my pink toes

It's acually snowing here today. I know by national standards, it's no big deal to get snow on Thanksgiving weekend. But by Seattle standards, it's quite unusual. We don't get much snow here - some years, not any - and usually not until January. But here I am, online-Christmas-shopping away, watching the snow come down through my window. It's so peaceful, and yet unsettling.

I grew up in eastern Washington, where snow is common and plentiful. I even took my driver's test in the snow. We always had studded snow tires and drove wherever, whenever. I distinctly remember Dad shoveling the driveway on Sundays to get a headstart for the next day's commute, and him dragging us around the yard by our ankles, getting snow in our pants and wedged up our backs. We would all run inside after for hot chocolate and a sit-down on the heat register. We would fight over who got to stick their cold feet under the dog's warm belly.

Here, snow is a different thing entirely. Many non-natives tease us mercilessly for our snow-phobia. It's true, the city does come to a screeching halt when the white stuff flows down. But as an adult, I've seen reasons for the panic. We have hills here, lots of hills. Also, when it snows here, it's often just barely on the temperature bubble between rain and snow and the precipitation transforms fluidly from solid to liquid throughout the day. That means that the beautiful snow we wake up to will melt into a slush and then freeze into a slippery, unpredictable sheet of ice by nightfall. Repeat this layer upon layer, and you can see we are driving on an complicated strata of uncertainty.

When I was a teacher, I loved the snow days as much as any student - they were "free" days for me, too! But now as my life includes my own children and more complicated responsibilities, I am more wary of the snow. Now I have two little lives in my car, at the whim of my and other drivers' abilitites to manuever the ice and sleet of varying degrees.

I'm off to meet my extended family at Nana's house. I know the children will be estatic, and I want to share in their joy. I will laugh and guess with them the probabilities of having school canceled tomorrow, or at least a late start. But deep down, I will worry. This is one of the ways motherhood has changed me irrevocably.