Outside of the three months I lived in Columbus, Ohio , the rest of my life has been spent firmly planted in the Hoosier state. I grew up in northwest Indiana, went to college in east central Indiana, lived it up in my mid-20s in central Indiana, and eventually moved back to northern Indiana in 2010.
Indiana is a state known for basketball, John Mellencamp, corn, the Indy 500, Peyton Manning, an affinity for unnecessary apologies, David Letterman, and half the state’s proximity to Chicago. We love that we’re a part of the Midwest, make fun of being a part of the Midwest, often find our identity in bordering states, and smile brightly each time we hear the theme song from Rudy. If you live in Indiana, it’s likely you were also born in Indiana and that you still live in Indiana because so do your friends and so does your family and the mortgages are generally pretty cheap.
In northern Indiana, in particular, we spend a good six to seven months indoors. As a result, Hoosiers are pretty good at playing cards and drinking beer and telling stories about that one time in high school. And although our state may not seem all that beautiful from the flyover to Chicago, Louisville, or Detroit, it actually has quite a few destination gems that we visit often when the cold air isn’t devouring our faces November through May.
During the winter and spring, it can get downright brutal here and the weather tends to vary. After weeks of frigid temperatures, you’ll suddenly stumble upon a 60-degree afternoon on a Thursday and, just as soon as you’ve set out your lawn chair and grabbed your favorite koozie, you’ll find yourself in 32 degrees with rain. Fortunately, just as we’ve become accustomed to being the butt of every other state’s jokes, we Hoosiers are also quite used to the drastic change in weather. We dress in layers, own all the jackets, invest in throw blankets, and know what groceries to buy in case of an emergency (it’s milk, bread, vodka, diet Coke, and queso in case you’re curious).
This past week or so has been particularly interesting and near record breaking in terms of the temperature. Last Wednesday, it was -46 degrees with the wind chill. Tomorrow, it will be 52. That’s a 98 degree difference. That’s Indiana.
Despite our acclimation to the wavering temps, I don’t think any of us have ever truly gotten comfortable with the multitude of emotions we feel before and during the time we’re completely snowed in. Especially as parents. On Monday morning, the snow was falling so fast and the wind was blowing so hard I couldn’t believe school hadn’t been canceled. “This is ridiculous!!! These babies could DIE!” By Thursday evening after I received the text that school would be delayed on Friday after being canceled Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I couldn’t believe school didn’t expect these kids to suck it up. “They’ll be FINE! They need their EDUCATION!!!”
Snow days, or in this case weeks, always start out pretty well. We were notified on Monday night that school would be closed on Tuesday and Wednesday, so my 7-year-old Van and I went to sleep content knowing we didn’t have to put on real clothes anytime soon. My husband Rod, a mail carrier, of course had to go in. When your employer’s motto is literally, “Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom of night stays these couriers from the swift completion of their appointed rounds” snow days don’t really apply to you. Luckily for us, I work for an incredibly understanding and trusting employer, so I’m often able to work from home, which I love because it involves stretchy pants and my couch - two more Indiana staples.
I worked for most of the day on Tuesday and Van was in heaven going back and forth between his Legos and the iPad. That night I decided we would all do absolutely nothing the next day since Rod only had to go in for a few hours and my employer was actually closed.
On Wednesday, I tied up a few loose ends at work - on my couch - and when Rod got home we all popped popcorn, watched TV, and napped for about six hours straight. By that time we knew school would be closed again on Thursday, so there wasn’t any prep work to do for the following day. Unfortunately, that realization is what led to the gaggle of thoughts and guilt I felt for doing nothing with my time off. In my mind, it played out a little something like this:
You still haven’t finished reading your book. You didn’t binge watch anything new on Netflix either. Instead, you re-watched The Office. So much of that show wouldn’t fly today. The sexual harassment in seasons 1 and 2 alone would have corrupted Steve Carell’s career. And then you let Van play on that damn iPad for hours yesterday and then again today and he’s going to want it all day tomorrow, too. You haven’t played any games with him or finished building that weird Pokemon set with him yet. That Pokemon set is actually pretty cool, but the creature’s face freaks me out. What kind of name is “Gyarados” anyway? You’re going to need to look up how to spell that. The sheets also need to be changed. How long has it been? And your bathrooms. Christ, your bathrooms. Boys are so gross. If I peed on something porcelain, I’d sure as shit clean it up. What about dusting? So. Much. Dust. Why does our dead skin create all this dust? I’d better add that to the list of things I plan to ask God someday. Is it time for Van to go to bed yet? Why does he ask me so many questions? Why haven’t I taught him more? He’s smarter than this. I love him but man is he exhausting. I’m a terrible mother. I should do the dishes. The floors need to be cleaned too, but with all this snow is it even worth it? I should make a list.
On Thursday, I cleaned for most of the day in an effort to suppress my guilt for not doing more with my kid. There’s always the weekend, I thought. I’ll make big plans for the weekend. Then I spent the rest of the day chastising Van for indulging in too much screen time. By the time Rod got home from work I was wrecked. Peeking through the blinds, questioning whether the ice would melt, contemplating another nap, snarling at Van for doing absolutely nothing, I needed new humans and fresh air.
What I’ve come to understand since crawling out of our house mid-morning on Friday is that snow days are a perfect excuse to do absolutely nothing. Sadly, I’m not so sure human beings are programmed to do absolutely nothing for more than 1.5 days unless it’s on a beach with cocktails and no kids.
After dropping Van off at school following the two-hour delay, I raced to the office, sliding on several ice patches and deep diving into several pot holes, only to talk my co-workers to death for the remainder of the day. I’m quite sure they were more than relieved when I finally went home. In a couple weeks I’m sure we’ll all do this all over again, but for now I’ll revel in the thought of leaving my house many, many more times before then and the knowledge my fellow Hoosiers understand exactly what I mean.
Title Track: “Tenth Avenue Freeze-Out,” Bruce Springsteen. Listen here.