Today’s guest post is from woman-extraordinaire Cheryl Conway-Nelson.  I am not sure how to spell ‘extraordinaire’, and when I looked it up in the dictionary, it was not there:  it should be, sandwiched between extracurricular and extrasensory.  Her picture would be in there too, next to the definition, for balancing five kids, volunteerism, community causes, political activism, sweetness-meters and lots of wet socks.  I don’t know where she manufactures time (I suspect in her basement) but I would sure like to find out.  Since we finally received another dusting of snow here, it is time to share her thoughts on the white stuff.

I met Jane three years ago when I had the good fortune to be redistricted to
a new school.  She and I have a lot in common.  We both have brown hair,
wear glasses and totally rock the motherly figure.  We both jumped into
being first year Lego Robotics coaches.  We both have 6th grade boys with
similar interests.  We’re both northerners, and we share a friendly Bears v.
Packers rivalry.  (Bears Rule!)

We do have our differences too.  Jane is an amazing gardener.  I choose
garden flora designed by God to be unkillable. (not azaleas or hydrangeas
FYI).  She is a Cheesehead and I am a FIB.  And Jane is the nicest, most
sweet person I know.  On the sweetness meter, I’m in the negative numbers.
So when the topic of guest blogging came up while chaperoning on a bus ride
to the Cincinnati Museum Center, I should have known she would follow
through.

(Ed. note: “eventually”.)

So here I sit contemplating a topic when I happened to read Jane’s recent
entry about snow.  Then it hit me. Nowhere does our divergence on the
sweetness meter become more apparent than in looking at snow.  Jane looks at
the beautiful snowflakes and sees a peaceful snow globe.  I look at them and
see 10 wet boots, 10 wet gloves, 10 semi wet gloves, 5 wet hats, whatever
wet clothes their friends leave behind, at least 2 kids crying that they
can’t feel their *insert valuable appendage here* and puddles on parquet and
Pergo.  Oh the puddles.  With five kids, a snow day is a nightmare.  Winter
shock and awe.

For the record, I love snow.  Some day I imagine I will again appreciate the
inherent beauty of a peaceful snowfall like I used to, but not now.  I’ve
got to get back to loading the dryer and mopping the puddles.

Thanks Jane for giving me an opportunity to dust off the English major and
take her for a spin!

Thank you Cheryl, for stopping by with what sure sound like awfully nice words.  It is reassuring to see that the facade of sweetness* I try to keep propped in place is still standing (although with five kids I suspect that you are too busy to notice when it is askew.)

*and for the record, Bears drool.