1) Green sprouts of perennial flowers emerging through the leaf mulch, surely to suffer frost damage and be snowed on, yet still poking their tenacious selves up. Oh hardy perennials, how I love you.
2) Two pairs of rubber boots outside the back door, caked heavily in mud.
3) The existence of mud, dirt, and leaf mulch in many unexpected places in the house.
4) Muddy dog footprints in the house.
5) Grimy hand towels in the bathroom. (“But I actually DID use soap” Jake says, puzzled.)
6) Piles and piles of muddy laundry. Do you sense a theme emerging?
7) Spring fever. Ahem. I will decorously leave it at that.
8) I AM ONLY WEARING ONE SHIRT. Yes, like a chrysalis shedding its cocoon, I have put aside my thick sweaters to reveal a mere long sleeved t-shirt. How’s that for an Easter metaphor?

Honestly, I was starting to believe that this winter was actually going to last forever, what with the constant record snowfalls and below-average temperatures. It sort of felt like being at home with a small infant, the constant feeding and no sleep, and the to-do list that looked like this: shower, eat something, wander around in a semi-comatose state. To me, it always felt like the young-baby stage was going to last forever, that I would be exhausted forever, that I would be feeding an infant for the better part of an hour every two to three hours. Intellectually, I knew it wouldn’t last forever, but my emotional self didn’t really believe it. But what do you know, I now have two preschoolers on my hands, who can actually be relied upon to do a few things for themselves and don’t depend on me for every single thing. And just like that, the winter is over and spring is here.

I was speaking with a childless woman in her forties. “Oh, you’re so lucky,” she said, “I would love to stay at home and play all day.” That kind of comment just automatically clenches my teeth. My initial, knee-jerk reaction is to list all the tedious chores involved in my day-to-day life: myriad hours spent planning, preparing, and cleaning up after meals and snacks, cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping with kids in tow. My next reaction is to list all the things I do and the things I do not allow: I don’t watch daytime TV, I spend a lot of time figuring out appropriate craft projects, I read the same books about skyscrapers, vehicles, dinosaurs, and superheroes over and over, they are allowed only a limited amount of TV, I take them on outings, and I supervise (sometimes awful) playdates. Apparently I need to justify my decisions by making my life sound as terrible as possible, as if it is all work and I get no enjoyment out of it.

But the truth is I AM lucky. It is fun to be around the kids all day, even if the above paragraph is true. Yes, it is work, yes, it can be boring, and tedious, and actually kind of irritating to be with small children all day, but it can be so wonderful too. Today we went “puddle jumping”. We walked down the block to ogle the neighbour’s eclectic collection of old cars that were probably bought at an auction and are ostensibly being restored, and that the boys are fascinated with. (“Look, Jake, it’s that Caprice that I love!” “I know, Mark! I really love this Oldsmobile!” ) We looked at the cars for a while and then the boys jumped in every single puddle on the way home. They followed a stream of muddy gutter water, watching it flow into the sewage drain, which is another odd fascination of theirs. They threw rocks into some of the larger puddles and jumped and splashed until, freezing, we had to go home to warm up. And I thought, yes, I really am lucky.