Yesterday was a second snow day for us. It should have been titled something like, The Revenge of the Snow Day, Snowday: The Kids Strike Back, or Attack Of The Killer Snow Day.
I kid. Sort of. My kids aren’t really that bad. In spite of the fact that the two oldest were born in Iceland, they are true southerners at heart. All three of them. I took a little over a half hour bundling them up. We live in TN. We don’t ski. We aren’t prepared for hours in the snow. Two pair of pants. Tights. Three pairs of socks. Wooly boots. Fleece. Winter coat. Hats. Gloves. Mittens. Scarves. Whatever I can do to make them look like Ralphie’s brother, Randy in A Christmas Story.
So they are bundled up. I throw them outside. Before I can join them, they’re back. Soaked. To the bone. Wet to their drawers. Apparently the wet melting snow didn’t agree with them. It took me longer to bundle them up then the time they spent outside. Heck, I think it took me longer to pull the wet clothes off of them. They strip down leaving another puddle of laundry. Hooray!
I decided that they needed to be productive. They read for a while. Arleigh did some Andrew Jackson research for a while. I went to look up this weeks spelling and vocab words for Hanan. They weren’t posted. Math facts it is. It’s not even lunch.
I finally relented. We picked a new movie from the Netflix list for children and family. I popped popcorn. They are watching. I’m folding. Suddenly I hear the three year old say, “Are my grandparents A-holes?” Exactly like that. Excuse me? Arleigh informs me that I wasn’t paying attention. The girl in the movie just said her grandparents were a-holes. What? Can I have a do over? I get to explain to the three year old that “a-hole” isn’t a nice word. Awesome. What Bria actually hears is, “This is a word to put in my reserve tank and use at the most inappropriate time, like at church.” I know how it works. This isn’t my first rodeo.
Finally, Bria naps. Arleigh and Hanan are playing and practicing piano. Hanan’s friend calls inviting her over. Even though Arleigh can’t be bothered to play with her sisters 99.9% of the time, she is instantly in a funk. There is No One To Play With! I let her help me make some pita bread then we make smoothies. Just as I think I have nothing left in my playbook, Hanan comes home.
Hanan is home. Playtime resumes because Bria wakes up when she hears the door. Playtime means running in the circle, screaming, ball bouncing fun. Everyone was happy so I wasn’t stopping it.
Ray comes home and starts to work on grinding coffee for a friend at work. She won a bunch of coffee at a Christmas party and didn’t have a grinder. We have a Keurig coffee pot. It uses those little cups. We only get a big coffee pot out if we expect lots of company. Like this…
I’m telling you all that so you can laugh. Arleigh saw what he was doing and says, “Daddy, are you making coffee the old fashioned way?” Two minutes later Hanan walks by and says, “Are you making coffee from scratch?” We are spoiled and so are our kids.
Much running and drama ensues. We all have cabin fever. If they didn’t have school today, I threatened to take them to a track and tell them to run for a couple of hours.
It’s over. They’re back at school. Bria is refusing to nap. The dog is sitting with his head in my lap. We’re back to normal and I’m wondering how on earth people who homeschool do it. Since I’m feeling a bit like our melting and refreezing snowman.