In her blog, she was appalled that mere acquaintances or even strangers have no qualms about walking right up to you and giving you advice on how to parent your own child. Completely unsolicited advice. From people you hardly know. I wholeheartedly agreed with Laura’s blog. But I want to take it a step further.

I am not even divorced yet, and already people who I hardly know are saying to me, “You’ll find someone wonderful one day. You are such a pretty lady and so intelligent and so lovely. You’ll find the right person one day.” Who said I want to have any more relationships at all in my future?? And although they are certainly well meaning, I haven’t even gotten through the grieving part of this trauma. Do I really want to jump into a relationship when I can still barely fathom that my marriage is coming to its demise??

I consider it rude to make assumptions about others regarding very personal matters. For example, people who walk up to a pregnant woman, who has two little boys with her, and these relative strangers say, “Gee, you must be hoping for a girl next.” Who are these people to make a judgment call like that??

There is even an extremely lovely older woman I know, who has a son going through a divorce, who wants to “have the two of you meet sometime.” I don’t want to meet anyone! I want to get my son and myself through this tragedy and try our best to establish a new life! I don’t need any other complications in my life. My plate is full, thank you very much.

I must say that none of my close friends have made statements of this type, and I sincerely appreciate their support and understanding without unsolicited advice. Hearing from acquaintances, “Oh, you MUST get out and mingle with the world! You’ll never know who you’ll meet!,” just doesn’t help my current emotional state. I wear my wedding band on my right hand, because I really like it and want to continue to use it. But the other day, at the train station, this completely uninteresting man kept trying to conjure up a conversation with me, all the while glancing at my left hand. At one point I slipped the ring from my right hand to my left and casually brushed my hair with my left hand. Our conversation came to a dead halt. At least the ring is useful in those types of situations.

What I really want to convey to the world is to please think twice before giving unsolicited advice. Whether it is parenting, pregnancy, miscarriage, divorce or any other very personal matter. It makes the receiver uncomfortable at best. It makes them feel as if they have to justify their actions at worst. And honestly, it is just plain rude and unnecessary.

Forty-eight percent of marriages end in divorce. I NEVER thought I would fall into that statistic, but I will. It would be nice for others to just offer a simple, “I’m sorry,” and change the subject. After all, would I ask you what color underwear you are wearing??

Becoming International

A couple of months ago, a flyer was sent home from my son’s school notifying us that International Week would be taking place this past week. I always love to volunteer at my son’s school. Firstly because he is so proud to see me there. Secondly, I like to be a presence in the school and give a little of my time.

For International Week, I chose to volunteer for three days. I was supposed to volunteer at the school’s Book Fair back in November, but I was plagued with pneumonia, so I felt a certain “obligation” to put in more time for this event.

Since we have a very diverse community, families are asked to let the school borrow and display items from their heritage. There were beautiful things from India, Korea, Argentina, England, Japan, China, Israel, Russia, and others. My son also wanted to contribute artifacts for International Week. However he didn’t want to donate anything from our family’s heritage. He wanted to bring in items from Canada.

My husband goes on a yearly trip to Canada and always brings my son a gift, such as a Husky stuffed animal, a hat, miscellaneous Canadian coins, etc. Because my son was so excited to be contributing, he not only wanted to donate items, he wanted to research facts about Canada and have the two of us present them to the class! I totally immersed myself into finding out more about Canada, my son by my side. I was going to make this an educational experience for him and bolster his self-esteem at the same time!

We spent a good part of the weekend researching facts about Canada by goggling “Canada” and “Kids.” A multitude of sites came up. We printed out the old and the new Canadian flags. We found a children’s word search puzzle about Canada that I made multiple copies of for my son’s class. We wrote up a simple list of facts about Canada that would hopefully interest his class for roughly 10 minutes. My son was elated!

Next, I had to get permission from my son’s teacher to do a mini presentation for the class. She responded that she would be delighted!

On Monday, my son carried his entire Husky dog collection, hats, and coins into school. He wanted to bring it directly to the area where items would be put on display, completely by himself.

I began my volunteering on Tuesday. I stationed myself right in front of the Canadian display. I was quite intrigued that the boys came over to admire the Husky dogs more than the girls! And they had many questions about Canada! Thankfully, because of the research I did with my son, I was able to answer most of them, as well as give them additional facts!

The next day, my son’s class was going to visit the International “Museum.” My son was beaming when he saw me! I took some pictures of him to remember his excitement of this day! Again, many boys came over to examine the Huskys. One little boy offered to buy one!

Once the morning classes left, I was allowed to go to my son’s classroom to give our presentation. I had the word search puzzles, the flags, and fact sheets for my son to read to the class and one for me to read as well. 

My son is a born presenter. There was not one flinch of apprehension; not one quiver of fear; not one moment of hesitation in this boy as he presented to his class! I was beyond proud! At seven years old, I remember sitting in the back of the classroom, hoping not to be noticed. If I had to come to the front of the class, I would have been shaking so much, I would have practically fainted. And here was my son, presenting facts and fielding questions from his classmates as if he were a politician!  I couldn’t have been more proud of my son!  I was proud that he took the initiative to take on this multifaceted project. I was proud that he was excited about presenting his finds. I was so proud that he could speak in front of an audience without an inkling of uneasiness! My son may have learning issues, but this kid is going to blow right past these issues and do whatever he wants to do in this world!

My next volunteer project is the school store. I’m curious see how he does as a salesman!

Loving Too Much

Is there such a thing as loving someone too much? And if so, where is the line that distinguishes this?

I ask this because the stress of my pending divorce and my son’s unattended to learning disabilities has gotten me so stressed out, I feel like I am holding on by a thread. When I discussed this stress with my various therapy professionals last week, each one of them replied, “Forget about your son. Focus on yourself.” Forget about my SON?? That’s like asking me to forget to breathe! Every ounce of stress in my life exists because of the love that I have for my son!! I am getting divorced because my husband and I couldn’t see eye-to-eye regarding my son’s learning disabilities, and he just wanted to brush them under the rug while I fought like heck to get my son the services and accommodations he needs and deserves! Is THAT loving too much?

I am stressed out every second I am with my son, trying to manage his behavior, his meltdowns, his rambunctiousness and how it affects not only the two of us but also the environment around us.

I am stressed out every second because every interaction with my son will ultimately hinge on the type and amount of custody I ultimately receive from my divorce because the divorce laws have changed drastically over the past 6 months.

So why are these professionals telling me to “forget” about my son?? If my son were not in the picture, I might or might not be getting divorced. I wouldn’t have any educational challenges to deal with. And if I were divorcing, it would be a piece of cake: This is yours, this is mine, have a nice life. My stress level would be minute compared to what it is now.

Where does that leave me as a Mother? I decided to research this area a little and find out if there is such a thing as loving your child too much. Not in an overindulgent, let your child rule your world type of excess. But fighting for your child and your child’s rights. Being their advocate. Making the best decisions possible type of love. Is there such a thing as too much loving in these areas?

I did a google search on this topic. Many articles focused on overindulging a child with material things or giving in to them too much. I wanted something deeper. I came up with a few provocative articles that go beyond the obvious.

In an article written by Jane Nelsen and Cheryl Erwin, titled, “Is It Really Possible to Love Too Much?," the authors state that, “Divorcing parents may lack knowledge about the effects their actions have on their children. These parents will claim they want custody, ‘Because I love them.’ Parents also love their children too much when they can’t see that they are doing ‘bad’ while claiming to do ‘good.’”

Another article by Rod Smith, titled, “Loving” Children Too Much" brings across some food for thought. He argues that children are loved too much when their wants are habitually placed ahead of the needs of the parents,” (okay, well maybe my own needs are not getting met because I am consumed by my son’s needs?). Smith also states that a child is loved too much when a parent gives up all of their former hobbies and interests and focuses all of their energy on their children,” (Umm...like the 20+ parenting books I have at my bedside instead of the novels I used to read, once upon a time?). Looks like we may be getting somewhere.

The third article is a blog written by Aaron Ben-Zee’v in Psychology Today. In this blog, he deduces that, “Even if love were concerned solely with disinterested care for the beloved (and this is not obviously so), there is still the question of what constitutes proper caring. Love is not a merely theoretical attitude; it has profound behavioral implications for our life. And if such behavior becomes improper, then the issue of whether one can love too much might arise.” Improper as in focusing on your loved one’s needs rather than on your own?

Now, I think I get what all of the therapy professionals were trying to elude to: I have completely abandoned my own essential needs - all the way down to eating - to care for and try to be the “best” Mom I can for my son. I wasn’t paying attention when the airline attendant was demonstrating that you need to put on your oxygen mask first before you place it on your child. I know now that I need to focus on taking care of me a little more, otherwise the oxygen will run out and I will be of no service to myself or for caring for my son. There needs to be a shift in priorities.

Now, if I could only let go of my wonderful, amazing little boy in my head for just a little while...

For you see, each day I love you more...

Today more than yesterday and less than tomorrow.

~ Rosemonde Gerard

Sundays, Sundays

Mothers think about their children (no matter how old) day & night. Mothers love their children in a way they'll never understand. Mothers will be there for their children when no one else will. Mothers would take a bullet, jump in front of a train or ask God to take them instead of their child. If you have children you love as much as I love mine, post this as your status.

I hate Sundays. I actually loathe Sundays. I even begin to hate Sunday on Saturday. Why would anyone hate a nice, lazy, weekend day?? Because my husband has designated Saturdays as his day to spend with my son and therefore I get to spend all day on Sunday with my son. 

Now, on the surface, that appears fair and equitable. But in reality, it is far from it. My husband doesn’t sleep at home on Friday nights. He comes by to pick up my son around 8:30 - 9:00 am and brings him home roughly 12 hours later. On the contrary, my husband leaves for the gym at 7 am on Sundays when my son just awakens, and lately has gotten home close to or after 11 pm. And many times, my son waits until my husband comes home to tell him something exciting or ask him a question. Unless it is an emergency, my husband has made it clear that he is unavailable to speak or text with during the day. And the few times I have tried, I have gotten a response hours later.

The quip above had been floating around Facebook on Sunday. Although I was having one of the worst days with my son, I still felt, deep down inside that this still applied. But my comment underneath was, “VERY debatable.” I was having a really rough day with my son. And with no help and also 2 dogs to care for, it made for an even more challenging day.

The day started with a urine soaked bamboo bath mat and equally soaked bathroom floor. Need I say more? My son was distracted by something and wasn’t watching where he was “aiming.” My husband had left already and I was left to roll up and dispose of the mat and scrub down the entire bathroom floor. All at 7 am, sans even coffee. I can assure you that my husband has never had to begin “his” day with my son this way. And there have been other days when I have woken up to changing my son’s urine soaked bedding and have had to strip his bed at 7 am and do loads of laundry and re-make his bed. My therapists all claim that this is all a result of the psychological dynamics going on within our household. Yet I am always the one left to do the “dirty work,” as most mothers are.

The day only became worse. My son had a bad cold, so I felt that he needed a day of relaxation. This “relaxation” day tumbled into a day of tantrums and meltdowns...both his and mine. He “lost” a Pokemon/Bakugan/Yu Gi Oh card. There were cards strewn all over his bed, his desk and the floor. I tried to remain calm and got some gallon size Baggies and black markers. We identified each bag for each appropriate set of cards and sorted the cards into their respective bags. This alone took almost an hour and a half. And did we find my son’s “lost” card? Of course we did! In his pants pocket as I was sorting laundry to do!

Then there were meltdowns. My son waits until he is starving before he tells me he is hungry and “can’t wait” for me to make his meal (a carry over from when he was a baby. There were never any whimpers of uncomfortableness when he needed a bottle. He needed it yesterday and warmed yesterday! And his ear-piercing screams let you know it!). Then he didn’t like what the meal looked like, thus tasted like. So there were more meltdowns (mine) and tantrums (his). I ended up telling him that if he could find food to eat in the house (I had to go food shopping badly), he could eat. If he didn’t want the meal I made him and he couldn’t find anything to eat, he’d have to go hungry. A bunch of hunger-induced nasty insults were hurled my way (I say “hunger-induced” because my son has never spoken to me that way before. And after this past Sunday, I can promise you, he never will again.)

The dogs were taking their daily naps and he pounced on them. They, in turn, snarled at him (I would too if someone woke me up from a sound sleep!). His feelings got hurt terribly, so he spent a good half hour crying on the living room couch.

And the day gradually ended with a comment from my son that, at this point, not only made me laugh at the absurdity of it, but also gave me time for myself! My son said, “Mommy, I think you need to go to bed earlier because you’ve been cranky lately.” So I gladly responded, “Well, then I better get ready to go to bed around 10 o’clock so that I get a really good night of sleep and not wake up cranky!” To my surprise, my son didn’t balk when I said that I couldn’t hold his hand as he fell asleep. I meditated myself to sleep in my own bed. And ultimately, really did get a good night of sleep! And I made sure that I was bright and chipper in the morning so that my son would think that my going to bed early...his idea...was working!

It is a good thing that we have plans for the next four Sundays so that we can at least get out of the house! But at least you now have a glimpse of how horrible Sundays can be for me and why I hate them so much.

How much longer until my son graduates from high school??

Snow Day

I loved Snow Days when I was a child! I would bundle up and first help my parents shovel our 125-foot driveway, curved uphill (what were they thinking when they bought that house??!). There were no plow services where we lived, some 30 odd years ago. But once that was taken care of (2 or more hours later, followed by a large mug of hot chocolate!), I would take my old fashioned, wooden toboggan and head to our local golf course, 3 houses down the road! What incredible fun it was for the local community to bring their sleds and swish down the hills into the powdery snow!

On other days, I would build a snowman on our front yard! I became so good at making them that passerbys in cars or sleds would stop to admire them! There were also snow angels to make and later, in my teens, learning to ski.

Besides the shoveling, however, I could never understand why my parents grumbled so much about the snow. Now, as an adult, I totally understand.

Here in the Northeast, we have had 3 blizzards within one month. Twice I had to stay up all night, when the snowfall was the heaviest, to shovel our back porch, steps and make a doggie alcove for our dogs to use. I was out there every 2 hours, for a half hour at a time. I was awake for 30+ hours during and after this past storm. And I actually measured 13 inches of snowfall with a yardstick at 4 am!

I am DONE with snow for the season now! Maybe forever! NOW I understand why my parents grumbled whenever a big storm came through!

Just pulling my car out of the garage is nearly impossible. There is a fence on one side and our house on the other, with 6-foot high piles of snow pressed up against the sides of the fence and house! My small size SUV barely squeezes through this snow tunnel!

Forget food shopping for lots of groceries. Try pushing a loaded grocery cart through slushy snow only to get home and find you have to very carefully unload these bags and pray that you won’t fall and brake something, because 5 people you already know have broken something by slipping on the ice. And they were all your age or younger!

Well, rather bore you with a whole laundry list of why adults all hate the snow, I decided to have you recollect once again, through a child’s eyes, the wonders of snow...my son’s!

During the day before last week’s Blizzard, we had gotten a call that there would be a two-hour delay for the district schools the following day. As I was shoveling another 8 inches of snow off of my back steps at 2 am, I couldn’t help but think, “This school superintendent should be out here shoveling with me! Two-hour delay my...foot! These kids can’t go to school tomorrow!!” Sure enough, two hours into a scant sleep, the call came: Snow Day!

The first thing my son said as he ran to the window and saw mounds of snow was, “Mommy? I have to go to school in all that snow?” I replied that, no, he had a Snow Day and would not be going to school. He excitedly shouted, “Yes!” then proceeded to lounge around trying to decide how to spend this glorious day. What I found most interesting is how in a matter of two elementary grades in school, my son has learned from his peers how valuable a Snow Day could really be! Last year he would mumble, “OK,” and not fully take in the value of this type of day. Now he had become socialized to the almighty, “Snow Day!” Cute to note how their school environment begins to permeate them!

“Um...Mommy? Where is the Igloo building kit you bought me?” Now why did I decide to purchase something that would ultimately drag me out of my warm and comfy home and smack-dab into a pile of white stuff that I had been trying to get rid of the night before?? Oh yeah, to provide fun and excitement for my son on a Snow Day. Right. “I think it’s in the garage, Sweetie...” hoping he would choose to lounge a little more before venturing out into the stuff I spent the night in. “Okay, Mommy! Let’s get dressed and make a Snow Fort! I want to make a fort rather than an Igloo!” Thank goodness my husband was listening to this conversation and said that he would take my son out since he knew I had been up all night shoveling. At least he still has a shred of compassion.

Out they went, bundled and full of the excitement I remembered as a child! My son worked on that Snow Fort as if he were building another Fort Knox! Even when he complained that his fingers were cold, he still wanted to continue. (Note: tenacious is definitely part of his personality! Both positive and negative for him, as far as traits go!). Once finished, he then wanted to make a snowman, but my husband convinced him to come inside the house to warm up first.

A little over an hour later, lounge time over, he came looking for me again. “Um, Mommy? Can we build a snowman now?” Now where is my dang husband when you need him? Never around. Okay, quick thinking...”Daddy said he would build the snowman with you (I did hear him say that to my son, whether in jest or not. I had to track this man down...). Let me call him and find out when he can build it with you.

I called. My husband grumbled, I reminded him that I was up all night shoveling so that our dogs could go out, he relented. “Daddy said he would be here soon. Why don’t we have a snack to give you energy to build that big snowman!” (Good thinking, Mom! Food! Food to eat for a purpose! Nice going!) I had him eating very slow-to-chew foods, such as apples, so that I could give my “missing in action” husband time to make it home.

To my immense relief, husband made it home just as my son and I were picking out fresh snow pants, gloves, and boots, as the first set was soaked. Good time to start a load of laundry. Out the door they went to make Mr. Snowman! However Mommy seemed to be missing some key elements: buttons for eyes, mouth, and belly; long carrot for his nose (see shopping disaster above); and an old scarf and hat (didn’t we have them available last year??). We improvised (see photo). Mr. Snowman was completed and my son’s Snow Day goals had been fulfilled!

I realized at the end of the day that becoming a parent brings about, practically overnight, a complex absurdity as to how time and situations differ from a child’s versus a parent’s perspectives. The most important entity that fuels our day - time - is so dramatically altered the second one begins to raise a child. Once upon a time, an hour was 60 minutes long, and time was fixed and predictable. But now, all time proportions have changed, due to a child’s world. And what brings joy and excitement to a youngster slowly becomes an obsticle and an extreme hassle once you become an adult.

People are constantly telling me that my son is going to be grown up in a blink of an eye. On a day-to-day basis, it is hard for me to internalize that “growth.” It just happens without my even being aware of it. All I can tell you is that now a “Snow Day” has so much more grand significance in my son’s life! And he can also build one awesome Snow Fort...all on his own!