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The Snow Storm

January 24, 2016 by Christina Kposowa in Family

This weekend, the mid-Atlantic region was hit by a massive blizzard affectionately known as "Snowzilla," (or Jonas, thanks to the National Weather Service). For once the predictions were actually accurate - no offense to all the hard-working meteorologists out there - but I was a bit skeptical. By the time it was all said and done, the snowfall was upwards of two feet in most areas in Metro DC.

Surprisingly, the thing that worried me most before the storm hit wasn't running out of food. Or an extended power outage. Or when the snow plows would reach us. It was wondering how in the world we would survive stuck in the house with a near two-year old who was used to being entertained and engaged every second. 

We prepared the best we could being first-time parents. Musa preemptively purchased crayons, construction paper, Playdoh and puzzles. We searched everywhere for snow pants (no luck!) We stocked up on Lincoln's favorite snacks. We kept our phones charged just in case the power failed and we had to resort to Mickey Mouse on Youtube. 

Thankfully, all our hard work paid off (meaning God was gracious) and we survived Friday night, the first dusting, unscathed. By 8:30p, Lincoln was happily exhausted and went to sleep with little fuss. But by Saturday afternoon, when we were in the thick of the storm, he was more than ready to break out. We sighed deeply when he finally picked up his shoes and stood at the door longingly.

"Outside?" he pleaded with those sweet brown eyes that are so very hard to resist.

Against our better judgement, we obliged. It probably wasn't a bad idea to get an early start on shoveling, right? Plus the four walls were closing in on us all. So out we went. It was a gloriously messy evening, with high winds and snow coming from every which way. Our entire yard was a field of white. 

He loved it. All of it.

At the first sight of the snow, he plunged in headfirst, shrieking with pleasure upon discovering that it was cold and wet and stuck to his clothes. He quickly realized (being the smart boy that he is) that it was coming from the sky of all places! Throwing his head back in reckless abandon, he welcomed the cold flakes on his bare face with an open mouth and extended tongue, frequently losing his balance and falling into another pile of snow. Which he thought was hilarious.

We worked hard to clear the sidewalks while he worked equally as hard  to push snow from the side banks we'd created back into the walkway. I can only imagine he thought we were destroying his playground, taking away all the snow!. It was quite the scene, really. And in the end we were happily worn out, us three. Thank God! Another night of fuss-free sleep!

This morning, Lincoln woke up, got his boots and again stood by the door (at 7a, mind you). We've been outside to play a total of three times already this weekend (and counting), each venture requiring concerted effort considering the hooded sweatshirt over the long-sleeve shirt tucked into two pairs of gloves (because they're not waterproof ... I know, we're horrible parents), not to mention the long johns under the sweatpants tucked into the doubled socks, carefully placed into the snow boots (the need for which we actually did anticipate). 

But it's been thrilling to watch him experience and appreciate the beauty of changing seasons, and marvel at what must be the most peculiar and awe-inspiring thing - white cold wet falling from the sky.

Watching him reminds me of all the joys of my own childhood. I pray he revels in his for many more years to come.

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January 24, 2016 /Christina Kposowa
Family
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The Beauty of A New Word

January 14, 2016 by Christina Kposowa in Motherhood

This week, my favorite 22-month old made the monumental jump into his toddler bed after co-sleeping for the majority of his life. Now that he's finally in his own room, a milestone for which I've earnestly prayed, I am missing him terribly and realizing suddenly ... I'm not ready.

Can everything just slow down, please?

Do you know what he said to me the other day?

I was picking him up from school and he'd made a super cool piece of art (yes, art) - three bright, blue overlapping handprints. Like most kids, he brings home art all the time - drawings and paintings and crafts - but I knew this one was special as soon as I saw it. I could just imagine those chubby little hands being pressed against that all-too-familiar off-white construction paper as he shrieked with joy. My heart melted instantly.

Of course, Lincoln was delighted to show me his latest masterpiece and bashful at my praise. He smiled, diverting his eyes shyly.

"Oh woooow! They're so preeeeetty!" I swooned, using words we practice often. And even though my husband probably would have preferred another word over "pretty," because #manrules, Lincoln beamed proudly and flashed his signature grin - the one with the dimple in his right cheek that makes him look so very much like his dad.

Pleasantries now complete, we shuffled through our usual afternoon routine of putting on his gloves, then his hat, then his coat. Following the snap of the very last button, I did a quick scan of the room to make sure I wasn't leaving anything.

"All ready?" I asked, finally, his lunchbox in hand, keys and cellphone in pocket and backpack tucked safely under my arms.

"Papers!" Lincoln exclaimed, pointing to the table where I'd left his artwork.

What did he just say? 

I almost died. Nearly fainted right there in the Chatty Chipmunks class on the white speckled tile adjacent Lincoln's cubby. Jesus had never been nearer.

Did my baby just say ... "papers?!"

I told this story to some coworkers at lunch today while they smiled politely, waiting for the kicker .... 

Yep, that was the kicker.

It hit me soon after - as my friends laughed politely, albeit sympathetically - that I am now officially that mom. I have joined an elite club of women who get all weepy eyed at the smallest gestures because we are seeing life happen right in front of us, every minute. I stop meetings to circulate real-time pictures of Lincoln's daily activities at school  (some of you reading know this to be true!) I keep track of every new word. I store millions of photos of him on my iPhone until I absolutely have to transfer them, only to start all over. Nothing brings my heart more joy than hearing, "Haffi go potty," especially when he's not crying wolf.  Or when he shrieks with delight at the sight of me coming to pick him up in the evenings, running at me full-force and crashing into all the love these two arms can hold.

This was never supposed to happen. I imagined myself as "cool" mom. "Trendy" mom. "Soccer" mom. Instead I ended up as "emotional wreck" mom. 

The irony of it all? That's strangely ok with me. 

January 14, 2016 /Christina Kposowa
Motherhood
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