I don’t want to bore my east coast readers with a diabtribe of how depressing it gets when it snows as much as it has this year. As someone who is normally delighted and fascinated with snow (as a native Arizonan), the process of continually closing daycares at the slightest prediction of flaky white, leaving parents stranded with no hope of relief while trapped in their homes–is brutal and exhausting–and it seems our condo has been growing smaller with each passing frigid day. I ran into one of the moms in my son’s daycare class yesterday who told me she just started wearing concealer for the first time this week due to “rough conditions at home” between the snow, her kids’ schools/daycare closing, and holding down the fort with 3 kids. On top of it, my husband, son, and in-laws had planned a weekend trip this past weekend, which we eventually cancelled due to cold, icy conditions. There’s a reason it’s called Winter Blues and not Winter Happiness.
I can’t remember the last time I felt bored, but this past weekend I found myself wishing I knew how to knit or sew, that I still enjoyed reading fiction, or watching reality tv, yet I felt completely uncompelled to learn or try any of these things.
After unsuccessfully attempting to convince my husband to play monopoly and/or scrabble with me about a dozen times, we spent most of the weekend cooking and baking, yet somehow ate out for most of our meals. I have nearly all of the Martha Stewart cookbooks, but I especially love her two cookbooks on Cookies and Cakes because of their encyclopedic nature. These were a white chocolate and chocolate chunk cookie (I improvised a little) that we made into ice cream sandwiches with some salted caramel ice cream. These cookies are the first I’ve ever made from scratch, and it’s a well-known, independently tested fact that when the weather drops below 25 degree F, calories don’t count and salted caramel ice cream sandwiches register in the body the same way as apples wrapped in kale.
Another family member not concerned with his belly size: my son. I was even too lazy to take out my camera this past weekend, until Judah started doing these funny poses.
Tyra Banks take note.
Pop the chest,
Pivote left thigh,
Accentuate the jawline,
Elongate the legs.
Is my diaper-toe showing?
Cookie break. Even models need to fuel-up.
At his feet on the couch are about 17 various-sized 80s-style cell phones Judah made with dad (they each have an antenna). Even my 2 year old at some point during our entrapment began demonstrating obsessive-compulsive behavior. That was the result.
The only disappointing aspect of these ice cream sandwiches? Between mixing them up, baking them off, cleaning up, and scarfing them down (only a few minutes), the entirety of the process only spanned about an hour and half, leaving us with so many more hours to fill with fantasies of spring.
Wishing you warm jet streams!