Ok, I have another thing to say about the weather and then, as Edie says, I need to start expecting snow instead of being so surprised.

The wisdom in that seven-year-old.

Also, I’m sort of behind on updating these columns. It was going to be nice to say the snow has melted, but then it came back a couple days ago, and so here we are. It’s winter.

And I’m turning into my mother…let me explain.

Winter has me turning into my mother
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In case you’re wondering we have yet to thaw out over here in the west. And there are some things that bad weather stops, like school busses sometimes (as we discussed last week.) And occasionally, school (which happened last week), and at times, good moods (which seems to be happening currently).

Because something happens to my character when I’m behind the wheel on bumpy, icy, snow covered, wintry roads in the dark before the sunrise when I have three precious little souls in the back. I morph into the-cage fighting version of myself. When we arrived home from school last week after plowing through thirty miles in over an hour in the eye of the blizzard, I learned that my seven-year-old had been tallying up my swear words so she could report back to her dad. And in my defense, I figure it’s better they hear the language than learn what digging out of the ditch in a blizzard feels like, or worse.

Turns out what does NOT stop for the weather is the oilfield traffic. I knew this, but they could at least slow down for frazzled mothers in dirty SUVs shaking their fists at them while they’re passing in the icy lane. I mean, this weather warrants a little more caution don’t you think? Didn’t we all see the pickup flipped on its roof on the way to town? Do those plates attached to that truck read Texas? What do you know about snow and ice in Texas? (she screams into the  windshield of her Yukon…)

So this is my mood today. It’s been five straight days of some of the iciest road conditions I’ve seen, and I’ve lived here most of my life. Lord knows I’ve put on more than a million miles in all sorts of weather and so maybe it should set me up to brave conditions like this. But honestly, it’s only made me more afraid and more cautious, because I know what can happen!!!

Wait…whoa…did I just become my mother?

Oh no. The transformation might almost be complete. Because when I got to town this morning, I promptly texted her to tell her to stay home. And then I called my little sister and told her the same thing. The weather worrier is a role my mom unabashedly holds. That and the “no running on the dock” announcer and the “careful, careful” caller and the “cut the grapes up in fourths to feed a child with a full set of teeth” police, so much so that we lovingly call her “Safety Beth.” It’s only a matter of time until I get my “Safety Assistant” badge and vest.

I already have four or five weather apps downloaded on my phone and the ND Road Report key memorized. Add to that a stockpile of harrowing stories stored in my memory to rehash when someone dares to actually run on the dock!. “Did you know Shirley’s daughter’s mother-in-law had a cousin who ran on the dock? Yup, sure did. Almost lost an eye to a fish-hook. Couldn’t have been a closer call.”

And anyone asking me today, how I am? Well, I’m giving them the full recount of the six pickups and two trucks who dared pass me this morning. And I’m likely gonna be really dramatic about it. And maybe, while I eat my turkey sandwich for lunch, I’m looking up houses in Florida. Or Arizona. I was there once at a place where you don’t even need a house. Just drag your camper and park it on a slab of fake plastic grass. The lack of lawn mowing opportunities will surly be overshadowed by the absolute insistence that everyone drive everywhere in a golf cart.

Anyway, stay safe and don’t go anywhere for three to six months because I heard it could snow again. If you need me, I’ll be refreshing the ND Road report, stress-baking chocolate chip cookies and saying every worry out loud for fear that if I don’t, it will all come true. It’s all a part of the transformation process…