I’m slowly aware of a 3-year-old making her way across our bedroom, to my side of the bed. Before she gets to my face and before my eyes open, Daddy reminds her not to wake us on a Saturday morning and she scurries out of the room. Before I can drift back into sleep, I gather that there is an accident on the carpet and a girl waiting in the tub. Miss 6-years-old calls upstairs & asks if I have read the note in the hallway outside of our room.
When I pull myself out of bed I find the note on the hall closet, “Befor opin ples look ewt side naw.” (Before open please look outside now)… the letter o’s in the word look are eyeballs with eyelashes. She’s excited because of the first snow last night and this morning we find the snow has actually stayed on the ground.
I get to work filling the tub, and the 6-year-old gets herself ready for the snow. Rain boots because we need to shop for snow boots later today. She hurries outside. I finish the 3-year-old’s bath, help her dry, help her dress. We watch Talia from the bedroom window. Then we dress Katrina in big sister’s too-small snow suit. Blow that dripping nose and send her out to the snow.
They are wild, running, making snow angels, packing snowballs, agreeing to have a snowball fight if they only throw them at each other’s backs. 6-year-old makes a pile of snow and they both run and jump. 3-year-old makes “a pillow” out of snow. I take a few photos through the window downstairs then I go up and warm up in bed with Hubby who is tired because his back pain kept him awake in the night.
Soon I return to the girls’ room to watch and listen from their bed, by the window. 6-year-old is throwing snow in the air and the wind carries it up, over the fence, into the neighbouring yards. Some falls back into our yard and it’s a homemade snow globe. I watch her repeat over and over and I think about how it’s magical. And I’m happy in this moment. And I can’t just sit here anymore without grabbing the laptop and typing this down.
I knock on the window to get 3-year-old’s attention and motion to her, not to eat the snow. Soon 6-year-old holds the snow up to her mouth with eyes locked on mine. I make a face. She pulls her hands away fast with a mischievous grin and yells through the glass, “I tricked you! I didn’t really do it!” And she does it a couple more times, each time making a silly face.
6-year-old has cold feet from the rain boots and no more clean socks. I send her to find my warmest pair. And 3-year-old is downstairs needing help getting her snowsuit off. Daddy is just out of the shower, dressed and ready, and goes down to help. 6-year-old comes to show me the socks she chose. She deems my pink socks the warmest, and her favourites. It’s time for warm oatmeal now.
In the background of all of this my fingers and wrists are hurting. But I’ve decided that the more I pay attention to the gifts, the more I’ll be able to focus beyond the pain. But that’s enough typing for now.