I don't care for numb-buns

I’ve had it up to my gray roots with this winter! The season set in early, and it has been cold, wet and long, and I’m over it. My toes are always cold. My nose needs to be defrosted. And my tush! I’ve got numb-buns, and I don’t care for it.

Relevant tangent. Asher’s teachers called me in to discuss a few challenges Asher is facing this year in kindergarten. Apparently, he hasn’t figured out what the square root of 144 is or something on an equally ridiculous par. In any event, they felt the need to call to my attention to the fact that sometimes Asher resists change. Huh. Go figure. And that when he does not choose to participate in Writing Workshop he simply leaves his paper blank and says, “I don’t care for that.” They shared numerous examples of Asher’s uncooperative behaviour mostly so that they could repeat that Asher “doesn’t care for” many things. I, personally, love that Asher expresses how he feels in a polite manner and uses that particular phrase. He may get beaten up on the playground for it, but he’ll always score mensch-points with the grown-ups. If I were in kindergarten, I don’t know that I would care for Writing Workshop either. I recall playing, cutting paper and singing the alphabet song. Isn't that enough?

My point being that in our family, there are many things for which we do not care. Asher does not care to participate in activities that stress him out, and I don’t care for numb-buns. I will remind you that heat is a luxury in this village of old, drafty homes without insulation. And if it’s a choice between cable television and heat, well we’re going to opt for high-speed internet, HD TV with a DVR on our 42 inch flat screen. (insert Snap-Snap-Snap in Z-formation) That’s just the way we roll.

For the first time in my life, I’m sleeping with socks on. I don’t care for socks in bed, but I feel that it is a necessary evil while the thermostat is set at Polar Degrees. I drink gallons of tea every day just to steam my face over the mug of hot water. Furthermore, I had to give up evening sessions of The Hooter Game. That’s where I casually whip out one boob while we’re watching HD TV on our flat screen television, and I count how many minutes it takes Gabriella to notice that one of the Ladies is on display. Just before the winter set in, she had achieved a personal best of 3.35 minutes, but now I just have to keep everyone covered until spring.

And tonight, we await yet another snow storm. Apparently, we’re in for strong winds and 18 inches of snow. I will get a phone call at 5:30 in the morning from a recorded administrator announcing that school is cancelled. I really don’t care for a call at 5:30 in the morning or the cancellation of school. I will stay home with the children, and we will plan our day in the snow. We will then spend more time dressing for the elements than actually playing in the blizzard. One child will throw a snow ball that accidentally finds the other child’s cheek and eventually drips down his neck. There will be tears, and our day in the snow will be cancelled prematurely. We will make hot chocolate, and I will allow the boys to play on the Wii for hours. I’m waiting for a special occasion – like tomorrow's snow day – to present Asher with the new Wii Curling game I got for him in honour of the Olympics. Something tells me he’s going to be a natural. The boy's got skills.
It won’t be a bad day. In fact, I look forward to spending time with the boys and wearing jeans all day. I miss my jeans now that I’m a working mom. I’m just tired of the snow and the cold and my numb-buns.

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Be cool. Stay warm.