Foreboding of Winter

I'm cold. If you ask any of my friends, they'll tell you wryly that I'm cold any time the temperature drops below sixty-five degrees. But no matter how much everyone laughs at me, the fact is that the temps are now in the fifties during the day and the thirties at night. According to my body, it's winter.

For the last three days, I've had a chill I can't shake, so today I decided to wear long johns underneath my jeans when walking the dogs. It helped, and I'm both chagrined that it's about two months earlier than I usually have to do this, and relieved that I thought of it. This year, though, I have a bigger problem. It seems Ben has the same system that I do. This has made mornings downright painful.

Thankfully, my high-schooler is very self-sufficient. He gets up at six a.m. (bless his heart), makes his breakfast, packs his lunch and gets himself out to his bus before seven. That's about the time I drag myself out of bed, go wake Ben and proceed to put my coffee on and prep his food for the day. But even though Ben's bus doesn't come for almost another hour, I know I will have to go back and try to rouse him at least three more times.

Today, it was about thirty nine degrees outside. Ben looked like he was encased in a cocoon in his bed, blanket wrapped like a hood around his head. Part of me wanted to crawl in next to him. It's not a fatigue thing when bears like us don't want to get up in the morning. I actually send Ben to bed earlier than most kids his age, and I go to bed earlier in winter. This is to help keep me from being tired the next day because, let's face it, being cold *and* tired is a pretty good way to insure I will not want to get up unless the house is on fire. No, on these days, I've come to realize, it's about warmth. We don't want to get up because we are so very, comfortably, toastily, cozily warm. And I hate that he has to get up, because I completely understand how he feels.

I'm doing what I can to make it easier for both of us: I have the heat come up well before we have to rise so the rooms are warm. I have Ben lay out his clothes the night before so he can stumble into them drowsily and not have to get his brain going too (I'd be happy with just the body at that hour). And I have stocked the freezer with pancakes and waffles, and the cabinet with hot chocolate and oatmeal, so as soon as he makes it to the table, I can start warming his insides.

Time will tell if these tactics will work, and I'm trying to remain optimistic, but this morning was not a positive indicator. I asked Ben what he wanted for breakfast and lunch. He barked, "Waffles. Bologna. Now get out." Strangely, it didn't hurt as much as you might think.