We'll frolic and play the Eskimo way . . .

I was home alone here with the girls this weekend.

My husband was away – way far away – in Oregon visiting his sister. I didn’t want to post that I was here alone for fear that stalkers or crazies or escaped convicts would read my blog and come after me in the night (yes, I am totally chicken that way and don’t think for a minute that I didn’t sleep with a big heavy club-like weapon beside my bed), but he is back home now and I feel much better.

That said, we fell victim to an ice storm while he was gone and I did NOTHING to clean up the aftermath.

By the time he pulled in from the airport this morning at 7 a.m. (after 3 hours of sleep on the redeye), the entire driveway and every walkway to the house was a solid sheet of ice. Seriously. If you live in the general area of northern New Jersey and need a place to bring the kids ice skating, come on by. It’s not just the driveway either – it’s the entire yard. We have well over two acres of skating rink right now. BYO skates.

Also? We have a really freaking long driveway. Which is a good part of the reason why I had no interest in going out in a storm and trying to clean it off. It would have taken hours and hello – it was hailing out there and I was soley responsible for two small children. What if I got whacked on the head by falling ice or a tree limb (they are all over the place) or something? So it wasn’t just rampant laziness that kept me inside, but common sense, solid thinking. (That’s my story and I’m sticking to it).

Anyway . . . Poor Mark arrives home after hurtling through the air at 35,000 feet for six hours and is nearly injured just trying to stay upright long enough to make it to the front door. It is treacherous. On my way to the gym this morning, the truck did a gentle, slow slide right toward the gate until I finally remembered (duh) that it has four-wheel drive. Thank God. Though the car may not see the street again until later this week when it warms up above freezing. Mark just sort of slid it 2/3 of the way down the driveway and left it there. (Thanks, dude).

So what, you may be asking, is the point of this post? The point, my dear readers, is that despite the fact that I spent four truly terrifying trips down the walkway to the car and back today, shuffling my feet an inch at a time along a surface so slick I saw a squirrel wipe out as he leapt from a tree (hysterical) and cursing myself for not at least shoveling the walkway (OK, really, if we’re being honest, I was cursing Mark for not being here to do it), late this afternoon while Loaf napped, Peanut and I ventured out – bundled up like Eskimos – and slid all over the yard.

As soon as I relaxed and stopped worrying so much about falling, I found my balance was actually decent. I could get a little speed and slide across the yard in my boots and Peanut did the same. We then sat on our butts or lay on our bellies while we propelled ourselves – sled free – down even the slightest incline. We laughed and squealed and sometimes wiped out, which only made us laugh and squeal more. We held hands and giggled and helped hold each other up. And when it was over, we went inside and sat at the kitchen table sipping hot chocolate and reliving how much fun it was to “ice skate” in our yard.

When she asked me if we could go outside, I didn’t want to go. It was really cold today and I'd already convinced myself that it was foolish to try to walk around on the ice. But in the end, she persuaded me and I’m so grateful she did. What fun! I hope it’s one of those things she always remembers. I know I will.



Our Winter Wonderland