Karma doesn’t wear a coat

If I think back across the years of being parented by my mother, all the things I learned from her, all the wisdom she imparted, there is definitely one thing that stands out.  Something that she drilled into my head over and over across the years.  Something of import, a thing that every child growing into adulthood needs to learn along the way.

This, then, is her legacy.

The advice is simple and straight-forward.  Eight measly words:  IT’S COLD OUT THERE.  PUT ON A COAT.

My mother has barked this at me as recently as this past winter.  Me, in my 40s.  (People!  I’m in my 40s!  When did that happen?)  I’m pretty sure if she thought she could get away with it, she would clip mittens onto the ends of my coat sleeves.

When I die, my grave stone will be etched with a message done in an 18-point font (probably Pepita MT, because I love that font) that says “Here lies Linda.  She never wore her coat.”

I really hate coats.  They’re such a pain in the ass.  I especially hate traveling with them, having to deal with them in the airports and on the airplanes.  When I’m home, my outdoor exposure is pretty limited.  I go from the garage to the house, from the house to the garage, from the parking lot to the office, from the office to the parking lot.  (If I took Mother-May-I GIANT steps, I could get from the car to the office in about 15 steps.  Mother may I?  Yes, you may.  In fact, you must.)

Occasionally I may have to walk from the car in a parking lot to the supermarket door or the gym entrance or some such.  But it ain’t much.  That’s what I’m telling you.

I’m not doing any downhill skiing.  I don’t have to walk to school uphill both ways in the snow.  EVER.

It’s not like the olden days, the pioneer days.  It’s not like I need to tie a guideline from the house to the barn so I can go out in a blizzard to feed the livestock and find my way back to the house using the guideline, because Pa Ingalls totally knew of a dude who thought he could navigate back from the barn without a guideline and they didn’t find him until the spring thaw.  No, I’m serious.  I read it in a book when I was a kid.  Winters were brutal then – they all totally needed coats.

Good thing I don’t live in pioneer days, huh?  Mostly because I don’t think I could handle the lack of high speed Internet.  Also, slightly less important, because I have no desire to milk a cow and the thought of unpasteurized, unrefrigerated, full-fat milk makes me want to barf.  (Hey, look – my spell-checker didn’t put a red squiggly line under the word barf.  Congratulations, Barf, for making the big leagues!!  I always knew you would find your way up.) ( Ha.  Pun.)

And so I’m at peace with my position on coat-wearing.  Yes, yes, I definitely am.

But these KIDS – these devil’s spawn that I have given birth to!  What is UP with them and the not wearing of the coats?  I mean, sure, we’ve enjoyed some mild winters of late (thank you Global Warming!) but this winter has been pretty cold.  And they’re all “Eh, big deal… I have this here flimsy hoodie on, I’ll be FINE at the bus stop with the wind chill of ten below, Mom.  Quit yer nagging.”

I deserve this.  I totally do.

Let’s just hope I don’t get everything else I deserve in the realm of parenting with Karma at the wheel.

Hold me, I’m scared (and slightly chilly).