Last Thursday night we took our kiddos to the Boston Common for the tree lighting. It was a half-day that day at Underwood elementary school and Bigelow middle school and so we had spent a glorious afternoon baking Christmas cookies, creating Shutterfly albums and decorating our Christmas tree. I wasn't sure until the last minute whether I would accompany Philippe and the kids to the common. Not because I didn't want to partake in such a festive experience, but because of the cold.
I have chilblains, and what this means is that my hands and feet get ridiculously and painfully cold - very quickly. Unless you have it it is hard to describe, but I can say this. When I get home I need to immediately put my hands under warm water for five to 10 minutes as I watch them go from white to deep dark purple and then back to normal. It's kinda cool to watch. But very painful.
As we baked, created and decorated in the cozy white castle in our flannel PJs, the thought of freezing my a** off on the Boston Common did not appeal.
But as I was bundling the kids up for the adventure, my spirit overrode my logic and off I went.
I didn't realize until we were at the Copley exit that I was still wearing my flannel PJs. Oops. Oh well, flannel is warm, right?
Wrong.
Note to self : loosely fitting flannel pajamas are warm and cozy in a warm and cozy home, but not in the bitter cold.
Turns out the tree lighting was much more than just a tree lighting. It was a whole show that was pretty awesome, except that it went on and on and on and on. I was like, "When are they going to light the tree?"
I started chatting with a super nice woman standing in front of me who was talking with Dakota and Montana. Turned out she too has chilblains – I diagnosed her – but she had never heard of it. She was relieved that there was a name for what she had been enduring through the cold Boston winters.
I am teary thinking of the moment she took one of her hot pocket mitten heaters out of one of her mittens and gave it to me. "Here," she smiled, "Take one of my hot pockets. They really work. I buy them online by the case."
With all that goes on in this world today (and sending enormous light to those in California – and everywhere – enduring the chaos and craziness and pain) do your very best to focus your attention on the good in people. It's there.
Post script: while we were driving our kids to school, I told them about this blog. I frequently tell them about what I write about to teach them the moral of the story. Dakota piped in, with his sweet voice from the backseat, "And then Mommy, you gave your hot pocket to me m, because my hands were cold."
Sigh.