Crawling out of Winter

I'm afraid we've been kind of AWOL lately. And by "lately," I mean "for the last two months."

To say I'm not winter's biggest fan would, of course, be an understatement. Even as a kid, when my family would get all bundled up for a full day of skiing the slopes at the resorts near our home, I pulled out a good book and asked for what percentage of the day I would be allowed to curl up with hot cocoa at the lodge. I hate being cold.

So let's just say that surviving Saskatchewan's coldest winter in 30 years is a fairly major accomplishment for me. Did I do it gracefully? Not so much.

January and February were so cold that it was physically painful. We woke every morning to windows crusted with ice on the inside, and temperatures so low it's difficult to wrap my brain around them even now. -30? What does that even mean? Although our home is incredibly heat-efficient (it's a priority in homes in this area), no four walls could shut out the creeping, paralyzing cold. Every day we sent the kids out the door bundled up to the teeth, with snowpants, thick mitts, scarves, hats, hoods, and boots. That was just to make it to the schoolbus and back—recesses were cancelled pretty much every day due to frostbite risk. Because no amount of cold shuts down life in this city, the schools didn't close, and even our weekly playgroup soldiered through each and every week. Thank goodness. Those Wednesday mornings huddled around the adult snack table while the kids rode around on tricycles and played ball in an indoor gym kept me somewhat sane—I won't claim full competency.

Then came March. It warmed up a little. And by "a little," I mean "by a degree." March was almost worse than the months before it simply because I expected, wanted, craved some sunshine and warmth so desperately. At the end of the month, deep puddles had accumulated in the middle of our street as evidence of meltage, but that was about all the evidence we got. No flowers, no blossoms, just miles and miles of muddy, grey snow.

Am I making this sound worse that it really was? I’m not sure. Maybe. At the time it felt rather awful, but when I string it all together like that, without our fun Valentine’s Day celebration or the trips to the Science Center with friends on Friday and extra movies on Toonie Tuesday at the theater just down the street, I’m probably being a little unfair. We did make it through, with the cabin fever to show for it, and if you ask the kids, they even enjoyed it part of the time. Too much television was watched, yes, but there were the days when we sledded in the gully next to the bookstore for as long as we could stand the wind, then traipsed inside for the hottest hot cocoa they could legally serve us. I gained a new appreciation for the public library, for indoor shopping malls, and for my gigantic canvas shopping bags that limit the number of trips needed between the car and the house.

I also learned one important lesson. When we moved here, I unfairly judged people as being excessively sad and depressed. “Sucking on a pickle,” I think, is how Aaron once phrased it. Now I’m amazed that they’re able to be as cheerful as they are. I find myself being the Eeyore at every party now (I’m working on that). Seasonal depression is a real thing, I’ve decided, and I think I came down with a case this winter.

Oh, and one more thing I learned: I don’t actually want to stay here for seven to ten years after all. We’re officially looking at other jobs and places to live. Which is sad, because there’s a lot to love here, but yikes—another winter like this one might just pull me under!

So, I should squeeze some good stuff into this entry too. Our Valentine’s Day was the best ever. I finally figured out that “after-Christmas clearance” doesn’t really start until February. So I found each of the kids a cool toy and surprised them with heart-shaped pancakes and surprises on their chairs at breakfast. They were so excited! Aaron and I also finagled a fancy dinner at Skara and a movie. I so adore this valentine of mine. He’s incredibly smart, talented, and best of all, mine! He’s done a far better job than I of weathering this brutal winter . . . and he’s from California. I’m pretty sure I owe him big-time for this, along with a promise to do better next winter. And I will. Really. Cross my heart.