The Injustices of All This Snow Without a Snowday

Well, after being hit with about 15 inches of snow this weekend in our Nor'easter, the girls were very put off this morning to discover that the city school district was only one of very few not to have a snow day. But with this being the last week before Christmas vacation, how can they complain? Beside, we try to tell them they'll appreciate having that extra day at Memorial Day if the weather holds out that long. The snow tapered off last night about 11 and we figured that unless it picked back up again, the crews would be out clearing away side streets and parking lots with no problem. Being in the city school district, as opposed to St. Peter's as in previous years, the girls are at the mercy of the fact that there is no busing of students; they either walk or are driven in by their parents. The whole district -- nay, they whole city -- is only two square miles. There ain't a lot of terrain to cover. However, when they were going to St. Peter's, which had students from districts all over the county and whose enrollment dependended on those districts busing the students in, if a majority of districts closed, so did St. Peter's. That's the trade-off, I guess. But we did get a good dumping, making Jack happy as a clam because it means skiing weather. Now if he can only get some time off to go skiing, sans Baby Brigid. He's chomping at the bit to get Margaret some new ski boots so she, too, can get out there with him.

Speaking of Baby B, she's become a shrieking, screaming maniac. For no apparent reason, she'll let off with shrieks or screams, usually in your face or your ear. We're hoping it's just a stage, but she seems to take great pleasure in it because it bugs me no end. She has also really entered a hitting stage, and will strike out when angry or frustrated. We all have taken to telling her "no hits" and she gets mad and shrieks at us. We'll be employing time outs soon, no doubt. But until a kid is even old enough to understand the meaning of time out, it's wasted. She's getting there, oh yes, she's getting there.

Her climbing has reached epic proportions. I found her sitting in the middle of the dining room table not long ago. The other day, she was sitting on the computer table. She climbs up on my bed and gets down by herself. No small feat because it's a pretty high bed. She also climbs "up" on us. We hold her hands and she braces her feet against our legs, making her way up our legs until we grab her up. She delights in that and says "Up, up, up" with her arms up. Her vocabularly has exploded and she says so many things, and puts words together to make little sentences. I couldn't even beging to list all the things she says, or the sounds that are words to her, that she makes.

She has also become a bit clingy and weepy when you leave her -- even if it's to walk into another room. She'll come running out after me -- Ma-mee, Ma-mee, Ma-mee. I'll say, "Honey, I'm not going anywhere, I'm right here" and she'll bury her head in my legs and hug them. It's kind of heartwarming, actually. You just want to take that head in your hands and hold her there forever. Last night, when I was attempting to check on her before turning in, she caught me and cried out so I picked her up and she hunkered down on my shoulder, with her arms tucked under her body against mine. I threw a blanket on her and sat in "the big chair" and she fell asleep. I could hear her breathing. I took in her smell and the feel of her hair on my cheek. She was an infant again and I was Mommy. I could have held her like that all night, but knowing I needed to get to sleep I was able to make the transfer to her crib without fuss. She woke up again about 5 and Jack brought her into bed for her mah mah mah, or, as she says more often now, "boob." She fell back to sleep and woke up in a great mood, unlike her sisters, who felt a great injustice was done to them. Brigid will someday feel that, too, but for now it's nice to know she's still my baby who only feels what she wants to feel and occasionally what she doesn't.