Last Week

Evan was sick.

Again.

She had the awful, fever-inducing, hacking-cough virus that's been spreading amongst the pre-school set like wildfire.

Poor kid stayed home all week.

Thus, so did I.

Yeah.

I must say it was a bit too quiet around here (except for all the coughing and nose-blowing, that is) until Wednesday -- when a blizzard pounded our city, dropping an ungodly amount of snow:


Mid-afternoon Wednesday-- the view looking up the street from my front window.


Late in the day, my next door neighbor shovels while the snow keeps coming...

Now, along with all that blowing and drifting snow came something else.

Something quite wonderful.

"It's a SNOW DAY!" Joseph shouted, leaping in the air upon hearing the news at 6 AM Wednesday morning.

"AWESOME!!"

A momentary pause.

A tilt of the head.

A smile.

And then:

"I'm goin' back to bed."

Funny how priorities change when you're in middle school.

But then, it's also funny how some things haven't changed at all:


My well-rested son puts the finishing touches on the fort's interior.


Joseph and his trusty assistant enjoying the fruits of their labor.


Even Tim couldn't resist the lure of a snow-day fort.

The four of us spent the rest of that morning and a good part of the afternoon lying inside the fort reading books by the likes of Patricia Polacco and Dick King-Smith.

Later, making up some stories of our own.

A Belated Post

Happy New Year!

(And a very late Merry Christmas!)

And to the many folks who commented on my previous entry:

Thank you.

Your kind thoughts and wonderful suggestions meant a great deal to all of us.

Just looking across the street, at that empty house, still hurts.

But the holidays -- along with record snow fall -- have given us some wonderful distractions.

There's been much visiting with friends-- and playing with some really cool Christmas gifts (Joseph's big surprise was a PS2 from Gramma; Evan's was a "Plasma Car" from one of my sisters).

Oh yes, and there's been sledding.

A lot of sledding.

In fact, not only did we hit the big sled hill in our neighborhood almost every day last week-- but, because Ryan got the (inspired) idea to build a mini sled hill in our backyard, we're having more winter fun than a family has a right to.

See for yourselves...

We're Diggin' This Snow

As most of you know, we midwesterners got smacked with (not one, but) two major snowstorms last weekend.

The result?

Massive amounts of heavy, wet, drifting snow.

Sounds awful, doesn't it?

Well people, my kids could not have been happier.

You see, whenever we got snow this winter, bitterly cold temperatures kept it light and powdery.

Fine if you're into skiing-- but if you like to throw snowballs, or build things with it, the stuff is worthless.

Needless to say, my children (and their friends) took full advantage of the awesome conditions-- the fabulously sticky snow, and the warmer (low 30s) temps...


This year, insisting on making a "no-adult-help" fort.

Thus, they:


Burrowed through the front of a snow bank, made a turn inside...


and tunnelled out the other end.

Yes, they were all quite pleased with their handiwork.



Oh, and since the kids wouldn't let me help them with their fort, I made a snowman instead...


Yeeee-Hah!

Something Cool

So how exactly does one attempt to pull oneself out of a funk?

Strategy #1:

Seek the support of those who understand exactly what you're going through.

Check.

And thank you.

Strategy #2:

Do something really cool with your kids during your son's "spring" break.

Well, a trip out of town just wasn't a good option (aside from the whole paying for said trip, it's snowing like bejeezus outside).

There was always indoor mini-golf, bowling, games of chess, checkers...

Fun? Yes, absolutely.

But-- Really Cool?

Uh... no.

We had to do something, because I did not want the visit with the endo to be the highlight of Joseph's vacation. Sure, we spent the rest of that afternoon at a bookstore.

But come on.

Soooo, here's what I came up with:

Take the kids to a local bar to see a rock concert (now that's something we've never done before).

At 11:30 in the morning.

Some might wonder who would play at a small club at such an early hour.

And really, who would Evan enjoy seeing (besides the Wiggles)?

Heck, who would Joseph like to see at his very first rock concert (besides Green Day or The All American Rejects or Fallout Boy)?

Bo Bice, that's who.



All right. Yes, I admit it. I watch that damn TV show.

For the last two seasons I've been totally sucked in. Though never satisfied with who "America" picks.

Yeah, I wanted Bo to win it. Probably best he didn't though, because then he'd likely never play a venue as small as the one we visited today.

Of course, the kids love the show. You should see Evan cheering on her favorites (Bo last year, this year it's Chris-- man, she just loves those rockers).

Anyhow, the kids were ecstatic when I proposed the outing. And happily, the bar was only 15 minutes from our house, thus the journey through all that snow was not bad at all.

The only tough part was wondering if we'd get in.

Waiting in the bar's vestibule, hoping to be lucky enough to get a seat inside.



And yes, we were very lucky-- bar stools above the dance floor less than 30 feet from center stage. How cool is that?



(Note the "cheese curds" on the "Bo Bice Lunch Menu"-- a nice Wisconsin touch. And no, we did not partake.)



So, how was Mr. Bice?

Well, the man was all right (she types with a smile). Just a really fun show. A very tight band. And yes, this guy can sing.



I only wish I could have gotten snaps of the kids rockin' out, but I was too busy rockin' out right along with them...

I ask you, does it get any better than a wad of gum and your first concert t-shirt?



Postscript: To the many Bo Bice Fans who've found this entry.

Thought ya'll might like to know that fame has not gone to the man's head.

Before the show yesterday, in the midst of a snowstorm, Mr. Bice stepped off his tour bus (wearing a short leather jacket and a knit hat) with his dog, and traipsed across the club's snow-covered parking lot.

For several minutes he stood out there, just waiting for his dog to do his business.

Didn't send a roadie to do the job. Did it himself.

A Rare and Wonderful Thing

I woke up this morning, came downstairs, and had breakfast with Joseph. We talked about how amazing it looked outside-- but mostly about how much fun would be had after school.

Just playing in the stuff.




It never once occurred to me that school would be cancelled.

After all, in the five years we've lived here, there's never been a "Snow Day."

Thus after breakfast, Joseph and I simply stood staring out the window until it was time for him to leave for the bus stop.

I watched as my boy bundled up; saw him strain to get both straps of his backpack up over his now bulky shoulders.

Then I kissed him goodbye, and watched him trudge through the several inches of snow that now covered the front steps, stopping to say goodbye to Ryan-- who was engaged in the futile pursuit of clearing our driveway and sidewalk.

You see, while not anywhere near the storm that struck the northeast this past weekend, this snowfall would soon develop into something pretty darn nasty.

(I would later hear the words "blizzard conditions" coming from local weathermen on every station.)

Thus it was, before I even sat back down to review Joseph's overnight numbers, that the front door flew open.

My son bounded in, arms raised, fists pumping, cheeks bright red, hat and coat covered in snow, and all the time shouting:

"It's a Snow Day! It's a Snow Day!"

"What?! What?!"

"Mom, Laura told me. She saw it on the news this morning. All the schools in the city are closed!"

Joseph leapt up and down while shouting these words, making no attempt to contain the sheer joy of having been given this news.

"This. Mom. Is UNBELIEVABLE!"

Given that the boy has never in his life had an official Snow Day, the news was indeed, unbelievable.

So what have we been doing? Well, Joseph is (no surprise) outside playing in the snow with a friend, after a morning of Trouble...




Some major fort construction...




Followed by the adventures of "Pilot Joe" and his trusty sidekick, "Super-Nurse Sara" (yes, that's Evan-- responsible for taking care of all sick animals, while fighting off various bad guys).




Sorry, no photos of "Super Anna." (Uh yes. That would be me.)

And now, while I get ready to bundle up Evan so that we can further enjoy this fine Snow Day, I can't help but shake my head and laugh as I remember the weather here just two days ago-- Valentines Day.

A day of sunny skies and a high of 50 degrees.

A day of kids without coats...







And here I thought spring was just around the corner...




Umm... maybe not.

Sledding 101

Ready...



Set...



Go!



Now that's what I'm talkin' about.

Shooting Down

Late yesterday afternoon, just before sunset, Joseph and I went sledding alone together for the first time in years. We drove to the largest sled hill in our neighborhood-- a massive, two-tiered bowl behind the local middle school. I'd never been there before-- when he's gone to this site in the past, Ryan was usually the one to accompany him.

Yeah, I'm a bit of a chicken when it comes to sledding.

So it was no surprise that, as I parked our car on a side street next to the school and got my first look at these hills from a distance, I was scared.

Aside from the much tamer hills at a nearby park, I really hadn't gone down anything like these since I was a kid.

It was 4:00 as we hiked across the snowy field that lead to the base of the steepest hill in the bowl. And Joseph grew more excited with each step we took.

"Mom, when I came with dad last year we usually went down the longer hill. This one kind of freaks me out, but today I think I want to try it."

Deep breath. "Okay, let's give it a go"

"Oh, and Mom?"

"Yeah?"

"Sometimes people kind of crash into each other here. You kinda can't avoid it."

"Oh."

So we climbed. Up, and up.

And up.

Until we reached the top, turned and looked down. At this point, we both paused a moment.

"Are you sure you don't want to go over to that longer hill?" I asked, only slightly hopeful, thinking:

What if he crashes into someone? Man this is high! And steep...

But, at the same time:

Boy, look at these people... you just fly down this thing. This could be really fun...

Without giving me an answer, my son leapt onto his bright red toboggan and shot straight down, hit a bump midway, caught some air, then continued down and across the field we had just traversed.

I was next.

Gently, carefully, I lowered myself onto the round "snow tube" we'd borrowed from a friend. It felt comfy, like something you'd sit upon while floating down a lazy river.

"Come on Mom!" Joseph shouted, while slowly making his way back up the hill.

"Just go! It's all clear."

Not wanting to disappoint my son (and really, a bit excited by the prospect of the virtual free fall I was about to experience), I pushed off.

Straight down, I went (while my stomach flew up). Then over that same bump.

And my God, for a split second I was flying.

And screaming.

And gulping mouthfuls of snow as I reconnected with the hill, spun around, and rode down the remainder of the slope backwards.

When I finally came to a halt, many, many yards from the base of the hill, I couldn't stop laughing.

So, for the next 45 minutes, Joseph and I took turns with the toboggan and tube. And rode down together on the toboggan countless times -- me sitting in back, holding tight, with my son leaning against my chest. And every time we hit bottom, we'd look at each other-- snow covering our jackets, our hats, our faces-- and just laugh.

We hadn't laughed together that much in a long time.

As we climbed the hill after our umpteenth ride down, a boy hiking next to us called over to Joseph.

"Hey, I know you. You go to Lincoln."

"Yup, that's right." Joseph responded. Then the other kid climbed on up ahead of us.

"Hey," I said, "Are you embarrassed to be here with your mom?"

"No. Not at all. Mom, it's more fun. Let's go!"

Continuing our trek up hill, I suddenly felt light. Light as air.

Again, we shot down. But this time, after we came to a halt, Joseph didn't stand up.

"Mom, I'm feeling a little low."

"When did you start to feel it?"

"Just before we got on the sled, but I figured it'd be better to wait til we got to the bottom."

He was right. The meter was in the car. Parked what seemed like miles away.

"Okay, I'm going to run and get the meter. "

I ran, through several inches of snow that felt like quicksand.

All the time, thinking:

It's getting dark. What if he's really dropping fast. And he's alone. Please don't let this be bad...

And as I got to the car, I realized that I had the glucose tabs in my pocket.

Oh my God.

I got the emergency bag, turned and saw Joseph sitting across the field-- waving, to let me know he was okay.

When I made it back to him, I told him to stick a finger in the snow, then wipe it on my denim snow pants. As he removed his glove, his hand shook even before his finger hit the snow.

27

"Okay, maybe the water from the snow diluted your blood. Let's just do a dry finger from your other hand."

It had to be a mistake.

21

"Mom, I'm scared." He looked fine, except for the shaking. And the fear.

"Honey, I'm gonna have you eat this tube of cake icing. Then we're gonna have some glucose tabs."

He sucked down the icing fast, then gobbled down four glucose tabs.

After several minutes, I just wanted to get him home. Out of the cold. The crowd on the hill had thinned considerably, as a thin sliver of moon shone bright in the clear sky overhead.

It was quiet where we sat. No one within shouting distance.

I had to get him home.

"Do you think you can make it to the car? I'll help you, okay?"

"Sure, mom," he said, suddenly looking so young, so helpless, but at the same time, so damn brave.

I carried the sleds, and held fast to Joseph as we trudged through the snow.

The longest walk I've ever taken.

Once home, 20 minutes after 21, Joseph's sugar had risen to 127-- normal range. Out of danger.

But I really couldn't say when my heart rate did the same.