Abbey's Road: Grounded in reality, wishing for spring
It’s that time of year when even the most curmudgeonly Ohioans can’t help but be encouraged to see the yellow and purple crocuses popping up across the neighbors’ lawns. The daffodils, too, are out in full force; the potholes are astoundingly voracious and the sun baits us with its beautiful siren song of warmer days to come.
All of us who have been here long enough recognize it for what it is — Fake Spring — but we play along because what else is there to do? Organize the linen closet? Eh.
These are the days when we begin to allow ourselves the guilty pleasure of glancing through the swimwear section at Target (in January we groaned and forced ourselves to move along); restart, with the best of intentions, the wardrobe purge that we began at the start of the new year; and even open our windows occasionally, never mind the high wind warning or those blasted skunks next door.
Friends, I feel it is my job to remind you this mid-March that we must not get ahead of ourselves. Things are not as they seem. We know this.
Abbey's Road:A nod to unsung athletes
Remember last year when you preliminarily put away the snowpants? That’s what I’m talking about.
On one of the unseasonably warm days last week (63 degrees, max; winds 40 mph), Tiny and The Architect donned their shorts and T-shirts, kicked off their shoes and played in the front yard until sunset (which at the time was approximately 6:25 p.m.).
“Is it spring yet, Mom?” Tiny asked me, glancing at the bottoms of her feet, which had turned black.
“Nope, not yet!” I said as cheerily as I could manage. Someone has to be the realist around here. “Not until the end of the month. Listen, I know you guys are having a great time out here in your bare feet, but remember that we’ll probably still get some snow, and I’m not getting the rest of your shorts out until June. Capiche?”
Tiny gave me the “Yeah, OK, Mom” face that she learned from her 13-year-old sister and went back to jumping over the shrubbery.
The kids have all heard my theory: In Ohio, the month of March is like the scene from "The Lord of the Rings" where it looks like Gandalf the Grey has escaped the fiery monster Balrog, but at the last second the bad guy’s whip comes up from the black pit and deals what appears to be a fatal blow.
To bring the analogy home: Just when you’ve decided on your matching family Easter outfits and taken the plastic off your windows and bedecked your home in pastels, there will be another snowstorm. Mark my words. I’m sharing it here first because if it runs in print, it’s less likely to happen.
The truth is that we haven’t gotten to use our sleds yet this winter, and I don’t think my kids would hate having the chance, but my patience with March is running thin and I’m not sure how much longer I can wait for The Great Pelting to actually happen.
All I know is that I want to go back to Target to look at swimsuits.
Abbey's Road:Searching for a lost (stuffed) love
March, if you’re reading this, I need you to just get whatever-it-is over with so we can get our sledding day out of the way and move on. I have a pile of hand-wash-only sweaters I’m hoping to put off until next November. I’m tied between two swimsuits but can’t make a decision until I’ve fully embraced the spirit of spring.
I can’t do that until you’ve thrown everything you’ve got at me, so whatever’s left in the tank, let’s do this.
My beach gear is waiting.
...At Target.
Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.
This article originally appeared on Newark Advocate: Abbey's Road: Grounded in reality, wishing for spring
