One of the top reasons the world would be a better place if run by women is this: the sport of dressing children in snow gear would finally be included in the Olympics. It would be called Bundlesweating.
Stuffing, zipping and tying my 3 offspring into their snowsuits, boots, hats, gloves and scarves again and again over the last few days, this sport, and the Herculean energy it requires, has been top of mind.
Photo by Vytautas Dranginis on Unsplash
Let me tell you about one of my recent Olympic training workout.
One afternoon, thinking it was only 4pm, I told the kids that we were going to go for a walk. Overhearing me, my wise husband Ryan checked his phone and said “the sun will be setting in 21 minutes.” I logically assumed this pocket computer didn’t know what it was talking about.
I was wrong.
Apparently my internal sundial clock was about 45 minutes behind (admittedly not the first time this has happened).
I had been slacking on parenting duties that afternoon, so I got the kids ready while Ryan wrapped up a few things he was working on.
Getting my oldest child out the door is pretty easy. It’s my warm up. She’s almost 6 and, aside from needing a bit of mitten help, can do most of the work herself (assuming it’s something she wants to do, of course). As she stepped out the front door, I felt proud. Kind of like the first minute or so of your workout.
These feelings were short lived.
Because 3 year olds and small drunk people have a lot in common, part two of the workout is more intense. In case you’re wondering what it’s like to dress a Small Drunk Person, it’s like this:
You: ask Small Drunk Person where their hat is
Small Drunk Person: climbs the side of the couch
You: pull Small Drunk person off the couch and sit together on the floor
Small Drunk Person: giggles, knocks you over and speaks made up language
You: get yourself back up, find Small Drunk Person’s boots and attempt to stuff the feet into the corresponding boots.
Small Drunk Person: lifts opposite foot of the one you’re trying to put into boot
Photo by Karsten Winegeart on Unsplash
Harnessing my remaining energy, I move onto exercise 3: the baby snowsuit. While this requires less cardio, it does require more speed and agility.
First, torture put the baby’s arms through the snowsuit sleeves. Once the baby is zipped up, wrestle the slippery snowsuited baby into the carrier you’re wearing under your coat. Once baby is somewhat secure, dance around as you try to buckle the clasp that is just out of reach on your back.
Voila, your “free” workout.
As I stepped out the front door, sweaty and exhausted, I wished for a moment I lived in Florida. Then I remembered the alligators.
We finally started our walk. In the dark.
The first few blocks of the walk were so pleasant, looking at the Christmas lights still up around the neighborhood. Then my oldest two started arguing about our destination (the youngest probably would have started arguing, too, except she doesn’t have words yet).
We silenced told the kids we were sticking with the plan of walking to the large boulders the kids love to climb on the edge of a nearby nature park.
After a few minutes of boulder jumping we were suddenly joined by a herd of 7 deer.
I know deer are not an endangered species and their prevalance in our neighborhood is the reason why our dog is on year-round tick medicine. But there was something special (for lack of a better word) about unexpectedly sharing this time and space in the snowy darkness. Our group of jumping kids and tired parents and this group of shy but curious does and fawns.
It felt like being acknowledged for trying. The work and annoyance of getting everyone out the door, paid off.
I don’t know if I’ll take gold in Bundlesweating but apparently I can draw a crowd.