Megan Again: The Battle Of The Winter Coats

Megan Again: The Battle Of The Winter Coats
​By Megan Wirts

I am always cold this time of year.

When my alarm goes off each morning and I hit that snooze button, I dread crawling out of my warm and cozy cocoon of blankets because I know that I will immediately be cold.

​My husband and I are always battling over the thermostat and I’m always covered in many layers of clothing. If I go outside, (Brr! I’m cold just thinking about it), I am wearing a coat, hat, scarf and gloves.

My kids on the other hand... 

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...refuse to wear coats, or hats or gloves and never a scarf. What is wrong with them? Are they feverish? Is their blood made of molten lava? Am I the one with the problem? I highly doubt it. It’s cold outside!

Every day I have the same conversation with my son:

Me: Where is your coat?

Son: I don’t know. I don’t want it.

Me: Find it and put it on. It’s cold outside.

Son: I don’t need it. I’m not cold.

Me: You will be. Put it on.

Son: Fine, but I’m taking it off in the car.

Me: Fine. Freeze then.

Son: I won't because I’m not cold.

Me: Grrr!

Then there is my pre-teen daughter that can’t remember where she put her coat. It’s either at her friend’s house, in her locker or maybe she left it outside at lunch time. It’s just not here. Besides, she’s “not cold”, she says while shivering.

Of course, there will be those well-meaning grandma types shaking their heads and insisting that they will “catch their death” if I don’t get a coat on them. Then there are those mothers made of perfection that will give you the side eye of judgement, because their precious little one will always wear a hat and coat and never loses a mitten. Barf.  

The other day my son had a field trip where he would spend a portion of the day outdoors. The high was supposed to only be in the 40’s and, because I want to appear to be a good mother, I insisted that he wear a coat. He refused, of course.

After the usual discussion of how he could get hypothermia, lose his fingers and most likely die, I finally just shoved it into his backpack and sent him on his way. Later that day as I was putting laundry away in his room, what do I see laying on his bed?  That little turd’s winter coat. I was not pleased.

As he was getting off the bus, I stood in the doorway holding his winter coat with my best angry mother face on and didn’t say a word. He sheepishly looked away and said, “Well, you will be happy to know that I was cold for most of the day. I should have worn my coat. I’m sorry.” It took all I had not to laugh and say “I told you so, I told you so!”, but I didn’t because I am a good caring mother. Instead, I just grinned and said, “I told you so!”, one time.

So, all of you parents out there fighting the battle of the winter coat, have no fear!
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One day of them freezing their little behinds off and they will wish they had listened to you. Unless they do actually get frostbite or die of hypothermia, you have nothing to feel guilty about.

Now, I better go find my daughter’s coat.

​ Ugh.