A Mummy's Winter Rant

Winter in New England means several things.  Winter in general means several things, but the extra-added layer of bitter cold has put us in a space that isn't just dark and heading into Christmas (on which more in a moment), but also mostly indoors.  Not that we don't ever go outside anymore - we even played on the playground this morning (and I would so have pictures for you all except that my cell phone had died without my having noticed) - but it does mean that it takes a lot longer to get there.

Note: this was taken when we got home from our morning outing.  If it had been taken when I'd first gotten him into the coat-mittens-boots-hat ensemble, it would have been a video of a screaming, crying, flailing child and I'd have been hauled in by DSS.  The irony, of course, being that I'm actually doing my child a favor by covering him up and keeping him warm on this 25°day.  25° now, mid-morning, when the sun is out, mind you.  Not at 9am when we left the house and it was flurrying.  Either way, it takes a lot to get us to leave the house anymore.

And so, on some level, I understand the parents that we see in all those indoor activities - playgroups and reading groups and indoor children's activity centers.  I understand not wanting to deal with screaming and tears and the very real possibility of getting decked in the face and having your glasses go flying across the room.

What I don't understand is the mother I saw today who had her little girl - about Asa's age - out in Crocs.  Seriously?  Crocs and dainty ankle socks?  Sneakers - that's cool, I almost had Asa in his sneakers today.  But Crocs?  I also don't understand the lack of hats and mittens.  Asa hates both with a passion unrivaled by anything I've ever seen.  But he wears both whenever I do, and after the first few minutes he copes perfectly well.

At some point, I'm pretty sure it comes down to this: we adults, we're the parents.  Our not-even-two-year-olds?  Yeah, they're not in charge.  Asa, for one, is not old enough to understand how uncomfortable he would be if outside in this weather without his warm clothes; I have serious doubts that any of his contemporaries are much more advanced in that realm.  Which is why we adults are around - to be the responsible ones.

Or not, apparently.  In winter weather - or at Christmas, from what I can tell - the kids are in charge.  I won't even go into the gifts that some of Asa's fellow not-yet-twos are going to be receiving from Santa this year.  I'm pretty sure that they won't actually notice, and will love the huge gifts more for the equally huge boxes and amounts of wrapping paper... and, if they're really lucky, packing peanuts!

I know I sound Grinchy, but I find it heartbreaking that so many parents - people I see on a regular basis, even - have abdicated adult responsibility.  That so many people have caved to their kids who don't like to wear hats or mittens; have caved to the cultural myth that the child who doesn't have the newest, coolest gadget/toy/experience is never going to go to Harvard.

And now I think I'll go spend a little time with my son, maybe to read Brown Bear (since he seems to have it in his hand).  Not to drill him on his colors, as a couple mothers I've talked to recently admit to doing with their 16-month-olds - that's a post for another day.  Just to snuggle him close and do something we both enjoy... inside.  And then maybe we can watch the snow fall.