Ode to Snow

Philadelphia got many inches of snow last night. Snow day. Too messy to go to school for baby or Mommy, and so the fact that Nature is giving us no choice but to snuggle in together makes me so glad for it. Daily I struggle with the blessing and the heartbreak of a beautiful job and a small child who goes to a wonderful school each day. She has adorable friends and nurturing, patient teachers. But, ohmydearLord, I miss her so much. It isn't a complaint as much as it's a wish that our schools were in the same place, and that we could visit throughout the day and then go back to our learning and teaching. That I could go steal a kiss and a squeeze whenever I want, or watch her playing with friends or listening to a story...or, damn it, read the story myself. But this is selfish, isn't it? Maybe she's perfectly okay with this set-up. But, you know, if she ever missed me in all of the excitement of singing and reading and playing with friends...I sure would like to be right there.

Back to the snow day. She surely felt the bliss that filled our house this morning, and she and I softly orbited one another in the sweet space of our living room. We read books, played with Legos, sat in front of a giant bowl of snow and spooned it into and out of cups. During her morning snack, she dipped her raisins in the snow to see what it might taste like, and she shared her raisins with me, "Here, Mama."

"Do you want to run?" I asked her. Oh, yes. And we chased each other back and forth from the kitchen to the living room. She always spills over with glee when I catch her and tickle her. She rode for a bit on her wooden giraffe before suggesting, "Mama's turn," and she watched ecstatically as I made silly noises and bent my knees way up to get my feet to the floor on the wheely toy.

And soon it seemed like a good idea to switch spaces, and so up to the 2nd floor we went. She wanted to play on our big bed, and so we read more books, lying on our backs: "Brown Bear, Brown Bear, what do you see?" Lately I read and leave out each animal: "I see a red ____." "Bird!" she says. "I see a purple ____." "Cat!" she says. She sat almost all the way through Pinkalicious, but also wanted to stand and then fall on the bed. And do "Criss, cross, applesauce," and hear me sing "Down, down, baby...down by the rollercoaster." More, she says. "Shimmy, shimmy, cocoa pop. Shimmy, shimmy rock." The sun came through the window — "Sun," she said, and squinted. And she watched the snow hang on the big tree in front of the house.

Lunchtime. How do four hours pass so quickly? She ate the peanut butter sandwich I had originally prepared for her school lunch today, and she fell asleep as I rocked her before her nap.

She is sleeping now. And I am watching her on the monitor while I work, knowing that at any moment I could just run upstairs and steal a kiss and a squeeze.

I'm the mommy, I remind myself. Her one and only mommy. And I thank the snow.