Four snowstorms, four weeks, two dentist appointments, and one exhausted momma : A letter from New England

1.  The first snowstorm was actually a blizzard.  Leading up to the storm, the media was warning people that this could be the blizzard of the century - major cities closed - and I found myself at a big box home-goods/hardware store asking about flashlights the hour the snow started to fall.

Poor New York was disappointed by the storm, but here in Boston, we had a genuine blizzard, spent Tuesday inside watching snow fall, spent another day or two at home because schools and preschools were closed, and we got about two to three feet of snow. 

Fun.

2.  About a week later, there was another snowstorm.  It arrived on a Monday morning and lasted all day.  It dropped about a foot of snow on top of the several feet from the blizzard the week before. 

That day, I was a little less enthusiastic about the snow.  I woke up tired of having been stuck in our apartment and not looking forward to another day inside.  I took a walk at around 8 am while the snow was still falling.  The sidewalks were not clear yet, not even close.  On my way home, about a half-block from our apartment, I slipped, fell slowly, and landed in a very soft pile of snow - belly and all. 

So fun.

3.  One week later, we had another snow storm on a Monday. 

The same day that Bug and Squish had their dentist appointments about a mile down Mass. Ave in Cambridge.

Perhaps the part of me that took a walk in the snowstorm the week before was the same part of me that decided the three of us were going to these dentist appointments.  We had spent what felt like over two weeks in our apartment because it was too cold to go outside.

Off we went.  The boys did a great job, and I was so proud of them.

Then we re-bundled ourselves to leave - snow pants, winter coats, water-proof puffy gloves, hats, and boots - and we went outside to wait for the 77 bus to take us home.

We did this on purpose.  For fun. 

It was freezing and snowing outside.  Bug and Squish stood behind a 5-foot tall snow bank that blocked the wind while we waited for the bus, which arrived just a few minutes later and not a second too soon.

The boys enjoyed the ride down snow covered Mass. Ave, and I enjoyed spending time with them outside of our living room for the first time in many, many days.

We got off the bus near our local pizza place so that we could have a special lunch together.  My husband was going to walk over and meet us for lunch, too.  It was going to be a cheesey, root-beery, wonderful family hour together.

The pizza place was closed.  Of course it was.  We were in the middle of the third snow storm in as many weeks.

Bug accepted the defeat with some dignity and was ready to walk home, but Squish refused.

He kept pulling on the locked door to the pizza place.  He was crying.  He was shouting.  Snot and tears were running down the little bit of his face that was not covered by his hat and jacket hood.

A woman in a pick-up truck across the street shouted over to us, "Can I give you a ride?!?"

I said, "Oh no.  We are fine. Just a couple blocks from home.  Thank you!!"

She tried again, "But with the baby crying!  And it's only going to get worse out here.  I can take you down the road easily!"

Again, I let her know we would be fine - perhaps hoping that Squish would hear these words and realize that he would, indeed, be fine.

Squish continued to wail and flail and ask why the pizza place would not open.

The woman across the street said, "I'm not a crazy person.  My truck is safe.  You are welcome to hop in!!"

I felt terrible.  She was being so, so kind.  And we must have looked so pitiful.  One prego lady, one quiet, cold 5-year-old, and one floptastic 3-year-old screaming about pizza on the corner in the middle of a snowstorm.

I tried to reassure her that we really lived two blocks away and would be okay. 

She shrugged.

Finally my husband arrived.  I explained that the place was closed and started to walk Bug home, leaving my husband to manage poor, sad, hungry Squish.

So, so fun.

4.  Yes, 4.  Freaking 4.  And it wasn't March yet.  Valentine's Day brought another snow storm this year.  I only remember three things about that weekend - all food related.

Bug and I went to the grocery store and got some Valentine sugar cookies to decorate.

My husband made a delicious dinner that night.

We had nutella French toast with bacon and strawberries that Sunday morning. 

Otherwise, it was just another freezing cold, snowy, several day period when we were stuck inside trying not to go absolutely insane.

So, so, so fun.

The following week, we did not have another snow storm.  But some things were going on at work that caused a lot of stress.  An almost absurd amount of stress.  So much stress that I ended up at the doctor's office one morning for the ironically named nonstress test because of the number, frequency, and strength of those delightful Braxton Hicks contractions I had been having the night before.

After my nonstress test, I got some great advice from the nurse practitioner:

"Lower your standards.  Cereal is a perfectly nutritious dinner for everyone.  Pajamas are not required for bedtime - kids can sleep in their clothes."