I've got a bunch of tests and stuff to do Monday and a full day of work Saturday and Sunday. Rather than wrap my (already stressed out) brain around something new I decided to re-run an article I wrote back in 2009. That was a year of lots of snow, too. My son is now 3 weeks shy of 19 and my Gidget is 5 but the subject is as appropriate this year as it was in 2009. Hope you enjoy it. I'll be around Wednesday with IWSG.
When I was a kid, snow days were the thing to look forward
to. A time for laugher and fun. No school, snowball fights, snow forts, and
using the shovels—after we had shoveled the driveway—and making snow paths in
the yard. We used these as trenches in
our warfare games. The not so fun part
of snow days was my mom and her list of chores. I now know this was self-defense on her part. It was a way keep six rambunctious kids
occupied. Needless to say, we didn’t
often whine, “I’m bored and I’ve got nothing to do.” Lord, big mistake and The List came out.
Snow days at my house are a bit different. First, I don’t have six kids, thank God, to
keep occupied. Back then we stayed
outside or found adventures of “lets pretend that…” in our bedroom or the third
story attic. I have one child. A game of Uno only
goes so far. Snowboarding outside takes
up a few hours, if I’m lucky. Snowball
fights still happen but it’s the kid and me. He has TV, movies, 360 Xbox, paper
and art supplies, and shelf full of books.
I have a computer and projects to get done. Articles to write, books to finish, books to edit. Did I mention editing?
This is a normal workweek for me. I’m trying to keep to my
schedule. Four days of no school and a husband who can’t get to work either.
It’s vacation time for them. I’m in a
groove and I have, not one but two, housebound males wandering around bored. I am not bored. I have plenty to do. I
get up from the computer for a short fifteen-minute break and stretch out my
tight muscles, go to the bathroom and get a cup a coffee. My mind is on what
I’m writing, working out the kinks mentally, and walk back into my office and
there’s my husband checking out Fox Sports.
We do have a working TV.
“Oh, I thought you were done?”
I’m dumbfounded. You can tell, dropped jaw, wide eyes,
standing frozen in the doorway.
He can tell. “You’re not done?”
“Sweetheart, what part of five open
tabs on the computer monitor makes you think I’m done?” I always try for the sweet, reasonable
approach first.
So I decide to take out the dog, clear my head in the cold
outside air and rid myself of frustration.
It’s beautiful outside. The type
of day that brings back echoes of laughing kids, snowball fights and snow
forts. I feel a pull on the leash and
bring my mind back to today just in time to see my poor Great Dane trying to do
her business and ever so slowly slide down the incline. This is her first winter and she’s still
learning her way on this white stuff. The look on her face is priceless and I
can’t help but laugh. It feels good.
I’m feeling better, which is a good thing.
I walk back into the house; breathe a sigh of relief when I
see my husband watching TV. I walk into
my office. And there is my
fourteen-year-old son. At my computer.
“Oh, I
thought you were done?”
Oh, yeah, it’s gonna be a long week. Sigh.
