I used to love spring. It was my favorite time of year. The flowers bloom, the trees bud, temperatures warm up, and I can finally drink a margarita on a patio again. Ahh, spring. It was so beautiful in my 20s.
Nowadays, I have an entirely different view of the spring season, mainly because I live in Oklahoma and I’m married to a meteorologist.
Spring now means hay fever, tornadoes, never seeing my husband, and a three month hiatus from traveling. It means the very real possibility of having to hunker down in a metal hole not much bigger than a coffin with a baby, two dogs and a pet fish because a tornado is threatening to send our home into the Land of Oz. It means my husband works long hours, so if a tornado does, in fact, send us to the aforementioned Land of Oz, I have to find a way to get myself, the kid, the dogs and that stupid fish back to Oklahoma all on my own.
When you live in the tornado capitol of the world and you’re married to a TV meteorologist whose job is to warn the public of severe storms, spring no longer gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling. In fact, it gives you anxiety, which is why I’m already writing about spring in early February.
Last spring was a very busy severe weather season in Oklahoma. Damon worked 22 days straight without a day off, and I was stuck at home with a newborn. It was tough on both of us. Damon was on air so much that random viewers saw my husband more than I did. And I was a single mom… A weather widow, if you will.
I was ready to pull my hair out. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure it was a long, exhausting spring for Damon, too. But I was all alone with an infant, no help during the day or the night. When I did manage to get a couple hours of sleep, I dreamed of a warm beach, sunny skies and frozen margaritas. In that dream I also had my pre-pregnancy body back, and those margaritas had zero calories. Heck, I’m still dreaming about that!
Oklahoma weather sucks, which is why we don’t travel in spring. If it isn’t tornadoes, its hail storms, flooding and high winds. Although I would like nothing more than to escape the crappy weather from mid-March to mid-June, Damon has responsibilities. He is the chief meteorologist at his station, so he can’t really schedule vacations when the weather is unpredictable. If we do sneak away it is always a last minute getaway when we know the weather will be quiet for the weekend.
So here we are in early February gearing up for our very last trip until summer. In a couple of weeks, we head north to Jackson Hole, Wyoming, Damon’s favorite place on earth. We will get a few days of skiing in and mourn the official end to our ski season. Once mid-March comes, we’re home bound, and I start dreaming of those margaritas and sunny skies again. Maybe this spring, while Damon is at work, I’ll actually do something productive. Maybe I’ll start working on getting my pre-pregnancy body back… Or maybe I’ll just install a margarita machine in the shelter.