Life has been much more difficult than I'd like to admit these past few weeks. Both of my parents have not been well, and the days are now a blur of emergency room visits, trauma unit vigils, infirmary stays, long days, sleepless nights, doctor consultations, CAT-scans, blood tests, hospital coffee, and worry-filled e-mails and phone calls between my brothers, sisters and me. It has been emotionally draining for all of us, my parents included. I just want everything to be the way it was. If only I could give them hugs, put bandages on their ailments and make everything better. Funny, that's what my dad said about us as we kids got older -- no longer would a parent's easy remedies fix life's bigger hurts.

Yet even now, as my parents approach their 80s, I see them as I did when I was a child. Working. Busy. Taking care of their children. Still in their late 30s, early 40s. When I look at them, my mind turns their gray hair dark. It erases the walker my mother now uses. It sees past their aches and pains. My mind plays tricks on me. But the image of them as young and healthy is one I can't shake any more than my deep, deep love for two people I would do anything for. Anything to make them better. Anything to hold on to them forever, though I know life's course.

It does look, at long last, like they are, finally, on a road that will take them back to their home, just in time for Dad to break ground for a garden and Mom to pull paperwork together for taxes. They want to putter around their house. To visit with friends. To spend time with grandchildren -- the first great-grandchild is on the way -- and more than anything else, to be with each other. Spring has never been more welcome. 

Winter weather is wreaking havoc on everything from roads to rain gutters to family routines ... and I've had enough. (Yes, it's true, I'm a lifelong winter enthusiast who's no longer feeling the love for the present season.) School closings and delays are taking their toll, as are what seems like never-ending adjustments to the routine because of canceled ballet classes, rescheduled family events and alternate child-care arrangements.

But then it hit me: Maybe I should put a notice in the paper and call the local tv station to announce that I've decided to cancel myself. Not permanently, of course. But, because of the inclement weather, I'm putting the brakes on my commitment to the laundry, the grocery shopping, the dusting, the trash toting, the carpooling, the bill paying, the vacuuming, the cooking, the dog caretaking, and the bathroom cleaning. While I'm at it, I'm going to terminate my concerns about the state of the garage, the paper piles breeding at the far end of the dining room table, and the shirts awaiting a hot iron. Sounds like a plan that will probably, in reality, resemble more of a postponement. I just remembered: Girl Scout cookies are stacked high in my house, I'm not sure what's for dinner, and the trash hauler comes Monday. So I'm looking ahead: Let's hope nobody cancels April!

I wanted snow, and boy did we get it! Yes, I still love it, but the back-to-back storms pounding the East Coast are even giving me, the winter adorer, pause. I was waste-deep in the white stuff earlier today as I slogged around the back of my house to make sure all of the vents were clear, and the window wells empty. I ventured to work during the weekend storm and, gratefully, made it to and from safely. While my daughter sledded with friends on Sunday, I oh-so-gently pushed gargantuan piles of snow off my roof. And then shoveled all that fell to the ground. I've got the aching back and bruised knuckles to prove it. And as a blizzard kicks up outside as I write this (Wednesday), more shoveling awaits ... and then some ... and then some.

Still, while I dig through the snow, I'm thankful that I have a home and sidewalk to look after. I'm sure many of the people seeking refuge in local shelters would be grateful for the responsibilities that come with a home. And I'm grateful that I'm healthy enough to tend to these chores, and that my daughter has friends with whom she can have some fun.

And, on a lighter note, I'm sure that my neighbors appreciate what the storm forced me to do: finally (Feb. 7) remove the Christmas decorations adorning the front of my house.

I'm a winter lover, which immediately puts me in a very small minority. I actually like the cold, and regard a fresh snowfall as one of nature's most beautiful offerings. I love playing in the snow with my daughter, and the dog. And who doesn't enjoy a mug of hot chocolate topped with marshmallows when you're done? I was raised in the Chicago area, where the biting cold on a windy February day felt like it could slice the ears right off the sides of your head. The winters here, by comparison, are a bit tepid -- and to a winter enthusiast like me, a bit disappointing.

It looks like this weekend, however, is going to be a doozie -- a dose of the Midwestern storms I grew up with. I'll be helping to put out a newspaper through much of it, but I hope I'll have some time to savor the snow. A quote by an unknown author on the Internet notes: "When it snows you have two choices: Shovel or make snow angels.'' Enjoy!

It's almost impossible to think about much else than the people of Haiti and especially the smallest among them who are homeless, hungry, orphaned and at the risk not only of nature's elements, but human predators as well. The United Nations estimates that as many as 1 million children lost at least one parent in the devastating earthquake that ripped through this small country Jan. 12, according to an Associated Press report today.

Pictures on TV, and those I see on the wire here at the newspaper, are frightening. The AP notes that some children are being released from hospitals with no one to care for them; there simply are not enough beds. Some are begging in the streets. Others who are on their own have been "fortunate'' enough to find their way to "Child Spaces'' set up by Save the Children, according to the AP.

There is certainly relief and comfort in the images of little ones cradled by relief workers or others en route to new parents in America, France and the Netherlands. But there's no ignoring the thousands of children, infants and toddlers among them, who are feared to have lost both parents to this horror.

There are many avenues through which we can help. Make sure you deal directly with an organization that you know you can trust. Often, that is through your local church, synagogue or temple. To make a donation through the American Red Cross, call 1-800-RED-CROSS, or the Salvation Army, call 1-800-SAL-ARMY OR go to www.SalvationArmyLancaster.org.

This is just a start. If you know of local relief efforts that you'd like to share with other families eager to help, please do so here or add a forum posting on the LancMoms site.

I'm still thinking about a 10-year-old boy, Stanley, who is the same age as my daughter. When he arrived in Pennsylvania from Haiti days ago, the AP reported, he was one of a few children in that group still awaiting a home. "I don't have a family,'' he told an adult accompanying the children. "Do you want to be my family?''

Maybe there are myriad ways we can all be part of that family. 

There's a load of clean laundry in my dryer. It's been there a couple of days. The reason? Contour sheets. Next to ironing, I hate folding these sheets more than any other domestic task. And no matter how much time I devote to it, the sheets look the same when I push -- AND I MEAN PUSH -- them into the linen closet shelf as they do when I pull them from the dryer. Argh! Is it just me? Is there some secret to neatly folding contour sheets that someone can divulge?

It's Day 5 of the new year, and I'm still determined to exercise more and make healthier food choices. (But first, I'm getting a pair of Uggs!) I'm going to try a new recipe every week, er, month and be diligent about good breakfasts for my daughter before she goes to school.

I'll devote more time to becoming, and staying, organized. The paper piles will be thinned, kitchen cupboards cleaned and old condiment bottles (wedged into fridge shelves) pitched. I'm going to put my keys on the key holder every time I get home from work -- I can only imagine the time I'll save looking for them in the morning. I will have tidy closets. My cell phone will always go into the purse pouch where it's intended, not into the bottom of the black leather pit where I can never find it.

The dog's teeth will be brushed daily -- OK, weekly.

And I'm going to do a better job of staying in touch with friends who have slipped between the scheduling cracks of my calendar. When all is done, I'm going to carve out a little free time for myself, assuming I'm not face-down-on-the-floor exhausted. Now, if I could just find those car keys.

I've already written about my attempts to destress the holidays. So far, I'd give myself a B-. My daughter's involvement in COBALT Dance Co.'s "The Nutcracker'' -- a tremendous experience for both of us -- has really altered the schedule this year. But I'm managing to get things done despite even less time than usual. The tree, finally, is no longer wearing just its skirt. Most of the shopping is done. And the Christmas cards are winding down. I've accepted the fact that this may be the first year we will not bake a single Christmas cookie. And that's OK.

Surprisingly, however, and despite the stress of a full work and holiday schedule, I'm smiling and enjoying these days leading into Christmas -- maybe even more than I have in years past. I don't know what's different. But something is definitely new this year. Maybe, as I get older, it's a keener sense of the significance of family and friends in our lives, and the joy that finds us when we're not looking for it ... An unexpected gift that appears at the front door on an especially difficult day, as happened to me this week ... A nighttime prayer of my child who, at a time when we adults wring our hands over my mother's walking difficulties, offers thanks for the walker that's so crucial to helping her get around ... Other moms who care for my child when I can't, and the pleasure that comes from returning the favor ...

I'm still as tired as ever, but renewed by the joys of the season. I'm glad they're finding me, and I, them.

I promised myself that I would not let this season get the best of me. I would not allow excessive expectations drain the joy from the holidays. How am I doing? Not so good. Well, it is true that I'm not pushing myself to be the perfect mom and hostess this season. But I must admit, it's killing me on the inside. A busy work schedule and a hectic calendar for my daughter have combined to make Christmas 2009 one to remember for what I haven't accomplished, and might never get done. Here's where it stands.

About half of my Christmas cards are mailed. The others are strewn across the dining room table, along with address books, scraps of paper with assorted other addresses, and books of stamps. The outside decorations are up, though I'm still missing one light for a downstairs window. I finally got a wreath. And then actually put it on the door. The Christmas tree is in the stand, and in the living room. Not a single strand of lights nor an ornament hangs from its branches. It is naked, or at least semi-naked: It is wearing a skirt. I have some of the presents wrapped, but only about half of the shopping done. Not one Christmas cookie has been pulled from the oven.

Somehow, I still picture myself sitting at a clean kitchen counter dressed in designer clothes and wearing an apron to sprinkle red and green sugar on cutout cookies as I listen to Bing Crosby sing "White Christmas'' as a twinkling tree blinks its lights on stacks of presents that were purchased and wrapped months ago by the organized woman I don't think I'll ever be. As the song goes, "If only in my dreams...''

Am I one of the only mortals left who has not yet read even a single sentence from the "Twilight'' saga by Stephenie Meyer? I think I'm going to have to succumb to the hysteria and get a look at what has so many people crazy for these books -- and movies. (And I'm not just talking kids -- I'm talking moms, too. Many of my friends and family have devoured every page.)

"New Moon,'' the second in the vampire saga, debuts in theaters Friday and I must admit all the fuss has me a little more than curious. I loved scary books when I was younger, and remember curling up on the sofa in the den to watch oooooold Bela Lugosi movies late at night. OK, I know "Twilight'' is a far cry from that. My niece, who is in love with Robert Pattinson and has his pictures all over her room, might roll her eyes at me just about now.

Still, I think my daughter, 10, is too young for the books. Does anybody out there have a different opinion? And what about the movies? Something we should be sinking our teeth into? (Sorry, couldn't resist!) Help from moms who know something about this would be as welcome as a sunset to a castle full of vampires. (Sorry, again!)