Dear Kid,

Every now and then the Universe pops up and hands me a little present. I am always careful to say “Thank you” most politely because that’s what one does when the Universe goes out of its way to be kind.

A few years ago, the gift was when doctors decided that wine has important health benefits and therefore a cup full of vino is the medicine going down. Yippee and Thank You.

Then the medical profession decided that coffee has heart benefits. This has nothing to do with actual benefits (I’m sure it’s just great marketing from the coffee cartel) but what do I care whether it’s real or not? The docs say “Drink coffee,” I say make it a strong one. And Thank You.

The best part is that I never intended to change my behavior (Coffee’s not good for me? Unfortunate. I’ll still drink the same amount.). But having the Universe’s blessing for my behavior makes me feel loved and special and much less guilty.

Now, once again, the Universe has handed out a completely unexpected present. This one may be the silliest one ever, but since it is a Proven Scientific and Medical Fact, who am I to argue?

The Universe has declared that it is unhealthy to make your bed every morning.

Didn’t see that one coming, did you?

This, of course, proves that I am The Most Knowing of All Mothers You’ve Ever Had because I only insisted you actually make your bed about twice a year (on the same days I made my bed—namely, when Grandma was visiting). I am so far ahead of my time, it’s crazy.

You do not need to point out that “ahead of my time” and “lazy” in this case refer to the same thing.

I don’t particularly care for bed-making. I find it is a great way to break my nails and all I do is mess it up a pretty bed all over again. It’s a thankless job (in my opinion) so I skip it on a regular basis (and by “regular basis” I mean “daily”). It’s perfectly fine with me if someone else makes the bed; in fact, I like climbing in to a freshly made bed. I just don’t like it enough to do the actual bed-making in the first place.

There are people who do like making the bed (or who think they do since the habit is so ingrained). To them I say “Have at it” just don’t ask me to do the same thing. And now the Universe says we have a Good Excuse not to make the bed.

The reason making your bed is unhealthy is dust mites. Dust mites are the invisible creatures who live in our linens and chow down on the billions of skin cells we shed. The dust mites poop invisible mite poop and we sneeze. Not good for the allergy-affiliated among us. (In a scientifically significant oversight, it turns out that dust mites and dust dragons are not related.)

It turns out that dust mites prefer nice moist skin cells. The kind that get tucked in every morning when someone makes the bed. They are much less excited about eating dried up skin cells (the kind that dry out every day when you don’t make the bed).

So now you have a scientific reason for not making the bed. And sneezing is once again entirely up to you.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

Today’s post is called Booker Bounding Through the Snow because it’s snowing and Booker went bounding.

The good news is the snow is big, fat, fluffy flakes and there is almost no wind. Also it’s warmer than it’s been in the last few days, so it is quite beautiful out. If you saw our street in a movie, you wouldn’t think it was realistic. THAT’s how pretty it is outside.

The other news (see how positive I can be?) is that all those snowflakes have ganged up and there are a LOT of them out there.

The snow is deeper than a Booker’s shoulders (and deeper than an entire Booker in places).

But the soft snow and the nice temps meant the boy was twelve kinds of happy and went bounding – porpoise-style – through the front yard. And the side yard. And the neighbor’s driveway. And to the across the street neighbor’s backyard.

And while it was beyond adorable to watch his long ears flap with each bounce, it was less adorable to climb through the snow banks (which are deeper than a mom’s boots) to fetch him.

Tomorrow I leave for Las Vegas so with luck the snow will not be a problem. (Dear Burglars: Don’t get excited. I’m the only one going. Everyone else will be home including our vicious attack dog. Also, we have nothing worth stealing.)

Have a great day, kidlet.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

It snowed the other day here.

That’s not big news since it snowed pretty much everywhere including on several tropical islands.

Tal was absolutely beside herself (which is difficult) seeing snow for the first time. She loved seeing the puppy’s paw prints in the snow—too cute.

Speaking of the puppy, he went nose first. During the early morning hours, a deer had crossed in front of the house and gone down the driveway. Booker stopped to sniff each hoof print, run a DNA analysis, and file the information. I’m sure it was all very accurate, but there were a lot of hoof prints, so the process took a while.

I wonder what he thinks when he does all that sniffing.

“I wasn’t just sniffing. I was securing the perimeter.”

I thought about asking how his nose could secure the perimeter, but then decided perhaps it was better not to inquire.

By this morning, most of the remaining snow had turned to ice (due to the melting and refreezing action of pressure from tires—see the things I remember from high school physics?). The ice did not please our furry friend who attempted to solve the problem by walking without any of his feet touching the ground.

Of course, trying to levitate took most of his attention so he wasn’t getting around to doing the things a puppy goes outside in the morning to do.

Finally we discovered an actual bit of grass where said business could be attended to and the Great Blockage of 2014 was avoided.

Hope you’ve thawed somewhat by now.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

As I believe I may have mentioned, it is cold. And going to get even colder. (O, Joy.)

Note: Yes, it’s the same image as yesterday, but due to a technical yark! not everyone got to see it.

While there are people who love the winter and the cold, I am not one of them. I like one good snow accumulation a year, where you can go outside and appreciate the amazing job Mama Nature has done decorating the trees and come inside and be warm. I do not like sub-zero temperatures and howling winds—especially when I have to Go Places and show up looking more or less presentable.

As I have also mentioned, I am in charge of my own happiness. And while I completely believe in the value of a good kvetch now and then, there are some things (like the weather) I just don’t have any ability to control. Since I can’t control the speed or viciousness of the howling winds, I decided to make a list of The  to try to keep some balance in my perspective.

1. Next summer, when it is 95 degrees and 300% humidity, we can look back on this with fondness regret happiness…ok, we can just look back.
2. No one can complain that “it just isn’t winter without snow.”
3. It’s easy to justify hot chocolate, marshmallows, and brandy (for medicinal purposes only).
4. A roaring fire seems sort of silly when it’s shorts and T-shirt weather.
5. You don’t have to mow the snow.
6. You have a good excuse for hat hair.
7. Snowmen. You just can’t build them in the summer.
8. The winter Olympics.
9. Sweaters, scarves, layers, boots, and my entire winter wardrobe.
10. It’s never too hot to sleep.
11. Snow days.
12. Snuggling.

Stay warm, sweetie.

Love, Mom

Dear Kid,

In case you hadn’t heard, it is cold. Cold as in stick your head in the freezer to warm up. Cold as in the mercury has fled to the bottom of the thermometer and is huddling there refusing to peek out. Cold as in negative numbers. Cold.

Not only is it cold (have I mentioned it’s not tropical?) we’ve had a fair amount of snow followed by big trucks  putting down whatever it is they use to melt snow these days.

As you may recall, Booker’s delicate tootsies object—strenuously—to the snow-melting stuff.

Today he took those objections to an entirely new level. Did he pick up a paw for me to clean off (as he has often done in the past)? No, not exactly. That silly little boy tried to pick up all four feet—at the same time. Have you ever seen a dog try to retract all four legs while not lowering his already low-slung body to the ground? It works in cartoons. In real life on a slippery road at 6am, not so much.

So, being the kind of mom that I am, I picked him up before he sprained a stomach muscle (or his ego), wiped off his paws, and put him back down in deeper snow. He took two steps out of the snow, right back to where he’d been, and gave me a reproachful look that said, “Why didn’t you sweep this stuff off the road?” Then he hunched in on himself and refused to move. Coaxing didn’t move him. The Look did not move him. Even when next-door-neighbor Andy backed his car into the road and prepared to run us down (I’m sure he’d have done it gently—he’s a good guy), Booker refused to move. He just shut his eyes against the headlights. Death must be better than walking! Maybe, but I scooped him up and carried him back to our house. He began to shiver to better express the pathetic-ness of his situation.

Once we got halfway up the driveway, I wiped his paws (again) and put him down. I took several steps into the lovely fresh clean snow on our lawn.

Me: Come on, baby
Booker (balefully): Why?
Me: You like snow
Booker (channeling Eeyore): Not today
Me: Come on, baby
Booker: No
Me: Booker, you need to take advantage of being outside
Booker (leaving Woebegone and moving on to Petulant): Do not. I’ll hold it
Me (using my Mom Voice): I can wait
Booker: Fine (two tiny drops of yellow appeared on the snow). I’m going in. You stay here if you want, but I’m going in.

Once we got inside, he resumed shivering to emphasize how it was my fault he was cold and, um, unrelieved.

“There you go,” I said as I finished drying him off. “Ready for breakfast?”

Instantly, all shivering forgotten, Booker became the happiest animal on the planet. Joy radiated from every inch of his being. (There aren’t many inches, but he packed a lot of radiance into each one.) Never before has breakfast been greeted so enthusiastically (Snoopy danced for suppertime, not breakfast). He spun, he skidded across the floor, he raced over to tell his toy skunk, he zoomed back to the kitchen before I could change my mind, discovered I was still taking off my boots, and began the process all over again.

Silly puppy.

Hope your day is filled with more joy and less Eeyore.

Love, Mom

 To everyone hit by Winter Storm Hercules–stay safe!