I don't complain about Saturday and Sundays, my children are supposed to be home. I didn't even grimace at Monday's holiday, MLK is an important person to honor. I even smiled as we stayed home all three of those days because the weather was too icy to leave.
But COME ON!! A snow day 24 hours later? I love my children...I REALLY do, but so far I've broken up eight fights, cleaned up two spilled orange juice cups, wiped bottoms, scolded bigger girls for make-up overuse, watched boots fly across the room, seen two underwear-only clad boys zoom past me screaming, stopped "drum recitals gone wild" upstairs, made breakfast, squelched girl-wrestling in the play room(?), put three different costumes on a three year old, started the laundry, heard how there is nothing good on TV (we have 120 channels, remember?), reminded Sutton that her siblings have a mother so she can calm down, threatened to send them ALL to their rooms, explained 37 times why we can't go outside right now, and my dear, sweet wonderful Reagan keeps following me around like we're attached at the hiney cheeks as she tries to discuss anything she's thought about in the last four years! It's not even 10am yet.
I will find somewhere to take them. It may take us two hours because I have to drive 5 mph, but we are getting out of here. Maybe they'll stare out the windows quietly as they look at the snow, maybe they will all fall asleep out of boredom; either way they'll be buckled down, in one spot, fully clothed, and at the mercy of one crazy, hormonal, pregnant lady driving.
Jimmy, I hope you are enjoying that company meeting with the fancy hotel, fancy food, and adult conversation. I think I deserve a venti java chip frappaccino when you get home...with the whipped cream and chocolate drizzle on top this time, as I'm feeling a little needy.
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