Yesterday was Earth Day, and as Yohannes succinctly wrote on his Earth Day message at school, “We celebrate Earth Day to remind us to take care”.
Yesterday at noon, in our backyard, it was 21 degrees Celsius; the girls and I had a picnic lunch, and marveled at the birds frolicking in our pond. By 5:00 pm, kids soccer had been cancelled as there was pelting rain, winds that would move lawn furniture, and the temperature had dropped below 8 degrees. This is Calgary in the springtime - summer, fall and winter! Through the night the winds howled, and the rain, by moments, turned to snow. The morning did bring sunshine, and the illusion (to the innocent) of a warm day. The thermometer was registering 2 degrees, and the wind had died down to 30 km/hr gusting to 40. The Weather Network reported that it would feel like minus 3 degrees. The kids wanted to ride bikes to school, I didn’t.
But alas, my kids had just experienced Earth Day at school. School is SO much more powerful than the mere opinion of a mother. They told me about the environment, I told them about frost-bite; they told me about fossil fuels; I told them about growing up on the prairies; they told me about conservation; I told them our body uses SO MUCH more energy when it is cold outside; they told me that we were riding; I told them about mitts, ear covers, and warm coats; they told me not to worry. I briefly imagined letting them ride to school in their sweaters, without the accoutrements of winter, but I couldn’t.
I donned my gear: ear cover, neck warmer (pulled up over my nose), ski mitts, my winter coat, and helmet. Laurèn came into the garage and took one look at me and started to laugh.
“What is so funny?” I asked.
“You look like one of the Ethiopian street people,” she said.
(I knew she meant the women who clean the streets, and to limit the ill effects of pollution, they wear bandanas over their mouth and nose, and scarves covering their heads.)
“Faven, Yohannes, come and look at Mom” she said.
Now, I had an audience for my unplanned comedic moment. “You’ll see,” I said knowingly, nodding to myself.
“What is so funny?” I asked.
“You look like one of the Ethiopian street people,” she said.
(I knew she meant the women who clean the streets, and to limit the ill effects of pollution, they wear bandanas over their mouth and nose, and scarves covering their heads.)
“Faven, Yohannes, come and look at Mom” she said.
Now, I had an audience for my unplanned comedic moment. “You’ll see,” I said knowingly, nodding to myself.
I went to help them with their gear. It was an uphill battle all the way, and by this time, we were running late so my stress level tripled. Yohannes still had his shorts on. I implored him to go outside and check the weather and then think about wearing pants. His response, “Don’t worry Mom, I’m hot-blooded”. (To avoid my own hot-blooded moment, I told myself to just breathe. What is the worst thing that could happen IF Yohannes wears shorts, I asked myself. He will simply get cold.)
After another eternity lecturing on the benefits of winter gloves over those one-size-fits-all stretch gloves, I finally gave up – and actually found myself hoping that they would get cold on the ride to school and realize how their Mom might look funny, but is actually quite smart. Hmmmmm……. what was this really about anyway?
With nine minutes until the bell would ring, we were ready to leave for our twelve minute ride, and our neighbor, who has kids at the same school asked me if I wanted her to take the kids to school, as she had to drive back and drop off coats for her kids because she didn’t realize how cold it was out. Wow, that would be great, I thought. But, of course, I knew better than to answer for the kids, they were determined. I asked them………No, they wanted to ride bikes. My neighbor, who originates from Lebanon, shivered in the cold wind, and looked at me with something that I recognized as sympathy. Off she went in her warm van, leaving me with my eager environmentalists calling, “Come on Mom”.
We rode directly into the wind, and I felt it like a naked baby emerging from the warm tub for the first time; I was worried about the kids. Usually I thoughtfully compensated for their questionable choices, and carried the extra clothes and things that they might need; but this time I didn’t take even one extra mitten. I wanted them to fully experience the natural outcome of their decision – and with the exception of Yohannes, they did! Faven’s mood soured the closer we got to school, so much so that by the time we arrived (15 minutes late), she was not even speaking to me. With Laurèn it was so much more painful, she not only got very cold, she became emotionally unglued with each passing pedal stroke. Faven forged ahead, that upset Laurèn; Yohannes cut her off, that brought on tears of frustration; and my insistence that we keep on moving left her paralyzed with less than 100 metres to go. I sent the other kids on, and Laurèn collapsed into my open arms, sobbing and feeling things that I could not see and she could not articulate. I managed to get her over to the bike racks, where the other two were waiting for us. Everyone got to school, cold and late, and I don’t yet know if they learned anything. But for me, it reiterates that learning can be hard and even painful; our job is not to protect our kids from the experience, but to find a way to support them through it with patience and compassion.
Happy Earth Day, and remember to… take care.
