Snow fairy watch

I might be the last Ohio mom who is actually hoping for a snow day tomorrow.  If it happens, it will be Snow Day #7, something which is not the norm in these parts.  Many parents are so over snow days this year, and I get it.  I do.  However, I still have a hand up.  I’ll take another.

I can’t help it.  The magic of a snow day never gets old.

When I was a kid, I thought there was nothing better than snow days.  The giddiness still resides in the pit of my stomach.  It’s not that I disliked school; it’s that snow days were so fun.  I remember clamboring to the end of my bed tangled in my bed linens to peer out the window at the bounty of white.  Snow days were always an occasion in our house: special breakfast, friends to play, sledding on the neighborhood hill, hot chocolate with marshmallows, and nary a chore or job list in sight.  Snow days rocked.  The memories are still vivid.

They feel like pins and needles as the feeling returns to my fingers and toes.

They smell like the wood-burning fireplace.

They taste like hot chocolate.

The sound like laughter and squeals on the sledding hill.

They look like a whimsical story tale version of my favorite place: home.

Later I became a teacher with lots of teacher friends all over the city.  My roommates and I would turn the underused television on and watch the strip at the bottom of the screen.  We would call (note this was pre-texting era) each other as our districts rolled across the screen.  The one business-major-turned-business-job-holder roommate would (justifiably) glare at us as she went to bed too late to rise too early.  In the morning we would either revel at our five in the morning phone calls or bemoan the horrid forecasters of false hope.

Now I’m the mom of a school-age child, and she dances a jig at the thought of snow days.  Literally.  Her jig — done to encourage the snow fairies to get serious tonight — was done with reckless abandon and boundless energy.  Ahhh, youth.  ‘Tis a lovely thing to watch.  I’ve got the snow day planned: craft projects organized, special treats ready, extra hugs and snuggles anticipated, and Mommy and Me hot chocolate mugs ready.

I hope she is giddy.  Learning to find joy in the simplest of things: a snow day.

I hope her toys are scattered from here to there.  Evidence of a day well played.

I hope she plays in the snow and imagines herself the queen of this new world for a day.  Free fun.

I hope.

As I emerge and feel good, I want a snow day.  I want a day where time stops, where responsibilities are covered to wait for another day, where we indulge in the unexpected gifts, where we celebrate the simplest of joys.

It’s an excuse to stop.  And smell the roses frolic in the snow.

I still have that giddy feeling of anticipation in my stomach.  I never want to lose that, and oh, how I want my daughters to know that feeling.

So, c’mon snow fairies.  Didn’t you see my jig?