an ode to the mothers of wintertime

On Sunday I was running into Fleet Farm behind Rory and Ivar. I had Elsie on the hip, my purse and a caribou coffee. Elsie kept sliding down because our poof jackets are both so slippery. And as I hobbled towards the store, waving with my coffee to the car that stopped for me, I had this swell of Minnesota pride. I thought, “dang. we are seriously tough in this state.” My cheeks were frozen, Elsie was gasping for air and we finally made it into the warm store. I must have made some sort of whooping sound, because people were looking at me when I walked in. I smiled and wanted to celebrate with them, "Hello! I made it!"

Rory and Ivar were already pushing through the aisles, and Elsie insisted she sit in the big part of our cart. She quickly took off her boots, coat, hat, hair bow and made herself at home. And it was then that I discovered that a kids boot, up in the front basket snug between a big purse and the side of the cart, makes for a perfectly stable coffee cup holder.

There are some things only the mothers of wintertime know. Discovering this kids-boot-turned-coffee-cozy made me feel like I had found yet another secret survival skill for these bitter cold days.

Then today I put a picture up on Instagram of our barn, nearly invisible at 2 pm because of the blizzard that was happening in our farm yard. We get awesome drifts here because there is no grove where the main barn used to be. The wind was incredible, and just as I posted this picture, someone posted a picture of their feet in flip flops out for a walk with their kid in a stroller.

The two images side by side struck me dumb. For I haven't been out of the house since Sunday, the day we went to Fleet Farm. I've been hibernating, attempting to do my workout video with two eager exercise helpers ("mom, you're supposed to touch your toes. like she does it."), cooking stew, creamy pastas and soup. Seeing this other picture reminded me that some people raise their children in milder climates. Some people take their kids for walks wearing flip flops on January 8th.

But then I remembered the lesson from Sunday, and came to one helpful conclusion: you can't make a coffee-cozy out of a flip flop.

Add that to the pros list of living in the snowy-blowy land of winter.

Obviously none of this is meant to discredit any mom raising their kids in warmer climates. Motherhood is a ride no matter what the weather. I'm just here to say for the record: the mothers of wintertime are tough stuff.