And so it is, we had yet another big snowstorm last week.
This time, I had my eye on the weather, and I knew it was coming. Because I had my eye on the weather, I also knew that temperatures, this week, would be in the high 50's to 60's, signaling that Spring is on its way to being Sprung. So me, being the huge snow aficionado that I am, and recognizing that this will be our last winter in Virginia, made big,
big plans.
In preparation for the biggest storm of the season that was scheduled to hit on Thursday; Wednesday evening my office preemptively announced it would be closed the following day, and all the schools in northern Virginia announced cancellations. Thursday morning, at approximately 7:30 AM, right on schedule, the snow started to fall from the sky, and it didn't stop for the next 12 hours.
By the end of the storm, we'd receive 10-inches.
Thursday, I worked a very full and long day at home; while alternating my glance from my computer screen to the scene outside of our kitchen window and trying to sear in to my memory, the breathtaking natural beauty of our property.
Louie seemed to be doing the same.
Next year, nay ...
four months from now, we won't live here anymore. So following my ritualistic snowy morning walk with Charlie and the dog; and helping the kids get dressed in their multiple layers so they could play, I soaked up what I knew to be our last snow-fall day. At one point I ran outside to sled with the kids, and after a mere 15 minutes, was coated from head to toe in snow.
It was glorious and perfect.
Friday, I worked an abbreviated day, again at home, because the roads were like a well-groomed ski slope and the driving conditions were just bad enough, that Charlie couldn't make it to Starbucks. That's a pretty good gauge on how suitable the roads are... if my coffee-addicted husband cannot make it to the Mother Ship, all bets are off that I'll attempt the nine-mile drive in to the office.
When I wrapped things up, just after noon on Friday, I suited up in my snow gear and ran outside to join our children, and a handful of neighborhood children, who had descended upon our house for the sledding awesomeness that is known as our Back Yard.
With a bright blue cloudless sky, and temperatures that had remained low so the snow from the day prior had remained frozen, the sledding conditions were superb. My excitement was
electric because I had nothing else to do for the rest of the day but PLAY, PLAY, PLAY.
But when I stepped outside to join with the kids, what to my wondering eyes did appear, but my children -
wading in the partially frozen creek. I have told our children COUNTLESS times this winter, and every winter thus passed since we've lived in Virginia to
stay out of the creek in winter.
But do they listen?
No.
What I saw on this
perfect sledding day, were three of our four children (the fourth was playing at someone else's house and might have possibly - had he been here - been able to save his siblings from the Maternal Wrath that descended upon them, because he really has the most logical mind of all) in the water up to their knees,
using their sled as a boat, that they were towing up and down, around the broken ice like a barge plowing through icebergs.
In this makeshift boat sled, were
drenched hats, gloves, scarves, and socks. Socks, that they had somehow managed to remove from their feet in the freezing temperatures. Did all of the neighborhood children do this, you wonder?
No. Just mine. All of the other neighborhood kids, were standing on the banks of the creek telling my kids to get
out of the creek.
But did they listen?
No.
So, I stood at the top of the hill - seeing all of this before me - and I yelled at the top of my lungs, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! WHAT THE {Insert Bad Word} DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?! GOD GAVE YOU A BRAIN, BUT IT DOESN'T WORK UNLESS YOU USE IT!!"
Did I over-react?
Probably.
But, I felt 100% justified in my overreaction because I'VE TOLD THE KIDS BEFORE that they need to stay
out of the creek in the winter because they:
1) Could get injured and/or drown if they fall beneath the thin ice in areas where the water is more than 5-feet deep (of which there are a few);
2) Ruin their gear for as long of a period of time as it takes me to wash and dry it; and
3) Create a colossal mess for me and/or Charlie to clean-up because even when we assign them the responsibility of cleaning it up - they make an
infinitesimally worse mess.
Under the circumstances on Friday, I was particularly peeved because:
1) I worked an exceptionally long day on Thursday (16 hours to be exact), so that I could specifically play with them, on what I expected to be our last "snow day" and...
2) One of the children was wearing MY snow boots, which were now
soaked.
My children were crying and embarrassed because I gave them a WHAT-FOR in front of other people, and then sent them inside to get cleaned up, while I went outside and went sledding with their friends, as they sat by the window and watched, waiting for their garments to dry.
I had fun.
They did not.
Remember: this is what happens when you go wading in the creek in the winter. Really?!
Fast forward two hours. I made several sledding runs, and was having a great time. But beneath my happy demeanor, I was quite disappointed that my beloved children were not with me. So I eventually went inside and told them to wipe their tears, and come out to sled again. And then I dragged Charlie away from his bathroom tiling job, to come with us.
Oh, what fun we all had, sledding and laughing and rejoicing in WINTER!
But then.
I went to the top of the hill that I'd already sled down more than 100 times this winter, and with my sled in my hands, over my head, I declared for all to hear, "
And now, competing for the GOLD MEDAL, representing the United States of America ....!"
The kids were all laughing and wooting as I took off with a running start, from mid-way up our driveway. I threw down my sled and jumped on it, hurtling down the hill at (literally) break-neck speed, head first.
I saw the tree.
And I lifted one side of my sled to skirt around it, as I've done many times before. But this time, my sled wouldn't turn and my trajectory remained straight for a collision with the fir. In a split second, I knew that I was going to hit it and there wasn't a single thing that could be done. There wasn't enough time for a prayer. Nor was there time to jump off the sled, throw my feet down to brake, or raise my arms up to cushion the blow.
The last thought to partially fly through my mind, before I struck the tree was, "ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?! WHAT THE {Insert Bad Word} DO YOU THINK YOU ARE DOING?! GOD GAVE YOU A BRAIN, BUT IT DOESN'T WORK UNLESS YOU USE IT!!"
Perhaps it's because I had lifted my right side, in an attempt to veer left, that my right cheek is what smashed against the tree trunk, instead of hitting it head-on. As I impacted the tree, I could feel my entire spine compress, from my tailbone to the base of my skull. There multiple POPS! that might have only been heard inside my head.
I fell over to my left side and struggled to breathe, because my lungs had been squashed. There were guttural groans as I accepted the reality that I was going to die, right then and there in the backyard.
Thank you for such a wonderful life!
I have no regrets.
Except,
what the heck was I thinking sledding down the steep back hill, riddled with trees, head first without a helmet ... in front of a half dozen children under the age of 12? Dear God. It's no wonder my children cluelessly go about wading through a creek in the winter.
Charlie flew past me on his sled, yelling, "You'll have to settle for the Silver, Baby!" while pelting me with snowballs. He had no idea that I'd been mortally wounded and thought I'd flipped off the sled before I hit the tree.
Henry was the first one on the accident scene, as he slid down next to me on his little saucer. Standing over me, he asked, "Mom, are you OK?" and I groaned. He said something to Charlie about Mom and Blood and my husband came over to inspect. Charlie's eyes flew wide open when he saw my face and the blood dripping off of it, on to the white snow. He tried to help by rubbing snow ON my wounded face, but it turned out,
that wasn't really a help at all.
My strong husband helped me up and escorted me in to the house, with one arm gently around my waist. I couldn't open my mouth, my jaw felt like it had been broken. The head ache was intense; as were the pains along the entire length of my spinal column. My sinuses, which produced blood clots for the next several hours, felt like they'd been ruptured. The abrasion on my skin wasn't so bad, it was the
inside that hurt. Did I break teeth? Did I give myself a concussion?
Charlie was asking why I didn't jump off the sled, or put up my arms, and there honestly wasn't time. In retrospect, if I'd put my arms up, I probably would have broken an arm, or my nose, or my neck.
If this had happened to anyone else, I would have
insisted they go to the hospital to get checked out. But I didn't go, despite Charlie telling me that we should. The difference between us, is that I would have started the car and demand that he get in it. Charlie left a Friday night visit to the ER open as an option, so my more favorable option was to take some Tylenol and a hot shower. The fact that I didn't go signals that YES, I probably did sustain a head injury. It's nice to now have an excuse for my less than rational thinking.
Three days later, I'm feeling better.
I'm also feeling like this might have been a little nudge from the Universe. Consider, when I woke up on Friday morning, I was absolutely
distraught at the thought of leaving the east coast and its awesome winter season, with sledding down wonderfully snow-sloped hills.
But by Friday night, I was beginning to think we should live in an environment without any hills or snow. So, maybe a move to Texas is a good idea, after all.
