Today I was feeling very much like the family from A Christmas Story. There were battles with machinery; broken Christmas ornaments; cursing (except this time from the mom); immobilizing snow gear; yellow eyes (me again – or they may just look that way from the dark rings surrounding them); and a kid refusing to eat anything that could be described as a meal. There may also have been someone voluntarily wanting to shoot their own eye out.
We got so much snow this weekend. Yes I know you’re sick of hearing about it. So am I, but I’m also not done whining yet. I was happy with the amount we got yesterday, but not so thrilled with today’s second dumping. Unlike second breakfast, there is just nothing delightful about that. And the snowplow came, which is good, but digging out the end of the driveway was so hard. I think there might be abs somewhere under these layers – something was protesting – it remains to be seen if it was brunch, a hernia, or muscles that had long ago gone into retirement. Nerdguy is supposed to go easy on his back – something that I have to keep reminding him about – he lifted snow tires into my van a couple of weeks ago and buggered it up again. So he wanted to shovel, but I insisted that he shouldn’t.
And then I started to cry. And complain. And say helpful things like “Why didn’t we get the snowblower fixed before the first snowfall?” There was some cursing about the neighbours – except instead of their mangy dogs stealing my turkey, they had snow-blowed a bunch of their snow onto our driveway. Bumpasses!!!
The kids were all on each other, complaining and bossing. And complaining to me about how I was putting snow on their toboggan track. Maggie laid there like a slug (like Randy) in the middle of the track in protest. When I couldn’t take the fighting between Grace and Molly anymore I yelled “Unless you want to go inside there will be no more yelling (except from Mommy apparently), complaining (unless it’s about the hardship of Mommy having to do manual labour), or crying (unless you want to come cry with Mommy on the porch).
I heard the irony in everything I was saying. Just as the father in the movie was teaching his kid how to say “fudge” I was modeling all the wrong things for my kids. And they are watching. And I need to learn how to cope with frustration better if I expect them to be able to.
In the meantime, I will leave you with some humour because humour is my favourite, calorie-free coping mechanism. I posted my favourite Rick Mercer Clip on Facebook yesterday. I post it every year on the first big snowfall. It was a parody of when former Mayor of Toronto Mel Lastman called in the army to help with snow removal in 1999. At the time I had been living in Ottawa for a year and a half, and had just come through the Ice Storm of 1998. We were laughing quite a bit at Toronto back then. It seemed ridiculous that they couldn’t get through a little bit of snow. But today I have to say that I was ready to call them in myself. I apologize Mr. Lastman. I never should have laughed.
But I will continue to laugh at this Rick Mercer clip because I can’t help myself. Enjoy. Well unless you send your kids to Montessori school, drive a Lexus, or wear Isotoner gloves – you may just want to skip this one. I will be sitting here with this bar of Lifebuoy soap in my mouth thinking about what I’ve done.