Death of the Idiot Mittens...
We live in the South. It doesn't get super cold here, but every so often, it drops down low enough to justify us pulling out the big guns; and it is then that I'm reminded of my idiot mittens.
I grew up in the Midwest; back then we didn't have puffer coats and Uggs to keep us warm, we were forced to wear a one-piece, zip up monkey suit that had mittens sewn into the sleeves. Don't get me wrong; they were warm, but what we had to go through in order to get them on was a hell all of its own. First: there were three layers of socks, followed by 1-2 pairs of long johns, a pair of pants, several long sleeved shirts, and a sweater; and it was only then that you were allowed to get into the suit! She'd zip it up all the way to up, pulling and tugging, until you screamed from the layer of skin that was now skillfully intertwined into its firm metal teeth. The hat was next, followed by a move that only a true mother of the 70's was aware of; she'd flip the hood over the top of your head while simultaneously pulling the laces together as hard as she could, leaving only a tiny peep hole just large enough to allow in the morning light. "Finally!" you'd sigh, until you heard a piercing voice emerge from the closet, "Hold on... you're going to need a scarf!" We could never figure out how our mothers were able to get them on so tight; we assumed it was due to the lack of motor skills from too many layers of fabric, but those scarves never came off... not even when the snow hardened into the grooves like tiny lint snowballs.
Of course, any good mother back in those days would have invested in a pair of moon boots, which would be the final step in gearing up for cold weather season. You'd lie uncomfortably on the bed while your mother proceeded to squeeze your pudgy little sock-padded foot into each boot one-by-one. It was usually around this time that you'd have to pee; but before you could even finish thethought, you'd feel your mother's eyes burning a hole straight through your soul. You'd wait... secretly praying that you'd be able to hold it long enough to get to school, but that would never happen and you'd lie motionless while an enraged woman would begin tearing off every stitch of winter clothes while screaming at the top of her lungs about your blatant disrespect of her time.
My mother often jokes about history repeating itself. She'll shoot me the occasional grin, followed by an annoying little laugh when she sees my daughter do something that reminds her of me. "Oh,you'll see!" she will say, while offering her best maniacal laugh, but I don't let it get to me, and thanks to the continued growth of the fashion industry, this was one time I was able to laugh at her!