and: even MORE snow!

 

Suri likes it!

Yeah I know, I yammer on about lake effect snow, but when you live in the middle of it...we're right in the yellow.  It's worse up east of the lake most of the time, or better, I should say.  The snowmobilers love it up there.  

So we had our pulled pork nachos for dinner, with Margaret and Adrian and the little guys, and Evelyn, and Emily over.  Only eleven of us, seems like a small crowd.  Jonathan will be coming home from his west coast trip, on Wednesday.  (that apple pie though...oh dear!  With the all butter crust...my crust recipe is 1 1/4 cup of flour with a dash of salt, for every stick( 1/2 cup) of butter, I cheat and use the food processor...but I gently toss the splashes of cold water in after removing it from the food processor...I don't use a recipe for the pie itself, I just mixed about 2/3 cup of sugar with about 1/3 cup of flour, and poured in some cinnamon.  I also poured a few capfuls of lemon juice onto the apples, to add some tartness to the Empire apples...)(I did not socially distance from this pie, but I did only have a smidgen.  Do not ask me how...it was so good.  It calls my name much louder than cookies do...)

Our school here is planning to start more in-person learning, there's quite an aggressive re-opening plan.  It's good, for most kids, they need to be in school, need "normal", need interaction with other kids.  My girls though, would thrive with their present schedule, more laid back.  If they got rid of the masks at school and had more kids in the classrooms, then still stayed home a few days a week, well, they would be quite happy.  They love doing school in their beds in their comfy jammies.  I don't interfere with their methods, or make them sit up straight, no, I do not.   They're both on the principal's high honor roll, with averages in the high nineties, so their methods work.

The house is rather dark this morning, and shh, I love it.  It's like a cozy den, with the dogs, all fed and tired from their romp in the snow, snoring like angels on the couches.  The fake fireplace is humming, and the kitties are both asleep in here too, one on a chair, the other on the back of the couch.  Paul is working in his office, Sonja in her room, the little girls have yet to start their day.  It's a far cry from years ago, when morning meant diapers and bottles and sippy cups and washing bedding and giving baths, while getting hordes of children onto buses.  We had the first trip kids, then an hour later, the younger kids on second trip.  Some years we had ten kids getting on those buses.  Then the fun at home would REALLY begin, with all the little ones, ha.  But nothing was like those school mornings, getting them all out the door looking neat and spiffy, with their lunches, their snacks, their homework, their projects, their gym clothes, their musical instruments, their sports equipment, their parents' signatures on their weekly folders, (Oh the things I had to sign!  Yes, he could participate in the play, and I acknowledged I would be responsible for transportation.  Yes, she can go to the museum and the $10 is enclosed!  Yes, I looked at the report card!  Yes, I'm coming to the parent/teacher conference!)

I felt like a huge fraud of a good parent, truth be told.   My head was spinning, most days.  I couldn't possibly keep track of what each child was learning, each day, as well as keep up with dentist appointments (check ups every six months for all of us, then those pesky cavity appointments sometimes!), well child check ups, ear infections, sports physicals, orthodontists, then some broken bones thrown in here and there with the physical therapy appointments...)

So I would go to parent/teacher conferences, and hear about how good my kids were, how well they were doing, and the teacher would mention a specific problem they were working on, and perhaps say, "Well you've probably heard all about this, Mrs. W., and have seen it from the homework..."  I would nod, while thinking, if you think I actually have time to remember specific math problems...

When the kids would come home, all excited about doing the Native American project, I would be like, "You're in fourth grade?  Wasn't your sister just in fourth grade?  We have to do another longhouse?

One thing I did work hard on though, was asking each of them about their day, and giving them attention when they got off that school bus.  I did try.  I tried to parent individual kids, no color coded cups or assigned seating nonsense.  

When the whirlwind winds down, and you look at it from the other side, you only hope you did your best, and you know that if you could do it all over again, well, you would!  You would still accept each baby, straight from heaven, and love and cherish them all, as much as possible, but in retrospect,  so much more.