52 Weeks of Sisterhood: Teamwork

My girls don’t always get along.

Their seven year age difference is part of the reason. But when they do get along it makes my heart happy.

We’ve had way too much snow recently and it’s resulted in either school cancellations or two hour delayed openings for big sister. The most recent two-hour delay day happened to fall on the day little sister has her swimming class. So we all piled into the car and headed to the Y with plans to go to swim class and then rush home to get big sister on the school bus by 10am.

She wasn’t happy about having to rush. She wanted to stay home in her jammies for a bit longer and play on the latest tween obsession “Wee World.” Don’t ask.

But off we went. We sat on the bleachers alongside the pool, sweating and breathing in the humidity. We watched my little one practice her kicks and put her face in the water to blow bubbles. The class is only 30 minutes, but my older daughter’s face looked like she’d been there for days.

But then something cool happened. The teacher asked her class of toddlers if they wanted to swim the length of the pool to the deep end using their little floaties. Their eyes widened for a second before they all squealed and shouted, “Yay! Yay!”

The class slowly began kicking, making their way out of the shallow end. They swam in the crookedest line ever, but it was really cute. There are only three of them, but they each had a little cheering section on the bleachers. Kick. Kick. Kick. They were in the middle of the pool – headed straight for the deep end – when big sister got up and ran alongside the pool to the deep end. (Note: the lifeguards yelled at her for running, but she didn’t care.) She crouched down at the edge of the pool and started cheering and cheering and cheering for her little sister. “C’mon you can do it! You’re almost there!”

When the little one finally made it – all red-faced and breathless – it was her big sister who jumped up as if she had just won the kid lottery. And then she told her, “You did it! I’m so proud of you!” And my heart swooned.

Of course, on the way home, they fought about who was allowed to sing the Frozen songs. (For the record, my little one prefers to sing ALL BY HERSELF. Holy high maintenance.)

But I didn’t let it ruin my moment.

p.s. Cell phones aren’t permitted in the pool area so I failed to get a shot of little one kicking her heart out. So I include this one instead.

52 weeks of sisterhood

Holding hands so they don’t slip on the snow…

 

When You Held Your Breath To Find Out If School Was Closed

The view from our home - with a photobomb by the snowplow truck.

The view from our home – with a photobomb by the snowplow truck.

As I’m writing, snowpocalypse is raging outside my window. Another 10 inches or so is expected in our neighborhood. All this on top of the foot or more already covering the sides of the roads and everyone’s front lawns. I don’t mind the snow so much, especially now since I work from home and a daily commute is not something I have to deal with. It really is pretty to look at. But it’s getting old as we reach mid-February.

We found out last night that school would be closed today for my nine-year old. The list of school names – neatly arranged by county – scrolled along the bottom of the local New Jersey news station a good five hours before a single flake fell. We also received text messages and phone calls last night from an automated notification system – about the “impending weather.”

Now what fun is that?

I remember as a kid waking up early, raising the window shades and seeing the most glorious sight – SNOW! We’d run to the dining room, turn on our big stereo and tune it to the local station that was listing off all the school closings. The sound was all static and grainy – a sign of the times before satellite and digital radio. The announcers would list the names alphabetically. Our town began with “M” and we usually tuned in when they were somewhere at “S.” So we’d have to wait for them to loop around and begin again. Without fail, our town was one of the last to decide to close. I grew up in Melrose. And this is what we would hear:

Malden, Medfield, Medway, Middleton, Milton….

Melrose should fit neatly between Medway and Middleton, right? But it never did. At least not on the first read-through.

No, it wasn’t until after I had taken a shower, gotten dressed, had breakfast and was ready to go.

We’d listen one more time…Malden, Medfield, Medway, MELROSE, Middleton, Milton…

SNOW DAY!

Back in our jammies for a day full of cartoons and sitcoms 🙂