In case you missed all the fun, Atlanta was buried in snow for a full week or so, and most of us couldn’t drive anywhere.  My driveway is especially treacherous, so I was housebound from Sunday to Saturday here.  Oh, and also, my husband was in sunny California while Jude and I braved the cabin fever.

Everyone I know was a little worried about the possibility of my being alone with him for a full week without getting out.  I fielded hourly phone calls from friends and relatives.  I am not exaggerating; people were calling and emailing me all the time.  Are you okay with Jude by yourself?  Do you need any other food?  Do you need someone to come get you? (how, I don’t know…) Are you going crazy? While I appreciated everyone’s concern, the whole thing was a little weird to me.  My normal once-a-week trip to the grocery store had me well-stocked on food.  We had power (thankfully).  I wish I could say it was vastly different from a usual week for me, but it simply wasn’t.  I admit I started to get the itch around Thursday afternoon or so, but all in all – save for a few choice moments – it wasn’t really hard on my patience.  [Well, there was that one afternoon when time-out wasn’t yielding good results and I had him in bed at 6:30.  But I’m human, and if I’m being honest, the witching hour always seems to occur at about 6:00 pm, even on the sunniest days.]

I am so happy it’s the beginning of a new week, and of course I was happy to see Scott get home, but in a weird way, last week was also a nice change of pace, a needed reminder. It left me thinking a lot about how I conduct my days and how we tend to go-go-g0 all the time.  Every time I checked in to Facebook, people were complaining of cabin fever or the need (not want?) of a trip to Target.  And this started on day two.  TWO.  We can’t handle two days in our homes without driving around or buying or consuming something?  Come on, people.

Again, I don’t consider myself holier-than-you, and I got the cabin fever itch occasionally, but last week made me realize that – even alone with my 15 month old day and night – going a full week without leaving my home has its merits.  Not only that, but it would have been the norm for families just a few generations ago.

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We built forts and played in our jammies.

We colored and worked on puzzles.  Without even trying to mend our crazy bed head.

We played cars.

And blocks.

We also made snow cream, played in the snow, annoyed the dogs, played with playdough…… The list goes on and on.  It was so nice to just be for a week.  No errands.  No shopping trips.  Nothing to cloud my days and my thoughts. Another bright side?  I did more reading last week than I’ve done in ages.  My house is [was] spotless.  I made my way through some of our surplus food and did some baking.  I felt unhurried, cozy, and grateful that I had a playmate to keep me company.

Life goes on.  Snow melts, and people get back to the normal rush.  I learned a lesson though.  If we aren’t booked every week with a library hour or a play date or a million errands, my life is still full and valid.  I forget that sometimes, and I convince myself that being a good mom means being an extraordinarily busy mom.  And that simply isn’t true.

So happy Monday, readers.  Hopefully the chill of January has you snuggled in and slowing down occasionally.

And later this week?  My first finished knitting project and a recipe or two!