Sky barf 2017
Yesterday morning I woke up to my son ripping open the curtains in my bedroom to expose the piles of snow that had fallen as we slept. I groaned quietly and rolled over with the pillow over my head to block the white glare that projected from my window.
For those of you who don’t know me, I strongly dislike the first day of snow, which will now be referred to as sky barf.
We moved to Moose Jaw two years ago from a place where the sky barf fell a lot. So the past two winters have been like a dream for me — a dream that feels like it has come to an end.
First of all, my nine-year-old would not get out of bed. He moaned and whined about all the snow outside and that he hated school and he hated snow and he hated being cold. He complained that he had nothing to wear and that he didn’t want to go outside for recess and it went on and on and on. Finally, something he said made sense.
“I hate my winter jacket and I’m not wearing it.” Oh, Mylanta! Yes, Full House plays in our house everyday.
All the winter gear is still packed. This is where the chaos starts.
I jump out of bed — OK, so that’s a lie — I crawled out of bed. OK, that’s a lie too. I laid in bed and thought about where the winter gear might be, and eventually had it figured out, and then I crawled out of bed.
The floor was cold so that was just a reminder of the sky barf. And you know what? It’s not just sky barf. It’s sky barf that has underlying slush that you don’t even know is there until your boot is covered with it. Anyway, I got ready and headed downstairs to find the items I plan to sell when I move to Hawaii.
I went down to the basement to find the very organized tubs of winter clothes that I had put away so nicely the year before. Yes!
I was an organized mother and a very happy one because I was thinking ahead. After gathering the items that I so neatly put away in an easily found spot, I headed upstairs and passed everything out.
Of course, the teenager was way too cool for winter clothes and argued with me about having to wear it, and how it’s not that cold out and so he is just going to wear his bunny hug and volleyball shorts.
This is the same child that argued with me this morning about how he didn’t want to get to school too early because it was too cold. Go figure.
I love my son, but puberty has seriously done something to his brain. Sorry, snow barf causes me to go off topic sometimes. Anyway, I passed out the items only to hear, “Mom, I need mitts!” That was it. This organized, very happy mom who thought ahead and packed everything to perfection, could not remember where she put all the mitts.
The last thing I remembered doing last season, was wandering through my house gathering all the mismatched mittens that were just thrown throughout our home. I swear, I even found them behind the toilet, on top of shelves and the occasional one in the gutters outside. Again, off track.
Found the bag of mismatched mitts and passed them out. Why can’t girls wear blue mitts? Why can’t you wear two right-handed mitts or two lefthanded? It doesn’t matter if those mini mitts belong to a child who was here four years ago. Fine! Just use sock!
OK, everyone is dressed and we head out. Wait, where are my keys?
I tell the oldest to buckle the threeyear-old into his seat and I will be right there. I remove my boots and mitts and start scrambling for the missing keys. Just great. Found them a lot sooner than I had expected. Put my boots and mitts back on and walk out the door… to find five children covered in sky barf, including the one who didn’t want to go to school. Get. In. The. Car. There was sky barf everywhere — on the seats, on the roof, in their hoods and all over their mismatched mitts and hand socks. The truck was cold of course, because the sky barf now requires us to warm our vehicles before we drive away. Oh, and every boot was covered with the sticky sky barf that had also collected dead leaves and rocks so when the sky barf melts those items will be all over my vehicle.
Finally, we’re off, and I’m listening to the kids chatter in the back seat about their favourite things about sky barf and all the memories that came with it. All fond memories that brought my children together in conversation on the first day of snow in 2017.
That means 13-plus years of memories, and for that I am so very thankful.
So, I accept the sky barf and the cold, the mismatched mitts, the bright glare that projects from my bedroom window, and the boots and jackets that I will re-organize next spring in preparation for 2018.
I will postpone my move to Hawaii and continue to argue with my teenager about proper winter attire. I will be outside with all five of my children getting covered in sky barf. All because I’m a mom and that’s what moms do.