It looks like the wearing of inside-out pajamas, white crayons on the window sill, ice cubes in the toilet, crazy dances and all of the other make-it-up-as-we-go-along superstitions my kids (and a vast majority of their classmates) performed last night worked and the Gods of Winter School Skipping gifted them with a snow day.
Living in Michigan you just expect crazy amounts of snow (which we hadn’t gotten this year until last night) and I think we were all a little smug thinking about the east coast getting hammered as we easily drove down our clear streets and through our ice-free parking lots.
So, we totally had this coming.
And today when I go on Facebook I will see a million posts from fellow moms that sound like this…
Yay! Snow day! Can’t wait to spend quality time with my kids.
So nice to have a warm and cozy day at home with my little sweeties. Off to make cookies!
God sent us a snow day so I could connect on a deeper psychological level with these perfect little humans who sprang from my loins!
Okay, maybe not that last one. Someone like that would totally get deleted from my friend list, toot sweet.
My own status update this morning:
Why why WHY are these kids home?! We just had a weekend THREE DAYS AGO!
The insanity began yesterday before the end of the school day. I spent some time in Jerame and Brandon’s elementary and the kids were literally dancing down the hallways in anticipation of a Major. Snow. Event. Truly, I think we need to put a parent block on the following TV channels: Playboy, Skinemax and The Weather Channel. There’s no reason in the world for kids to have a full 24 hours notice that they are getting a whole day off to wreak havoc. It gives them way too much planning time.
When we got this automated call from the school district last night I shouldn’t have been surprised:
“Hello! This is the superintendent! Letting you know that we have had enough of your crazy children for the week. We are calling a snow day tomorrow so you can deal with them. Please send them back on Thursday with attitude adjustments all around. Have a GREAT day!”
Okay, he didn’t actually say that. It’s just how I heard it.
It’s not that I don’t love my kids. I deeply, unconditionally love them to the point of near smothering. And it’s not that I don’t like spending time with them either, because with the exception of their father, there’s no one else I earth I enjoy more than my four little freaks. They are amazing people and say the funniest things in the world. I write a whole blog just dedicated to their utter awesomeness.
But in the last year or so The Herd has become increasingly physical toward each other. I should have seen it coming, being raised in a house chock full of testosterone. I remember my brothers throwing punches in the living room and my mother – instead of trying to break it up – screaming “Take it outside!” (I totally understand that reaction now.) Then I remember racing from window to window watching them roll around the yard beating on each other.
Memories...like the corners of my mind…
And so it begins with our own boys. One nasty word, one perceived slight, one raised eyebrow and someone gets walloped. At any point in the day our four boys are a case study in mixed martial arts (the old fashioned UFC-style before they added the rules that keep people from getting killed). And when I say four boys, I mean FOUR boys.
Before all of you jump in with your usual “That baby is so sweet there’s no chance he would ever do anything mean!” let me just say: Wake up people. He’s evil. Adorable and gorgeous and gummy and sweet and smelling like a delicious mix of graham crackers and baby’s breath, but EVIL, I tell you! The dangerous thing about Evan is the fact that he will smack you whether he’s happy or sad. At 12 months, it’s his basic form of communication: Hey mom, can I have some juice?
I can’t tell you how many times a day the older boys (ages 12, 11 and 7 mind you) come screeching into a room holding their faces, crying “Evan hit me!” To which I reply in my best understanding mommy voice: “He’s a baby, you baby!”
So...getting a visual yet on how a whole day of this might go? And why I was a complete mess on the verge of a nervous breakdown by the time school started last August? At least on the weekends we have a huge list of activities that keep the kids distracted. And I have Joe to help me referee.
Actually, that’s a lie. Joe usually jumps in the ruckus. But at least he’s “dealing” with the issue in one form or another and I don’t have to get involved.
Thank God Cameron’s best friend’s mom phoned last night right after school was called off to ask if Cam could spend the night. Having even one kid out of the mix helps tremendously. And I will say that for about 20 minutes this morning Jerame and Brandon were not only playing well together making a huge blanket fort in the living room, they were actually including Evan in on the fun. They were crawling around in the tunnels they made, giggling and having a fantastic time. It’s at those times when the ceiling of the house cracks open, sunbeams pour down and a chorus of angels belt out a heavenly tune.
At least until one of them ticks someone off and the fighting begins. That’s when the floor opens up and sucks us all down into a much different place.
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