Monday, March 17, 2014

I'm Dreaming of a White St. Patrick's Day...

Said no one ever.

And yet, that's exactly what we've got.

Poor Mother Nature.  She's really been getting beat up on Facebook these past couple days.  I've seen posts ranging from "Go Home, Mother Nature, You're Drunk," to "DIE WINTER DIE," to various other comments critiquing the Bi-Polar episodes the weather has been suffering from lately.

And I get it, I do.  They've already added thirty minutes on to every school day (which is sort of hilarious, because on the day of the scheduled implementation of extra time, school was ironically closed due to-- you guessed it-- inclement weather).  At this rate, summer vacation will begin for teachers at about the time we're ready to come back in August.

But, still.  How often, on St. Patrick's Day, do you get a chance to make one of these:

She looks bigger than she actually is.  (My mother decided she was a she.  I didn't really think about it, just assumed it was a guy.  I supposed that's sort of sexist of me, but hey, so is the term "Snowman."  And since she is wearing my hat--with sparkly glitter threads woven throughout, nonetheless-- I guess she is a girl.  Or a snowman who is very comfortable with his sexuality). 

Still, even though she's small, I'm pretty proud of her.  Granted, it has snowed approximately four million times so far this year, so much so that Kaliah asked me today if Delaware looks completely white from outer space.  But none of the previous snowstorms brought the good-for-packing snow.  I was beginning to think the problem was me, that I just wasn't talented enough to make the snow stick together.  I thought maybe I'd reached a new low in life, because, really... how hard should it be to make snow form a few snowballs?

But then this most recent snow arrived, and I could tell the difference as soon as Kaliah and I started rolling it.  It wasn't me, after all.  This snow, this was the sticky kind.  So behold:  The St. Patty's Day Snow Woman.

We'll call her Pat.

Mother Nature does get a bad rep when she goes on these wild mood swings.  (Funny how we assume snowmen are dudes but nature is a lady).  I guess she's entitled, though.  If I were responsible for the whole entire world's weather, it would be even more sporadic and crazy and unpredictable than it's been, even throughout this wacky winter.  And I wouldn't apologize for it, either.

After all, it's a big world out there.  There's a lot to keep up with.

And as for making up her mind and sticking to it?

Who are we to judge?  I can't tell you the number of decisions I'm juggling with right now, but I bet you've got just as many.  From the mundane, like deciding what to fix for dinner or what kind of damage control my hair is in need of, to the life changing--like is my career going where I want it to?

It's a miracle my child and I make it out the door fully clothed each morning, with all the stuff I'm thinking about.

I've been told I wear my heart on my sleeve, that I care too deeply and feel too much.

I know, of course, that this is true.  But my feelings are what make me who I am.  I don't always take criticism or rejection well (fun times on the publishing endeavors, let me tell you!), and I tend to overreact in all kinds of situations--to get too excited or take something too much to heart.  To dwell on something I've done wrong or to overanalyze the tiniest details.  But this same sensitivity makes me a better mother, a better listener, a better friend.  I'd like to hope a better writer.

And my child, my colleagues, and my friends know that the volcanic emotional eruption comes with the territory.  They know when to get out of the way and give me my space, or when I just need a hug.

So give nature a break.  Sure, she can't make up her mind lately.  She's been a bit moody--furious storms, smiling suns, gentle breezes, and God forbid--more snow--she's going through something, maybe, but who among us isn't?

You can't get the rainbows without the rain.

And you CAN make a snow woman on St. Patrick's Day!!

So while I'm not Irish, I do consider myself lucky.  More than lucky, actually--blessed.  I pray that all of you are blessed as well, and that if, much like Mother Nature, you're struggling to make up your mind about something--that you accept each day for what it's worth--another incredible day in your journey.  No matter how far you are from your destination, you are somewhere today.  And that's worth celebrating.

Just ask Pat.  I doubt she thought she'd be here in March, but here she is.

And that, my friends, is something more than even the luck of the Irish.

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