best medicine

With temperatures now in the 50s and 60s as opposed to those hovering around zero last week, the blanket of snow that tucked us in at home for a good ten days or so (with a few exceptions) is melting rapidly.  In spite of all my yammering about cabin fever and cracking of potty jokes, I must admit the time spent at home was -- for the most part -- peaceful, pleasant, and suffused with grace.

Still, humbling as it is to admit, I am prone to gloominess at the prospect of being unable to get out and about at my whim.  When I sense this mood coming on, I try to put it in perspective by thinking of the untold numbers of people who simply do not have the same freedom due to infirmity or even political circumstance.   Such realizations help snap me out of my pity party.  

We are humbly blessed to have been able to retreat from the world and ride out the impassable conditions without much recourse.  My beloved was able to work from home (albeit with one or more bambini pressing noses up to the glass in his home office door wanting to make appointments with him), and we pretty much stuck to the routine (ever-evolving as it may be).  I was truly grateful not to have to answer to the alarm clock after the usual multiple rousings each night to tend to one or more bambini.  And my laundry-folding table stayed refreshingly visible throughout the week, as I was able to process the loads of clean laundry in smaller batches rather than chipping away at the usual mountainous pile. 

On Friday the elder lad returned to school, and we went to school Mass.   It was our first real outing in a week.  Our Kindergartner sat with us this time rather than with his class as he usually does because we were celebrating Catholic Schools Week -- observed a week behind schedule because of the snow days the previous week -- and there had been a special invitation issued to families for this particular Mass (not that they aren't always welcome at school Mass, because they are).  After receiving Communion, I watched the elder lad walking ahead of me spontaneously grasp his little brother's hand as they navigated through the lines of people back to our pew.  I thought I just might dissolve in a puddle of Mama mush at the sight of it.

The white out of the past two weeks is now a colorful memory.  We were all definitely ready for a change of scenery.  Emerging from our cave to go to Mass was more than that, though.  As it had been for us the first week of the snowstorm when we'd gotten out to go to Sunday Mass at our home parish, school Mass on Friday was the best medicine ever prescribed.

cabin fever cure

Some loyal readers might wonder if cabin fever resulting from more than a week of snowbound conditions has induced me to plumb the depths of decency and post about such things as Honeywagons.  Perhaps (well, that and a sinus infection).  But really, 'tis the season.

My daily doings include a lot of time spent dealing with such (in)delicate matters, so I've chosen to take a light-hearted approach and go with the flow.

(oh, sorry -- there I go again.)

It's nothing a little homemade baked potato soup and brownies won't remedy (along with a trip in my Honeywagon to the doctor for antibiotics -- much as I loathe them -- to clear up my sinus infection *and* a weather forecast calling for temperatures near 50 degrees this weekend)...

some lowbrow humor

One built-to-order "honeywagon" I commissioned from the elder lad (still home on snow furlough) while I was changing diapers this morning:

That's me driving.  Note the windshield.  A must.

***

Mama has been getting some static at the prospects of drawing pictures and writing stories, but I found a clear channel this afternoon with this:

(pardon my slanted handwriting -- that's not what it typically looks like)

Super Silly Mad Libs Junior.  To wit:

At The Candy Store

My favorite store is the chewy Spot candy store.   They have more pickles than you can fit in your arm.  There are chocolate-covered pencils, tasty jelly beans, and orange never-ending lollipops.  You can fart them for hours and they never shrink!  One time, I dared my gross little brother to stick five super spicy toilets in his eyelid for a full minute.  After ten seconds, he started to punch and then his face turned all sticky. My mom got so fat when she found out.  I wasn't allowed to squeeze any kind of prunes for a whole month.  Boy did I learn a sweet lesson!  Next time, I'll dare him to put them in his brain instead.

Toilet humor never fails to elicit lots of giggles -- even from the mama who has to read "f-a-r-t" over and over again.  I thought the ditty paired nicely with the Lego Honeywagon.

Next thing I knew, the lad was reading from the list of word choices for each symbol (alas, universally-appealing potty words included) and writing them himself to create this Pizza Party story:

Not exactly literature, but noteworthy none the less -- mostly for the laughter it brought forth from all of us.

the snowy day

We don't get knee-deep snow with drifts taller than Kindergartners all that often around these parts:

Tucked under our blanket of white, snow day activities included ...

 

 

 

The two-year-old lass insists her daddy made all that snow out there.  The elder lad set her straight: "God did that."

Virginia Lee Burton's books

With snow in the forecast, there is  much discussion of snow plows.  There are lads beside themselves with excitement at the prospect of driving their Tonka trucks through the snow in the backyard, there is one lass who is very determined to put her boots on and get out there too, and there is Virginia Lee Burton's Katy and the Big Snow.   It's one of our favorite books.

Katy is a big tractor at the disposal of the town of Geoppolis.  After one doozy of a blizzard, she dons a snow plow and clears streets otherwise impassable even for other snow plows.  With dogged determination she keeps working until the doctor can get his patient to the hospital, the firetruck can get to the fire, and the rest of the city get on with life. 

We first met Burton's magical work in Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel, about one old-fashioned steam shovel named Mary Anne and her devoted operator Mike Mulligan who wouldn't relegate her to the junkyard in favor of one of those new-fangled gasoline-, electric- or diesel-powered shovels.  He claims he and Mary Anne can do the work of 100 men in no time flat.  After some high-profile jobs digging canals for ocean liners and cellars for skyscrapers, Mike Mulligan and Mary Anne are left to find work outside the limelight.  Modern times might have meant the end of the steam shovel in most places, but Mike Mulligan and Mary Anne find a way to keep serving together.

Time, progress, and efficiency play a central role in Burton's The Little House, about a house built in the country that watches a city grow up around it.  The house is abandoned and falls into disrepair, but eventually a descendant of the house's original owners returns to love it back to life.   This book won the Caldecott Medal in 1942 for illustrations. 

As in The Little House, Maybelle the Cable Car centers on a symbol of a bygone era and its struggle to stay current.  In San Francisco the cable cars have long been a fixture of public transportation, but there is a faction of folks who think they should be replaced by buses and other more modern and efficient vehicles.  Maybelle and her sister cable cars show they are still as relevant as ever in serving the city's transportation needs.

One of the all stars of children's literature, Virginia Lee Burton illustrated the charming stories she wrote in the 1930s, 1940s, and 1950s with intricate detail.  They are a visual feast and auditory pleasure for both the one reading aloud and the one(s) listening -- almost enough to distract from the wonder of powdered snow outside the window when it's time to thaw out from all that cavorting through the stuff, if only for a little while....