This Winter, The Never Ending Story

Tomorrow is the first of March.  There should be a hint of spring in the air or, at the very least, a hint of a hint of spring.  The reality?  The air temperature was -8 F this morning.  I'm not even sure what the windchill was, but it was forecasted to be in the neighborhood of -25.  That's humorous enough, I'm sure, but this is roughly the 15th time this winter that we have had a windchill warning.  For anyone unfamiliar with that particular weather term, it roughly translates to "cold that can kill you quick and freeze your face off even quicker" weather.

This winter, we have taken to traveling with thermal sleeping bags in the back of the mini van, just in case the engine quits between here and town.  We have bought bags of hand warmers from the outdoorsy store.  We have had many things freeze in the garage, and we've had many critter visitors of various sizes take up shelter in our garage.  (I can't even blame them.)  My kids get recess only when the temperature is above 0 F.  They have had more days lately without recess than with recess.  That makes for squirrelly kids and haggard teachers, by the way.  Polar Vortex, they say.  Can we just quit complaining about it and act like the strong and hearty souls that we, Wisconsinites, are supposed to be, please?

It has been a winter to behold.  The power of Mother Nature is awesome and cruel.  Aside from the intense cold, we have had more than our fair share of snow.  It's been awhile since we have had so much of it so consistently.  I don't mind.  It keeps the bleak cold pretty out there.  Bad road conditions and canceled activities aside, I have to admit that I have enjoyed this winter.  No, really, I'm being serious.

Winter is a hunker down and hibernate time.  It gives an excuse to wrap up in a blanket, buy more wool, have an extra cup (or three) of coffee.  Bake, cook hearty, have a family movie night, decide to stay home kinds of winters have become scarce lately.  I've embraced this one.  My kids have loved it too.  Four days of school have been canceled due to COLD!  When it is -45 F outside, we stay inside.  We don't even drive to the store or to Starbucks.  Doing so is actually dangerous.  Doesn't that sound crazy for the twenty-first century?  I love the new-found respect I get for nature when the weather goes nuts.  When the cold eases up just a hair, we sled, skate, snowshoe, slide on the ice, check out what the ice fishermen are catching, and feed the cold, little wild birds.  Hot cocoa abounds!

The Ice Caves along the northern coast of Wisconsin and Lake Superior are open this year, for the first time in five years.  Lucky enough to be able to get up there to see them, we took in the beauty and were properly awed.

Standing over 40 feet of lake water on the ice, we saw colors and crystals of ice that nature created, seemingly, with frost fairies.

The walk out to them was an ambitious undertaking.  Rough snow-covered ice was our path for at least a mile over the lake until we came to the caves.  The pay-off was worth it.

 This is such a big deal up there, that the Canadian Border Patrol came in to help out the Apostle Islands rangers with the crowds.  11,000 people were expected the weekend we showed up there.  I can see why.  I even crawled in a tight little space or two to experience the caves.  They smelled of fish, even with all the ice!

So, who says a cold winter is boring?  Stay inside if you want for the months on end, but me?  I need my vitamin D from whatever sunshine I can get. 

However, enough is enough.  I will welcome Spring anytime.  For now, though, one more cup of coffee.

Project Nothing, a rehearsal

Next weekend, my family is having a DAY OF NOTHING.  Saturday, we will stay in our pajamas, hang out together, hang out alone, cook, play, watch a movie (or not), take a nap (or not), play Legos, read, knit (me), watch sports (maybe me but for sure Rob), and any other little thing that drifts into our relaxed, untaxed little minds.

Here's what we will NOT do:  clean, organize, fret, worry, run errands, micromanage, and other things that you are getting the idea about by now.

This afternoon is a practice run of about two hours.  We came home from churchy things and a movie and decided to just hang.  This is an almost foreign but distantly remembered sense of being for me.  It is also that same thing for the kids and Rob, because I am usually hounding them into tidying and prepping for the week.

So, for the next little while, Game on for NOTHING!

The Years Are Short: A Good Reminder by Gretchen Rubin

Times, they are a-changing

There comes a time in every mom's life when she cannot fix what ails her child.  I know this, because I've been told by countless other moms that it would happen to me.  And now it has.

Delaney is going through something that is awful to her.  She has developed a fear of a fastpitched ball. This developed a few weeks ago after getting hit by two pitches over the course of a few days.  It rattled her at first.  Then it grew into anxiety about going to practice.

She wants to quit.  There are tearful discussions often.  Almost every day, there are discussions, in fact. They are usually broached by Delaney right before bedtime (when I've begun to think we are home free for the day), and they end with her restlessly not going to sleep at bedtime.  Result?  Fatigue, frustration, feelings of being abandoned by her parents, etc, etc, etc, and none of it good.

Her dad and I know she can defeat the fear.  We know that every practice attended gives her more of a chance of getting past this.  Her coaches are supportive and working with her.  They haven't had her pitched to by a teammate since we all talked about it.

She can do this.  But at what cost?  Will she be damaged by the stress?  Will she ever forgive us (let's be honest....forgive ME?) for making her keep going?  Will she end up hating softball and/or all sports (and she's always been active and a natural athlete)?

Can I do this?  I am a mess.  This daily stress is wearing me out.  Patience is becoming such a challenge for me.  I am almost all positively thoughted out.  Poor Aidan is being left out.  The stress of dealing with my mom's illness is crushing me.  (And I so much long to be able to talk about this with her....oh, the crushing loss!)  Rob and I are at a total loss.

The bottom line:  Softball isn't the issue.  Walking away from a challenge is the issue.  This is an opportunity for her to "kill it," to not let fear get the best of her, to know that "when the going gets tough, the tough get going."  And really, she didn't get hurt when she got hit.  She got unnerved.  BUT, she's 10 1/2.  Ten and a half.  I want to crawl into bed with her and tell her that she never has to play ball again, that she can quit.

But then what?  Quit college when she fails a midterm?  Quit her job when her boss gets crabby at her? Quit her marriage when the shine wears off after the first few years?  Quit on her kid when she becomes a basket of crabby nerves?

I want my girl back who used to let me help her.  I hope she's still there and not turned into a tweeny stranger forever.  Please, God, give me the strength to see past me and to be there for her.

RELEASE!

Today I realized something.  I've been running indoors since the beginning of December.  Last year, I rarely ran inside.  A series of dangerous windchill days (such as -45F), a new schedule with 4:30 a.m. wake up calls for 5:00 a.m. gym sessions (alternating days with Rob to keep the motivation going), and lots of black ice on the roads have all contributed to my lily-livered running.  However, the marathon schedule waits for no one.

Today, the realization hit that my long run next week is 9 miles.  That is equivalent to 54 laps around the track at the gym.  Gross.  So, I laced 'em up and headed out the front door for my first winter run in awhile.  It was cold, and the added layers of clothing weighed me down, but it felt great.  My lungs got to expand with the cold air.  The ice fishermen and I exchanged hellos as I passed the boat launch (three times).  It was a great release after many indoor only days.  I even got to wear my old favorite shoes (trying to keep the newer ones clean for awhile).  Today felt old school.  Winter isn't so bad.

Trust: A One-Way Street

I've been thinking about my last post (over two months ago).  It started when I was trying to come up with some comfort to work my way out of the downward spiral I sometimes get started in my brain when things go wrong one by one throughout the day.  I finally decided that it all comes down to trust.  That and the conclusions below:

One:  Worrying about something doesn't help (but it CAN make things worse).

Two:  Keep moving forward.  It's a good way to leave the worries behind.  It's also a good way to find new and better distractions (like running, knitting, chocolate, wine, family, books, nature, work, friendships, sports, movies, cleaning.......and the list goes on and on)

Three:  Life is too damn short to fret (and to worry about what others think and to "what if" myself to death).

Four:  Looking on the bright side is best (for ME and my peace of mind and for my kids to see as a better way to live.....NOTE:  There is ALWAYS a bright side, Pollyanna).

Five:  I hate it when the cliches prove to be true, but it really does pay to put on my own air-mask in an emergency before trying to save the people around me.  Breathing is important.  (However, there are times when I have to put on my own air-mask QUICKLY to get to my loved ones who need me.)

And look at that.  I turned around the "cold finger of fear" into a beauty after taking a moment to find my center.  Life IS good.  And in order to live that life, I have to trust myself.  That is the one-way street variety of trust, because, when it comes down to the brass tacks, the trust has to come from within.


Now, please God, let me remember all this the next time I start that spiral.....

That Cold Finger of Fear

For the last seven or eight years, I've been looking over my shoulder.  This is kind of a secret, but kind of not.  Some people know of this fear that I have.  Some would call it paranoid or selfish to be afraid of contracting an illness from which my mother suffers, but it's hard to not do it.

In the beginning, when I started to notice that something was "off" with my mom, there were certain things that she'd do that were strange to her.  One of them was losing the ability to knit from a pattern.  She'd start off projects with gusto! and then peter off into abandoning them.  At first, it was a puzzle to me.  Her nicely wound skeins of yarn would turn into smaller and smaller balls that were hand-wound.  They would be all over her home, and then, they'd sit in a bowl on the table as a "decoration," never to be knitted from again.  Then we found out she had dementia.

The fear paralyzes me when I lose my spot in a pattern, can't find it again, and have to rip it all the way out (frog it) and start over again.  The hand-wound ball of yarn that I end up with is very unnerving.  I know that this is silly, something that happens to all knitters and as a metaphor to all people in their own way.  I'm hoping that writing about it and putting it on the blog helps me to banish the fear....