What gives? We haven’t had enough snow to play in and it’s nearly February. Right now, it’s currently sleet-ice-raining. In case you didn’t notice, sleet-ice-rain is not snow. It’s crap. Ice is crap, Old Man Winter. Crap. With a capital C.

In November, I made the hair band reference joke, that “nothing lasts forever, even cold November Rain.” But you know what? It has! I understand you’re not in charge of November or even the beginning half of December; that’s the Funky Fall Fairy or whatever. But I thought for sure when we were denied a White Christmas that the snowflakes would soon fly and cover the yard in a spectacular blanket of white.

But no.

We’ve had some snowflakes. Here. And there. But they weren’t even enough to cover the grass (that seems to be growing, what with the 60 degree days in January and all). To top it off, quite literally, you topped off our last snow with a glaze of ice so thick that we couldn’t even park in our own driveway. Not cool. Not cool at all.

All of this would be mostly tolerable, but I kind of made one of those parental slip ups that looms over my head darker than the gray, snowless January clouds. It happened just the other day. LittleBrother was lamenting the fact that we had no snow to play in… yet again. He was getting kind of four-year-old angsty, and I let the words fly before I considered their weight.

“It will snow enough for us to play in this winter, LittleBrother. I promise.”

As soon as I said the words “I promise,” I knew I had gone wrong. I can’t promise anything about weather. In fact, I wouldn’t put it past you, Old Man Winter, to just give us a dusting of snow between now and spring to prove your point. Plus, both the boys and I got new snow boots for Christmas. It’s almost destined not to snow, isn’t it?

And so, I promised my youngest son that it would snow. I promised. And I’ve tried to teach my sons that we keep promises in our family, that our words hold a lot of weight and that we should keep true to our word. But, in my defense, I had only had a half a cup of coffee and was on question number 412 before 9:00 in the morning. Surely you can cut me a little slack?

I don’t need a lot of snow, but I won’t complain if there’s a boatload either. I just want to hear my sons giggle and laugh in the snow. I want to build an angry snowman with them again. I want to look at the joy on their faces, to see the magic in their eyes.

I just want to keep my promise.

So, could you pretty please see what you can do? I’ve defended you for years, and I maintain that winter is my favorite season. Surely you could give back a little. Pretty please, with snowflakes on top?

If not for me…

…for him.

Sincerely With heartfelt love of winter,
FireMom

A Plea to Old Man Winter is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

My perpetual early riser bunks all of those “helpful” tips that parenting “experts” splay all over the web this time of year. First of all, they give their advice far too late. Don’t tell me that my end-of-DST-sleep-woes will be magically erased if I start three weeks prior to the change — ON THE DAY OF THE CHANGE. Secondly, your tips for the three week change are laughable. 15 minute increments don’t change BigBrother’s sleep schedule. 30 minute increments don’t change BigBrother’s sleep schedule. It doesn’t matter if he goes to sleep at 7pm or 11pm: He’s up at 7AM. Or, yesterday, 6AM. And for some unknown, hideous, soul-sucking reason, he was up at 5AM today.

Well, maybe not an unknown reason. It’s my fault.

On Saturday night, I remembered to change the clocks in the kitchen before I went to bed. When BigBrother came waltzing into my room at the new six o’clock, I told him to go back to his room until his clock said seven-zero-zero. We’ve done that with him for years; he can read or play quietly until the clock says it’s seven o’clock, and then he can come get us. You do what you have to with an early riser. However, you may have noticed that I said I changed the clocks in the kitchen.

“Mommy, my clock already says it’s seven o’clock.”

Cuss. I forgot his clock.

I reached for my iPhone on the nightstand and showed him, “No, see? It’s 6:14! Still lots of time to sleep! Hooray! Now, go back to bed.”

“But Mommy, MY clock says it’s already seven. Your clock is wrong.”

It didn’t even matter when I sent him to the kitchen to look at the stove, the microwave or the coffee pot; it was seven o’clock, and dang it, we were going to be awake.

But what does that have to do with him waking up even earlier this morning? Knowing BigBrother as I do, he was probably freaked out about the clock discrepancy and his brain was on overdrive, waking him up even earlier to check the clock situation. He’s never actually woken up during the five o’clock hour since we’ve had the clock in his room. Six, yes. Five, no. So when he saw it, he was confused.

“Mommy! My clock says it’s FIVE. I don’t even know what that MEANS!”

Me either. Me either, dude.

I explained it was very, very early and that he should go back to sleep, not just read. An hour later, “Mommy! My clock says it’s SIX!” Snort-yawn, back to bed, yawn. About twenty minutes later, “Mommy, my clock is moving so slowly.”

That it is.

So now he’s paranoid about his clock. And he’ll wake up at the same time tomorrow, even if we keep him up until midnight. Changing his internal clock is a harder transition than changing the increments of what time we put him to bed every night. It’s more than blackout curtains — which he has. It’s more than what he does or does not do or eat or drink before bed. It’s something that has to happen with him in his own time, no matter what the “experts” say. He’s going to be up at six — or earlier — for the next few months. He’ll change just about the time that the clocks change again, though that change is easier for him — because he’s some odd child who loves mornings.

Now please bring me some more coffee, because mornings and I? We’re no longer even acquaintances.

Parenting “Experts” on Daylight Saving Time Have Never Met BigBrother is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

I simply had to go outside.

I don’t know what the “#1″ thing was about to day or why they found it so funny, but all three of us got a case of the giggles. Between their laughs and my snorts, not all of the photos I took were clear. But the giggles were clear: clear and pure and the music of a mother’s heart.

Eventually, I had to head back inside and make dinner for the three of us. I could have sat on the edge of the porch until dusk settled on the leaf-filled yard and laughed until my sides hurt. Still, listening to their continued laughter — and occasional argument — while I made pumpkin chili made the fact that I wasn’t outside with them a little bit better. Knowing that they were busy making memories together while throwing in a memory for me as well made me feel as though this really was one of those super special afternoons.

Maybe the boys were on to something. Maybe it was a “#1″ afternoon.

#1 Afternoon is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

And grin your ornery grin?

Will you always close your eyes when the leaves fall down,

with lashes nearly to your chin?

Will you always laugh that laugh of yours?

The one that melts my heart?

Will you always spend a fall day with me…

no matter how far we are apart?

Bad Poetry, Good Photos, Great Fall Day is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

I don’t want to remember how frustrated I was with my work. And how it made me snippy.

I don’t want to remember how annoyed I was with the guy who was smoking at the playground.

I don’t want to remember the mom that wasn’t paying attention and knocked BigBrother’s head off the metal railing.

I don’t want to remember the phone call that let me know that I was in the middle of a surprise 36 hour shift.

No.

I want to remember the fact that Spring was coming early on this random warm day in February.

I want to remember how happy they were to be riding in the wagon for the first time this year, and how I didn’t fall over pulling them — despite the fact that they’ve grown lots — because I’m in shape.

I want to remember when LittleBrother picked it up and called it a coconut.

I want to remember BigBrother counting, giggling the entire time.

I want to remember LittleBrother enjoying some time by himself.

I want to remember their joy in leaving the playground when it meant that they got to walk home with friends.

Seriously, I wrote a big, gigantic rant about my day and the crap that went down at the park today — our first trip of 2011. But? My kids? Had an amazing time today. Their joy rubbed off on me. I am blessed to have them in my lives, to remind me of what counts and what, really, doesn’t.

They are wise teachers. And pretty darn cute.

Spring Perspective is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

Wordless Wednesday: Scenes from a Snowy Morning is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

Wordless Wednesday: I Captured a Woodpecker (with My Camera) is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

Kids are unpredictable, of course. Mine are no different. I had the normal questions of any parent going anywhere in public with their children: Will they behave? Will they argue/fight? Will they whine? Will they whine incessantly? Will they dart out into snowy traffic while we get out of the car? Will they run out into the basketball court and yell, “HEY PRETTY GIRL! CAN I PLAY TOO?!” Will they poke each other in the eye? Will they randomly choose this place and time to pull a cuss word from under their hat? Will they cry? Will they scream? Will they melt on the floor in Epic Tantrum Proportions? Will they embarrass me? Or themselves? Will I get anything done?

Sometimes I forget that, at their core, my kids are pretty good kids. They’re not perfect. In fact, LittleBrother did poke BigBrother in the eye with his Leapster “pen.” There was some minimal whining, but it lasted less than a minute total. (I know, right?) And the best part?

They had a good time.

And, shockingly, so did I.

LittleBrother is beyond exhausted today, the both of them having been up two hours past their bedtime last night. And I may be excited to be going to work sans-children this evening. But, I’ve got to say, I’m glad they came with me last night. The Big Long Winter months drive us all a little batty with one another; the arguing, the fighting, the aforementioned eye-poking. I begin to question myself and doubt my parenting ability. I needed a reminder that we’re all just a little Stir Crazy, but we will survive the winter with our sanity — and manners — in tact.

An Eye-Poking Good Time is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

Wordless Wednesday: Snow Flies, Boyfriend Sits Still is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.

Today the not-so-Snowpocalypse hit the area. For awhile there, it was snowing hard. The boys were giddy. So was I. I knew as soon as I finished my work hours, we were going to get our snow gear on, get our butts outside and get to the important work of snowball fights, sledding and general snow fun.

Except, I forgot that I am currently without a pair of snowpants.

Last year, I broke the zipper on the ski pants I had for years. I attempted an outdoor snow-venture without them but ended up with snow in areas one doesn’t really want to have snow. For our first snow this year, I attempted to put on a pair of really old (I’m talking high school, people) wind-pant-type-of-material pants. As you might imagine, they didn’t fit all that well.

And so, I have no snowpants.

I just got a new ski jacket. It’s black and white and, wait for it, green. I know you’re surprised. I just want a pair of simple black pants, though I do like the version of bibs that Lands’ End carries as well. The problem? I don’t know where to find them other than Lands’ End. And you’d think Lands End would have their snowpants on some kind of reasonable sale considering Target has swim suits in the store. But no. No sale. And spending $80-$100 on pants that I can only wear 2-5 times per year in places and situations that lend to tearing, ripping and general damage seems… well… wasteful.

Who else carries adult snowpants? For reasonable prices?

Because I’d really like to join these guys…

…before they don’t want to play with me anymore.

(But don’t worry, FireDad threw enough snowballs for me. And at me.)

I Need Some Snowpants is a post from Stop, Drop and Blog. Want more of Stop, Drop and Blog? Like our page on Facebook! If you have questions, contact me or hit me up via twitter.