I don't want to build a snowman.

Taking the pressure out of fun

Hi everyone — happy Friday! If you’re just joining us and want to catch up on the January Funtervention, you can do so here.

I was planning to write a different post today, one about my adventures in trying to take my own advice (about fun factors and fun magnets) by learning something new.

But alas, my plans were foiled by the weather: after a four-day holiday weekend last weekend, followed by two days of delayed school openings this week due to snow and ice, my child’s school is closed today because of a snow storm. And so the time I would have had for writing that newsletter is now being spent trading childcare duties with my husband on a day when we’d both intended to work.

I’m sure that many people on this list are also in the midst of a snow day, and I’m wondering how you feel about it. Because here’s how I feel: as a parent, I hate snow days. It’s not the inconvenience of the snow that I dislike (I am a freelancer and work from home). It’s the pressure. It’s the feeling that, because snow is relatively rare, and my child is eight, I’m supposed to want to go outside and play. I’m supposed to have leapt out of bed this morning and jumped into my boots and snowpants, in the manner of a firefighter, and raced out the door to frolic. I mean, it didn’t snow at all last year! What if it doesn’t snow again till next January?

Or worse, what if this is the last snow of my daughter’s entire childhood, and I squander it by hiding in the bedroom, door shut, writing a newsletter and hoping that if I can just stay quiet enough, maybe my husband will take her out instead of me?

Or, even worse, what if by the time the next snowstorm hits, my daughter doesn’t even WANT to play with me? The part of me that is driven by fear of regret (which is a large part of me) is worried that if I don’t go out and play in the snow with my daughter today, I’ll never have the opportunity again. I’ll end up like a middle-aged Anna, begging Elsa to build a snowman as poignant piano music plays in the background.

This is on repeat in my head.

Adding to my distress was this suggestion, which was included in the school’s email about today’s weather closure:

We encourage you all to enjoy the snow day. Go outside, build a snowman, have a snow ball fight, make a snow angel and enjoy a different type of outdoor education with your children.

This photo makes me feel bad about myself.

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Now, I appreciate the sentiment behind this suggestion. I truly do. I mean, I’m writing a freaking newsletter called “How to Feel Alive.” I am aware that I am supposed to enjoy making snow angels.

And yet, do you know how much I do not want to pull on snow pants and mittens and a coat that could double as a sleeping bag and head out into the icy Philadelphia streets so that I can lie down in the snow? Or, worse, feign glee as I feel a snowball slowly melting down my neck?

And do you know how guilty it makes me feel to admit this?

(Very. The answer is very.)

So in lieu of my other would-have-been email, I thought I would devote today’s newsletter—today’s Funtervention—to invite us all to

give ourselves a freaking break.

In my more rational, therapist-approved moments, I recognize that it’s okay to not want to spend your Friday making snowmen. (Especially after a week of snow closures.)

It’s okay to not want to get out of your pajamas or leave the house. (In fact, I just learned a new word for this today: pajamming. You’re welcome.)

It’s okay if you/I wish your/my kid had school today.

It’s okay if what you/I really want to do is to curl up on the couch with your/my dog and a book and enjoy your/my own goddamn snow day, as a grown-up, without snow pants.

And on the flip side, it’s also okay if you do want to go outside and frolic in the snow, even if you’re “supposed” to be working!

It is all okay.

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For me, at least, giving myself permission to not feel happy about today’s snow day is helping to relieve some of the pressure I put on myself as a parent.

It reminds me of when I moved from New York to California for grad school and somehow got the start date wrong, resulting in me having a week and a half alone, in a new state, before classes began. I remember sitting on a curb outside the Berkeley Bowl feeling absolutely miserable—and, worse, beating myself up for not being able to get into a better mood. (Hello, reasons for therapy!)

Then I had a realization that, wait a second, I had just moved across the country, away from my family and friends, to a new place, all on my own, with nothing to do but think about how much I missed everyone and question whether I should have moved. Of course I was not feeling very happy. Acknowledging this—that it made sense that I was down—allowed me to stop beating myself up for feeling down. And while my mood didn’t suddenly shift to sunshine and roses, at least I no longer was making myself feel bad for feeling bad.

Similarly, I’m finding that just acknowledging that there are legit reasons I’m not psyched about today’s snow day is helping me to feel less bad about not sharing my daughter’s excitement about it. And that, in turn, is creating a teensy bit more space for me to explore the possibility that perhaps it wouldn’t be the least enjoyable thing in the world to go out in the snow for a bit today.

Do I want to make a snow man? Honestly, no. I do not. But I’m finding that when I stop putting pressure on myself to have to have THE MOST FUN EVER ALL THE TIME, I feel a lot more open and relaxed—and, in fact, I often end up surprising myself by having fun (or at least enjoying) doing things I thought I didn’t want to do. (And then racing back inside to read on the couch.)

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We’ll pick up our regularly scheduled programming next week when, hopefully, the streets have been plowed. For now, stay warm, be safe out there, and try to be kind to yourself. (That advice is for me as much as it is for you.) If you do feel like building a snowman, by all means, go out and do it. And if you don’t? That’s okay, too.

To scrolling less and living more,

Catherine

PS: Here’s a delight and an easy idea for you: start a delight jar! We’ve been sharing/writing down delights at dinner and then putting them in this jar, and it’s a total mood boost, both in the moment, and when we read them afterwards. Also: it does not require snow boots. Win-win-win!

Need a snow day activity? Join our delight chat!