Believe me, the novelty factor doesn’t last long in this
house. By day 3 the children think they’d rather stay inside in the
warm. We are up for just getting them out enjoying it, and all they can say is
“aww Mum, but we went out yesterday and the day before.” (To be fair to Ben,
the first day it snowed he went out at 11am, once it had settled, and did not
come inside again until 4.30pm, so he had had his fill of it.)
Looking at all the sledders on our local hill, the Nower, I think
the parents were getting more out of throwing themselves down the slope than
the children.
There was a great deal of ‘which is best sledge for speed’
comparison, and friendly ‘who’s the fastest’ competition going on. Again, just
between the adults. (I came in the top three in all my races, by the way.)
Snow seems to be becoming a regular, annual or bi-annual event
now. I remember wishing for snow to settle as a child, I am sure it was hardly
ever sledge worthy.
I never believe it until I see it, so when it arrives, I suddenly
find ourselves completely ill equipped in terms of warm waterproofs, snowman
and snowball-making suitable gloves, or snow boots. Unless that is, someone in
our street has grown out of their ski wear and passed it on. You can’t buy any
from anywhere in walking distance and the snow makes you reluctant to take the
car out to purchase some proper snow clothing. Besides which, I want to be
sledging not shopping!
We muddle through though. I lend my own waterproof snowboarding
mittens to one child, and my school ski trip salopettes from when I was 12, to
another. We get out the waterproof trousers with thick socks and wellies and
layer up. Patrick has a waterproof glove on one hand and a woollen one on the
other, and Ben has another pair of mine which is only worn through on one
finger.
The two youngest hate wearing big coats, so they have thin
cagoules with body warmers over the top. Rachel’s waterproof is an all in one
suit and takes an age to get on and off, particularly with all the layers. It
is a feat just to get them out of the door all done up like Eskimos. Although I am sure Eskimos have a better system.
We also have feet size issues. Rachel can’t have extra thick socks
as then her wellies don’t fit. Patrick does need an extra pair in his boots. He
was very embarrassed though when we were out and the only extra socks I had in
my bag were pink. The juxtaposition of wanting warm feet versus wearing his
sister’s socks proved tricky for him.
“Quick!” he urged, sat in the snow with his feet up, while I
struggled with the socks, “don’t let anyone see!”
Socks and boots are confusing for them, what was simple in the
morning becomes a struggle later, as cold, wet feet are hard to get socks onto,
and when they forget the extra pair, the kids might easily perceive it is their
feet that keep changing size.
It is getting easier than in previous years, where we had to
assist all of them to tog up to go outside, only to find they could only cope
with the cold for 10 minutes, before they’d all want to come back in, and we’d
have to help take it all off again. Of course, then they’d decide after another
10 minutes, just as you finish hanging all the clothing up on radiators, that
they would like to go and play in the snow again.
I think during one snow episode, I spent most of the day in the
hallway, booting and gloving them up, dressing and undressing different
children and hanging sodden clothes. Not only for our own four kids, but for
all the neighbours’ children, who would come inside to play too.
Nowadays it is mainly just the odd boot tug, sock and glove
assistance, radiator hanging, and puddle mopping that is required of me.
The great thing is, that this tiresome kitting out of children to
cope with the snow and ice, is mercifully short lived. I found it such a faff
getting out on a school morning with the added time pressure. Minutes ticked by
while we rushed around finding and fighting over gloves, making sure they had
with them their school shoes to change into, in a named bag, and hats and
scarves, on top of the usual; drink, fruit, homework, lunch scenario. It was
exhausting.
One school morning, I met Ben in the corridor coming from his
classroom, still wearing his wellies and holding up Patrick’s shoes, which I
had obviously put in Ben’s named bag by mistake.
“Look” said Ben exasperated “these are Patrick’s!”
“Oh dear,” I said “let’s find him and swap them over, he’ll be
down by his peg.”
We walked together to the other end of the school and found
Patrick staring down at his feet in a rather bemused way, wondering, as his
little feet swam in Ben’s big size 4s, whether his feet might have shrunk in
the cold.
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