Ok, I don’t usually post my “tales” on Saturdays, but this is a special occasion! Blizzard Nemo!
Ha! So glad I don’t have to live up to the name of this storm as I did with Hurricane Sandy, when my youngest would point out fallen trees on crushed cars and lament, “Mom, how could you?”
Anyway, back to Nemo! This was no cute little fishy storm. This was a big bear. That left in its growling wake 2-3ft of snow, depending on where you were standing in our driveway or front yard. Up to my knees, up to my boys’ waists. Up to the dog’s nose.
But guess what! We have a snow blower!
Guess what else – it doesn’t blow 3 feet of snow very well. So we needed to shovel the top layers to make way for the blower.
Shoveling us out had to be a family affair, so as Daddy likes to get at snow as if we had a deadline, (or somewhere we could actually go)we were all outside by 8:30am with big and little shovels.
Little Bro shoveled two shovelfuls then ditched the shovel to play with the dog. But he did find our mailbox!
Big Bro decided the better way to clear the walkway would be to start a snowball and roll it down the walkway until it got bigger and bigger.
It got to only the size of a golfball when he got a little snow in his boots. “Mom my feet are cold.”
I am a tough momma and forced him to tough it out. “It’s cold out and it’s snowy.”
“But they’re wet. My socks are wet….”
You’re fine. Here.” I handed him a scraper to start on Daddy’s car, to forget about his cold feet:
Then the girls from next door came over to play, and they all disappeared into snowdrifts to dig tunnels.
So I got to work on my car:
….And Daddy finally got the driveway plowed. Which is all fine and dandy if we could actually go anywhere:
No plow in sight all morning. Except for a lady who marked a path in her snow shoes. Well, at least I didn’t have to worry about the new pup running out into the road:
This was taken a few hours into our shoveling when I think he’d had enough.
We all had. Aching backs. Little Bro long since had abandoned ship and gone inside to practice his latest card tricks.
But Big Bro, after the girls next door even had gone inside, and who’d complained of cold feet, held out to the end, scraping every bit of snow off both cars.
When we went inside and he stripped off his boots and socks, his feet were a brilliant red. Not a normal red.
“How do your feet feel now?” I asked, trying to squelch panic. To sound as casual as only a Mom should when a crisis is pending.
Now he looked at his feet, remembering them. “Mom, my feet kind of tingle. Mom?”
I google frostbite: Place the frostbitten in warm water.
I fill a basin with warm water. “Mom, that hurts! It’s too hot!”
I add cold water to make it luke warm. It still hurt and he started to cry.
I added more cold water. It was now more like cool.
I coaxed his toes in, then his feet. Gradually I was able to add more warm water. “Mom, I’m scared!”
“Your feet just got cold,” I say casually, as if having to soak your feet in water after playing in the snow was a normal routine. Wondering as only a mom can, at how I’d been negligent. That feeling of when you turn your back for one moment and your toddler has toddled out into the middle of a busy freeway.
Big Bro is no toddler, he’s nine, but stuff scares him and it’s worse when stuff scares me which scares him even more.
But there’s Minecraft! The best computer game to take your mind of frost-bitten feet, so I set him at the computer table with his feet in a tub of water, while on the phone with my mother who was navigating her own house on her walker to get a better view of a fallen tree.
Our backs hurt, my mother lost a tree, my son contracted a touch of frostbite, but we didn’t lose power! We have internet! We are connected. For better or worse. Hard to know. Still. I find time to look up from my screen out at the truly magnificent and humbling of Mother Nature: