I hate trying to blog when I'm tired. I'm tired now. I did sleep last night, but I walked the dog, shopped for groceries, played with boys, listened for unhappy yelling, yelled a couple of warnings, made hot cocoa and beef stroganoff, served snacks, took pictures, and refereed a sword fight. Some people go to work and have children. I don't know how they do it. I get tired by this time in the day. I didn't get a nap in. Oh, whine, whine, whine. I need someone to rub my feet and draw a bath for me. Maybe a glass of wine instead.
The boys had a snow day. They slept late, but not late enough. They screamed around the house, played games, pretended to be warriors, played with action figures, played 'funny falls' on a camping mattress, careened down the driveway on sleds, and played video games for just a little while.
It didn't even snow here today. There wasn't even a half an inch of snow left after the mist slushed it away this afternoon, but two miles away and a few hundred feet higher in elevation, they got seven inches of snow last night. I love that about this area. I can have wilder weather than one of my best friends three miles down the road, mostly because of the gradual climb to my house. Nick's school, four miles away in the other direction, can have wilder weather than we have because they are just that much higher than we are. One night, I was driving home from Fall City in a driving snowstorm and could barely discern a line across the road ahead of me and an unnerving darkness beyond it. It was as if the world ended beyond that point. I was already moving slowly, so I crept toward it and was suddenly out in an ordinary night before I realized I'd abruptly left the storm. There was actually a line where the snow on the road suddenly ended.
So today, when I left Adrian and Nick by themselves so I could walk Teddy and pick up some groceries, I told them to call me if the traffic slowed down on the highway or if it began to snow and looked serious outside. Of course, I was just getting warmed up on the trail with Teddy when Nick called. He sounded a little worried.
"Mom! It's hailing," he said, "really hard."
"Well, are the cars slowing down outside?"
"Wait a minute," he said. It always feels strange to hear phone silence. It was a long silence. Teddy came leaping back to where I stood on the trail. I stood with my iPhone to my ear, my finger over the hole in the top of the phone to keep out drips. I looked at the display to see if I'd lost Nick. somehow.
"Mom?"
"Yup, I'm here," I said.
"They're going fast out there," he said.
"Okay, that's good. Call me in fifteen minutes if it's still hailing super hard," I said. "Wait, no, call me in twenty minutes. The roads can't get that bad in the next twenty minutes that I couldn't get home to you." Actually, that isn't true. Just at freezing, the roads can go from slushy to treacherous in minutes, but I wasn't going to tell Nick that right now. He sounded worried that he'd be stuck alone there with just Adrian for the next week if the weather turned. I knew he'd be good for the rest of the night if he had to, but he wasn't sure of it. I figured I had time to enjoy my walk and take that risk. It might be good for him to be on his own for a little longer. Eleven is such a funny age, so full of confidences and insecurities all blended together. One minute, he's acting like a man and the next, he's my little boy again.
So I walked, kick up the snow, thought of my boy, and watched Teddy romping around. Teddy danced circles around me, got into a muddy trench to darken his ankles, then ran through two tunnels, coming out the other side all proud of himself and dirty. We had a nice walk, but when the snow really started coming down, I turned back, ready to reenter the noise of happy boys playing in my house. I made it home to them with no problem, but I sort of look forward to the day when Nick goes off on his own, through a dark tunnel, and comes out the other side, dirty and proud of himself for having survived.
Thank you for listening, jb
The boys had a snow day. They slept late, but not late enough. They screamed around the house, played games, pretended to be warriors, played with action figures, played 'funny falls' on a camping mattress, careened down the driveway on sleds, and played video games for just a little while.
It didn't even snow here today. There wasn't even a half an inch of snow left after the mist slushed it away this afternoon, but two miles away and a few hundred feet higher in elevation, they got seven inches of snow last night. I love that about this area. I can have wilder weather than one of my best friends three miles down the road, mostly because of the gradual climb to my house. Nick's school, four miles away in the other direction, can have wilder weather than we have because they are just that much higher than we are. One night, I was driving home from Fall City in a driving snowstorm and could barely discern a line across the road ahead of me and an unnerving darkness beyond it. It was as if the world ended beyond that point. I was already moving slowly, so I crept toward it and was suddenly out in an ordinary night before I realized I'd abruptly left the storm. There was actually a line where the snow on the road suddenly ended.
So today, when I left Adrian and Nick by themselves so I could walk Teddy and pick up some groceries, I told them to call me if the traffic slowed down on the highway or if it began to snow and looked serious outside. Of course, I was just getting warmed up on the trail with Teddy when Nick called. He sounded a little worried.
"Mom! It's hailing," he said, "really hard."
"Well, are the cars slowing down outside?"
"Wait a minute," he said. It always feels strange to hear phone silence. It was a long silence. Teddy came leaping back to where I stood on the trail. I stood with my iPhone to my ear, my finger over the hole in the top of the phone to keep out drips. I looked at the display to see if I'd lost Nick. somehow.
"Mom?"
"Yup, I'm here," I said.
"They're going fast out there," he said.
"Okay, that's good. Call me in fifteen minutes if it's still hailing super hard," I said. "Wait, no, call me in twenty minutes. The roads can't get that bad in the next twenty minutes that I couldn't get home to you." Actually, that isn't true. Just at freezing, the roads can go from slushy to treacherous in minutes, but I wasn't going to tell Nick that right now. He sounded worried that he'd be stuck alone there with just Adrian for the next week if the weather turned. I knew he'd be good for the rest of the night if he had to, but he wasn't sure of it. I figured I had time to enjoy my walk and take that risk. It might be good for him to be on his own for a little longer. Eleven is such a funny age, so full of confidences and insecurities all blended together. One minute, he's acting like a man and the next, he's my little boy again.
So I walked, kick up the snow, thought of my boy, and watched Teddy romping around. Teddy danced circles around me, got into a muddy trench to darken his ankles, then ran through two tunnels, coming out the other side all proud of himself and dirty. We had a nice walk, but when the snow really started coming down, I turned back, ready to reenter the noise of happy boys playing in my house. I made it home to them with no problem, but I sort of look forward to the day when Nick goes off on his own, through a dark tunnel, and comes out the other side, dirty and proud of himself for having survived.
Thank you for listening, jb
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