Unexpected Snow Day Adventures

7-8 inches of new snow + high winds + dropping temps = going on our second snow day in a row.  It's served as a nice little break from our regularly scheduled life, but sometimes our children need to be reminded that they are not allowed to go all flying squirrel in the house.  Outside?  Sure.  Whatever.

They've spent large portions of both days outside, and while I sometimes feel a pang that I am not that mom that spends hours outside making snowlumps and snow forts with them, I get over it real quick and get back to my usual routine of setting the trash/ compost bowl/ whatever right outside the door and hollering, "Somebody come take care of this, please!" in their general direction.  Then I hurriedly shrink back in because it is warm in here and cold out there, and that's pretty much all my brain needs to know to make its decision.

Sometimes I stay at the door long enough to take a picture through the glass.  That's just good parenting.

I assuage any residual guilt with the knowledge that I spent an hour shoveling this morning, then I make hot chocolate for everyone and give myself a sanctimonious little pat on the back.

Today I'm doing an experiment in cookie dough, because Adelaide was making peanut butter cookies yesterday afternoon, but within about a minute of turning on the oven, I smelled a very strong scent of gas, so I turned the oven off and called Derek.  He said to get the heck out of the house and call the energy company, who would send a tech out to inspect everything.  So I called the energy company, and they said to get the heck out of the house, they would send a tech out to inspect everything.  The guy on the phone also said exciting things like, "Do not turn any lights on or off.  Do not open any windows.  If you are on a landline, do not hang up the phone, leave it off its cradle.  We do not want to risk creating any sparks.  Get out now."

I instructed Adelaide to get bundled up as best she could with the winter gear right by the front door, then I went upstairs to rouse both the boys from their naps (see flying squirrel reference above; they had worn themselves out by midafternoon) and hurried them down the stairs.

A few delightful pieces of information:  If Atticus is in the house, he is wearing shorts.  We keep our house at 67 degrees in the winter during the day, and 60 starting at 8:30 every evening, but he still wears shorts.  Yesterday, while Adelaide was making the cookie dough, I was doing laundry, specifically boy laundry, which includes every pair of pants Atticus owns and his snow pants because I like his teacher and don't want her to faint from the scent coming off of them every day at school.  Because of all this, when we got out of the house, Atticus was wearing snow pants that hit about mid-shin over his shorts, along with snow boots and two jackets, because oh, yeah, I was washing all their coats, too.  Ditto the multiple, layered jacket look on Caedmon.  We looked homeless, but I figured it was no big deal, we were just going to go hang out at our small town library for a while 'til either the technician figured out the source of the problem or our house exploded in a giant fireball.

We arrived at the library.  There was a hand-lettered sign informing us it had closed early, I'm guessing due to the weather.  Super.

So we went to Wal-Mart, because at least there we'd fit in, right?  I've heard about that People of Wal-Mart website, and while I doubt it applies to everyone on there, keep in mind that some of those customers may look like that because they've been turned out of their house and had to dress in whatever was immediately by the front door.  It's possible.

So we went to Wal-Mart, got the kids' valentines for school, got a call telling us to come back, there would be no slow suffocation tonight.  All the hallelujahs.

The technician was really nice, but informed me that yes, something is up with our oven, and that we are not allowed to turn it on until we get it looked at.  As of today, we have an appliance repair guy coming out in a week to look at it, because that's the soonest he can get here.  Hence the cookie dough in a crock pot.  I mean, I couldn't let Adelaide's beautiful dough go to waste, could I?

I'm not real sure how it's going to turn out; we could be treating ourselves to peanut butter mush tonight.  Or it could be our new favorite dessert!  Aren't adventures fun?

The Snow Day Box

One week ago, the older kids had a snow day.  Cold day.  Whatever.

What this meant was that as soon as breakfast was over our children started obsessing about the Snow Day Box.


The Snow Day Box was an item my mother brought on her last visit along with the admonition to her grandchildren that it was only to be opened on a snow day.  This gave an otherwise ordinary brown cardboard box instant mystique, a magical luster that was reflected in our children's eyes as they asked increasingly fevered questions like "When are we going to open the Snow Day Box?" and  "Where have you been hiding the Snow Day Box?" and "YOU DIDN'T LOSE IT, DID YOU?"

I hadn't lost it, but I also wasn't going to open this box until each child had completed their list of chores on that snow day, a proclamation which was met with astonished dismay, as though they didn't have chores every single other day of their lives.  I never worry about our progeny being mentally slow so much as when I hand them the full compost bowl or gesture to a dishwasher full of clean dishes and their reaction is one of hurt and surprise.  "Hang on, you want me to take out the trash?"  WHO COULD HAVE SEEN THIS COMING?

Thankfully, the Snow Day Box spurred them toward quick chore completion, with very little motherly harassment needed on my part.

Then the speculation began.

The boys guessed that the box contained train parts, because playing trains with Grandma is always such an education.

"Oh, no, the bridge collapsed!  KDOT says that'll be 3.2 million dollars."

"Unfortunately Sam Brownback will never pay to have that bridge fixed.  We'll have to find another way around."

"Now, Atticus, it's very nice that you want to send the hurt cow to the hospital, but what you should have done is send him to the butcher so we could all have a nice steak." *

*Actual statements I heard my mom say while playing with our sons.

Anyway, with a grandma who plays like that, nobody really knew what to expect from the Snow Day Box.

They still weren't sure once it was opened:  Empty band-aid and cocoa powder boxes, pens, play money?

I had to explain to them that they had the makings of their very own store.

Ten minutes later Atticus was charging fifty bucks for a box of cupcake mix and trying to up-sell pads of post-its.  Our middle child appears to have the heart of a capitalist.

All three played quietly, more or less by themselves, for 45 full minutes, before Adelaide tired of the boys asking for ten bucks for a box of oatmeal but giving 100 dollars in change.  The boys were less worried about pesky little things like dollar amounts and more interested in handing the green pieces of paper back and forth as often as possible.  

At the retailers' request, I took a few turns as The Customer.  I bought a box of latex-free band-aids for $20 and a box of BZK towelettes for $1.  (This sounds like a spin on one of those jokes: "If you send your grandchildren empty boxes of Benzalkonium Chloride Antiseptic towelettes and surgical masks- you might be a school nurse.")

I received excellent service on each of my visits, although I've never been to a store where the employees hid behind the counter stage-whispering, "Ring the bell!  RING IT!" then popping up like smiling jack-in-the-boxes at the sound of the merry ding!  I bet their secret shopper scores are awesome.

I packed the box and its contents away at the end of the day, to be pulled out the next time they have an unexpected day off from school.  I've never heard so many prayers for mass amounts of snow before.

Blargh

Isn't it funny how five inches of snow in December causes our children to wake up and cry, "SNOW!", but five inches of snow in March provokes responses more like, "Snow.  Blargh."  Your perspective goes from "Winter wonderland, tra la la," to "Freezing cold, white homogenous wasteland, blargh."

Adelaide is currently using a magic eraser to clean off the front of the fridge, because she's having her umpteenth snow day of the school year and wouldn't stop talking to me.  (WHAT?  I talked to her all morning, okay?  This is naptime, the most glorious time of day, where I don't have to talk to anybody if I don't want to.  And I usually don't want to.)

The good news is: despite all this snow, it is March, which means that spring is supposedly on the way (I'm skeptical), and the kiddos and I are heading south this coming weekend to spend spring break with family.


-Attention, internet creepers:  the previous paragraph is not an invitation to come try and break into our home whilst we are away; notice that I said 'the kiddos and I,' which means you'll still have to face 6 feet 5 inches of corn-fed Iowa beef that answers to the name Derek.  Trust me when I say you don't want to go there.-


I was daydreaming with our children this morning about all the things we're going to do while we're there, listing things like play outside, color with chalk, play outside, jump on the trampoline, and play outside.  Adelaide glumly informed me that we're not going to be able to do any of those fun grandma's house things because of all the snow and cold, when I reminded her that we were going to a magical land called southern Kansas where the forecasted highs while we're there are in the 70's.  THE 70'S.  Adelaide and Atticus jumped around in glee, and Cade ran circles around them, excited because they were excited.

Until then, we just have to get through the rest of this snow day (Adelaide is now cleaning the front of the dishwasher, humming a merry tune because she thinks she's almost done- little does she know how filthy I just noticed the oven door and stove top are!  *Cue evil cackling*), a dance clinic and performance that have been squished into one day due to the snow, parent teacher conferences, and a million other little things.

Gracious sakes, how long has it been since someone cleaned the trash can?  Maybe I do love snow days!

Raise Your Hand If You Don't Like Playing In Snow

Here's my question:  What is it about snow and kids?  They can't seem to resist its siren call, even when you're pretty sure going out to play in it is going to result in the loss of digits essential to needlepoint and balance.  

Case in point:  Our school district cancelled school today because of a combination of snow, high winds and the wind chill factor- in the other words, we're in the middle of a winter storm.  Great!  We get to sleep in (well, the kiddos and I get to sleep in- Derek still has to get up and shovel and do other man stuff), stay in our jammies as long as we want, etc, etc.  The kids have all morning to basically do whatever they want, provided what they want involves books and toys and a decided lack of blood due to sibling battle.

But all they really want is to get outside and play in the snow.

After much pleading, I finally caved, with the caveat that only Atticus and Adelaide could go out- Caedmon was just too little to be out in this weather.  This resulted in cheering from the A's and pathetic weeping from Cade.  I felt so bad for the little guy that I relented (after 30 whole seconds of stalwart deafness to his pleas), spent the next 20 minutes in a hurricane of snow pants, coats, boots, scarves, mittens, and hats to the point where they were sick of layering and just wanted to get outside already, and then...

I made them sit for another minute so I could take photos.

Caedmon was so grateful to be included he didn't care that he could only see out of one eye or that he couldn't really move his arms.  And for all his pleading, he only lasted about four minutes outside.

What was nice about this storm was that almost all our previous snow had melted in the few 40 degree days we had recently, so at least we're not having one of those winters where snowfall stacks upon snowfall stacks upon snowfall (so far).  

I always think it's funny how A and A ask me to come outside to play.  I always say, "No."  You'd think they'd learn.  I do usually try and come up with half-baked excuse as to why.  Today's excuse was hot cocoa.  

Whatever keeps me inside, man.