Snow Days - Not just for kids!

How old were you when you first made a snowman?

Me?

I was 33 years 3 months and 13 days.


I mean, I'm sure I've attempted it before. I may have started and given up when my hands got too wet.  I may have watched other people do most of the building and then popped a carrot nose on at the end. But properly made a snowman? I did that today.

My first memory of snow is sliding down the hillside in a bin bag at my Aunt and Uncle's flat. I must have been young cause my parents were still together. In the same snowfall (I think) my sister and I watched our parents build a snowman together in our back garden. We were in the warm!

Being wet and cold isn't my thing.


A little older, snow days weren't as much fun. Long walks in the parks and woods by my home, crying because 10 minutes in I fell over and put my hand on stinging nettles hidden by snow. Hating getting smashed in the face with a snowball. Having it dumped down the back of my neck because I was never swift enough to get away.

There was enough fun to be had that I still get a little excitement when it snows in the UK. When I lived in Devon it was lovely to see the snow on the moors and I learnt to enjoy the snow merely because it meant a day off school, tucked up inside with a book.

Facing snow as an adult is kinda stressful. It disrupts the routine and get's in the way.

In the last couple of years I've enjoyed the times when the thick flakes have fallen from the sky purely because of the joy it brings my children. The magic and the wonder watching it fall.


And, this year in particular, I've enjoyed it for my own sake too.

I don't know how long the kids will be excited by snow. I won't know when it'll be the last time that they want me to build a snowman with them or when one day they'll look outside the window, shrug their shoulders and go back to their computer games.

And so I wanted to make the most of it.

Don't tell Matt, but it helped that he was working today. At first I felt disgruntled that he was sat at the computer, working from home, forcing us to be quiet so he could concentrate. But when it came to getting out of the house, I'm grateful that I had to do it on my own.

We headed down the road to our local cafe. Enjoying the snow, stopping to take a few photos, attempting to build a mini snowman in their garden whilst we waited for our hot bacon and sausage sandwiches.


Usually, that would be it for me. I step outside for a bit, do a little with them and see them having fun then retire indoors and let Daddy do his thing.

But not this time.

Emboldened by a brief but enthusiastic snowball fight with our neighbours last year, this time I decided that I was going to play in the snow. Matt had to finish his work but I didn't have any. The kids wanted to go out, I had to step up.

And I went out in the garden with my children, we played football and I started on the snowman.

About half way through. I found that I was actually enjoying myself. It wasn't a chore. It was fun.

I had the biggest smile on my face.


I'm damn proud of our lopsided, slightly strange looking snowman. He has a real carrot nose and everything.

(It fell out after we came inside and the whole thing toppled over during the night, but oh well)

And I've realised something. Since having Lily and Ollie I've often taken the role as the sensible adult. I'm often ruled by anxiety and am scared of taking risks. I'm self-conscious and don't want to make a fool out of myself. I'm usually just happy seeing my family be happy.

I'll sit back and hold the coats and bags. I'll wave from the bottom of the ride and take photos. I'll set up the messy activities and clean up. I'll re-iterate the rules and standby to ensure they're enforced.


Today I learnt a lesson about getting involved and experiencing the joy for myself. About stepping out of my comfort zone every now and again. About being the Mum I want my children to remember.

I like to think that we made an enduring memory today. Not just for the kids, but for me too.

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