snow

I can't help it...I love this!
I know it makes driving hellish and I have to scrape my car and whatever other grown-up blah blah blah blah, but I am so so happy when I wake up to see snow coming down.

S and I made christmas cookies over the weekend. He was so excited he could hardly contain himself. He stood on a chair at the kitchen counter and at each new step, he'd look at me with huge eyes, and gasp, "I can help, mama?!?" I'd look right at him and nod solemnly, and every time he'd jump up and down on the chair yelling, "OK!!! Let's DO it!" By the time we were done mixing and rolling and cutting out and baking and cooling and frosting and sprinkling several dozen chistmas-y shapes, the entire house was covered in a fine layer of sugar and I was ready for a drink. (or 4)

I remember my mom making cookies with us. I was always mystified when, near the end of hour two, she'd try to sneak the last fist sized ball of dough scraps into the trash, saying it'd been rolled out too many times and wouldn't taste right. Sunday, when my back was killing from hunching over to kid level, my nerves shot from rescuing child and cookies from six million near disasters, and even my contacts coated with sugar, I so got it. I opened the cupboard under the sink when he wasn't looking, tossed in the wax-paper wraped hunk of unfulfilled cookie potential and flashed back to being eight years old. However, rather than the usual desparation and helplessness that is brought on by realizing that I am becoming my parents afterall; I felt kind of ok. I am juggling a marriage, a house, a family, a job and grad school and studying fetal anatomy and still making crazy lopsided sugary cookies and greeting new snow with a smile on my face.
There is a God. And, apparently, she's on my side.