Hurry mommy! Hurry! There's not going to be any good snow left to play in.
"Aw...why did everybody have to lose my mittens? Everybody always loses all my stuff!"
My mom hurriedly rifles through the clothes in the dryer and pulls out two mismatched socks and places them securely on my hands.
"Well they're not mittens but they'll do." she says as she tucks them securely under my coat sleeve. They feel funny, but the urgency to play in the snow is stronger than the irritating "mittens," and before I know it, the swish of my snow pants carries me like melody to the back door. My boots are heavy, my hat is itchy and I am hardly able to move my arms and legs. The realities of these burdens are whisked away on winter's icy cool breath, and I run as fast as my winter clad feet will carry me... "Watch me mommy, watch me!"...I call back as I run out to meet my sister and brothers in the freshly fallen snow. I look back over my shoulder a few times to make sure she is watching...and faithful as ever, she is. She waves and smiles, assuring me of her watchful presence.

Playing in the cold, wet snow soon becomes tiresome. The socks have become wet and heavy and have begun to droop, exposing my wrists which have begun to sting and have become red and raw. I have lost my hat, which I pulled off forever ago because it was itchy. My ears have become tingly numb and movement under the weight of my wet snow suit has become near impossible.

I slowly trudge back towards the house, which seems to have moved further off into the distance while I was busy playing. The warm glow of the lights in the window beckon to me. I assume the shadowed figure of my mother in the doorway, means that she has stood loyally by and watched me play the whole time. As I enter the house the warm glow feels magical and my mother helps me off with my soggy snow clothes. The tingling in my fingers begins to fade as the warmth of my mother's hands covers them. The smell of spices and seasonings waft out from the kitchen, the dryer is rumbling and the monotonous drone of the television fills the house with the news of the day. I sit at the breakfast bar swinging my feet, sipping my hot chocolate as I watch my mother move effortlessly through the kitchen...putting the finishing touches on dinner. She tucks a wisp of blond hair behind her ear and stirs something bubbling in a pot on the stove. I think she looks like a movie star.

As a child I never stopped to think how my mother could watch me from the doorway, tend to the laundry and cook a delicious dinner all at the same time. These things were just there and done. It did not occur to me, that even for an instant my mother would turn her attention away from me to keep our home running smoothly, not to mention having hot chocolate ready and waiting for me?! How did she do it all so easily?

The bubbling and sizzling of the boiling spaghetti overflowing onto the burner of my stove jerks me back to the present. The boys come charging in from outside. Christopher is upset that he can't get his boots off and Levi is pushing his way through the cluster of shedding snow clothes. I quickly remove the spaghetti from the burner and wipe up the mess. Levi pushes by Christopher one too many times and Christopher pushes back while screaming. Levi tumbles on to the dog who is trying to sneak outside past the boys as they come in. Haley, the dog jumps back knocking Josh down, who was bent over trying to untie his wet laced boots and Cote, who grabbed Haley's collar to prevent her from going outside, has now found himself pinned between the wall and the shocked dog. I rush over to untangle the mess of the Maxwell boys and save poor Haley from the middle of it all. "CALGON?!"

I yell for everybody to freeze and after letting the dog outside, I help them one by one...youngest to oldest...remove and hang up their wet clothes and boots. I send Josh back outside to retrieve his forgotten hat and the poor dog. Chris and Levi and are now running around in their underwear, their bodies all red from the cold still.

I sigh at my feelings of inadequacy. I constantly attempt to create those wonderful memories and feelings for my children that my mother created for me and yet can never quite accomplish it the way she did. But then I am reminded that most of the time, I am not in the house cooking while the boys are playing in the snow...most of the time...when I don't have time for deep contemplation to measure myself against her...those are the times when I am right there on the sled with the boys or helping them to build snow jumps. Those are the nights we have boxed mac & cheese and hot dogs...those are the nights I receive the most accolades for my culinary skills! I may not be my mother but that's okay because I'm their mother! I love my boys!

This was written Feb 11th, 1999
Josh was 9
Cote was 8
Chris was 6
Levi was 4

© Copyright 2010 Christine Maxwell