Ahhhhh, the happy family! Cherubs in fuzzy pajamas staring in wonder at pristine snow. Cherubs in snow gear snuggling on the loving lap of their doting mother.
But what you don't see is that in between snapping the photo of the girls in the window (exhibit A) and snapping the photo of them on my lap (exhibit B) is the utter chaos and frustration that hubby and I went through to get from A to B.
Heating in Brooklyn brownstones, and probably most NYC dwellings, is based on old-school steam radiators which swing wildly between "no different than being outside in the cold in your underwear" to "hellish hot swamp". Our apartment was in hellish hot swamp mode and the physical exertion it took to wrangle two toddlers into snow gear had us in a torrential downpour of sweat, panting in desperation, and cursing each other for thinking that a snow experience was some mandatory parental obligation.
The girls were finally ready but we still had to wrap ourselves up in multiple layers to lead our little ones into the great blizzard. Meanwhile, the Cherubs were frantically clawing at their necks in a futile attempt to free themselves of their warm waterproofed outer shells. Poor things were crying in frustration as they began to overheat. But we were too invested in the experiment, we couldn't back out!
As we opened the front door a blast of cold air greeted us and we all smiled, it had been worth it! We tottered down the stoop, through the gate and onto the sidewalk. The girls were giggling, enthralled, fascinated. Hubby and I were smug and delighted.
Then, a child fell, felt the cold wet snow, and FREAKED out! The fallen child's wails of despair freaked out the standing child and both turned to the now not so smug parents crying "carry me!"
Which leads us to B, mama pinned underneath two children on a cold wet stoop. Happy Holidays!
But what you don't see is that in between snapping the photo of the girls in the window (exhibit A) and snapping the photo of them on my lap (exhibit B) is the utter chaos and frustration that hubby and I went through to get from A to B.
Heating in Brooklyn brownstones, and probably most NYC dwellings, is based on old-school steam radiators which swing wildly between "no different than being outside in the cold in your underwear" to "hellish hot swamp". Our apartment was in hellish hot swamp mode and the physical exertion it took to wrangle two toddlers into snow gear had us in a torrential downpour of sweat, panting in desperation, and cursing each other for thinking that a snow experience was some mandatory parental obligation.
The girls were finally ready but we still had to wrap ourselves up in multiple layers to lead our little ones into the great blizzard. Meanwhile, the Cherubs were frantically clawing at their necks in a futile attempt to free themselves of their warm waterproofed outer shells. Poor things were crying in frustration as they began to overheat. But we were too invested in the experiment, we couldn't back out!
As we opened the front door a blast of cold air greeted us and we all smiled, it had been worth it! We tottered down the stoop, through the gate and onto the sidewalk. The girls were giggling, enthralled, fascinated. Hubby and I were smug and delighted.
Then, a child fell, felt the cold wet snow, and FREAKED out! The fallen child's wails of despair freaked out the standing child and both turned to the now not so smug parents crying "carry me!"
Which leads us to B, mama pinned underneath two children on a cold wet stoop. Happy Holidays!
