I don't often get out during the winter months. I'm like a big mama bear guarding my cubs, I stay in the cave, warm and comfortable, only venturing out after the first signs of Spring. Here in lovely New England the first signs of Spring can begin in February and officially begin, AGAIN, in April. I have lived here long enough to see snow on the ground until May. Growing up in the South this was never an issue. We had enough snowstorms to pull out the sled and to understand the sheer bliss of a snow day, building snow men and having snowball fights. But, just as soon as one might begin to get tired of having to wear a thick down coat, Spring came breezing in with her warm kisses and colorfully decorated garbs. I never thought, I mean, why would I? Of what it would mean to be a Northern mom through long grey winters, after the sweet short seasons of the South. It's hard. Dreadfully. Painfully. Chillingly. HARD! It's even more difficult when every 2.5 years my womb decides it, too, is becoming cold and lonely so, in a desperate plea for company, puts up the vacancy sign and quickly grabs a taker! This involves nine, who the hell am I kidding?! TEN arduous, uncomfortable, painstakingly hormonal months of rolling around like Violet Beauregarde a la Willy Wonka, after snatching the three course bubble gum with blueberry pie and cream for dessert, minus the Cerulean blue pigmentation.

Having a little one in the winters where foot, after foot, after foot...after foot of snow falls so that I practically need stilts to maneuver around in it, is not exactly conducive to a toddler environment. Envision this...

It's negative 800 degrees. My eyeballs are frozen ventrally, all peripheral vision involves making tears that immediately form icicles that further impede my movement through the snow. To remove my gloves and chip away said icicles I must first put down the baby who is mobile but hindered by legs that are so short they haven't yet formed kneecaps. While I'm in the throes of an all out temper tantrum from her, a now face-down frozen in the snow baby, my four year old is screaming wildly because "I IS FREEeeeEeZEeZinG, I W-W-WANT TO G-G-GO INSIDE. NOW, NOW, nOw, NOOOoOOOooOOOOOooW!" During this moment of, what I didn't know at the time I would consider serenity, my 7 year old is reminding me that "YOu Promised. Mom, You promised! You said you would sleigh ride with me. You said it. YOU. SAID. YOU. WOOOOOOULD!" I'm standing dumbfounded in the snow unable to cry because the tears have now backed up,, due to the icicles, causing my large roast of a brain to freeze faster than a Windows PC.

So, my friends, I stay inside. In the warm, familiar, and slightly less confrontational confines of my home. Here I am safe and easily distracted by food in the fridge and the possibility that the children will all fall asleep in a heap while playing and I'll be the winner of a million dollars from a sweepstakes that I have never or would never enter. Well, winter also has the tendency to make me more delusional.

This week I have ventured out of the house several times to partake in what, some crazy whackos, refer to as a Winter Wonderland. And, you know what? I enjoyed it! Every moment of it! I've hidden in a copse of trees waiting for the ever so elusive fairies. I've ice skated in a makeshift pond in our small town. And, today, I visited with a lovely new friend and her children for a whirlwind play day and a quick bike ride on the trail near her home. It's been a great start to, what could be, a memorable mid-winter vacation. My children have off of school this entire week. I imagined that I would be very lonely. Their Dad works long hard hours and comes in late with, still MORE, work waiting to get done. I'm finding that in these times, when I would normally hibernate, it's often a better idea to get out and seek warmth any place that I can find it,whether it be in the hearts of my children or the voice of a friend.