Because it wouldn’t be a weekend without my obligatory “I hate the snow” post – here you go.
On the upside, it’s the start of February vacation (because the nine or ten snow days the kids have had so far apparently isn’t enough), so I don’t have to worry about driving them anywhere. And we’re getting used to being snowed in now. The snowstorms really started the last week in January, and Marc started his new job on February 1. So we got clobbered that last weekend he was working, and ever since then, Marc’s had the flexibility to work from home when the weather gets really sketchy.
We sleep in late, and wake up gradually. Always, my first step is to check the heat to make sure that it’s still working, then I click on the coffee and wait for the rest of the house to wake up. We bop around the house, all five of us, mixing and intermingling and then separating out for alone time. We read many, many books, play too many video games (I’m looking at you Sam) and lose hours watching sitcoms from the last century on Netflix (hello, Jessie).
Marc and Sam were outside for a while (I couldn’t convince either girl to go out with them). Marc shoveled and pushed the cars around, Sam discovered that our poor dead camry (the car he drove into the garage) makes a perfect base for his sledding hill. Now everyone’s back inside, cocoa-ed and dressed in dry clothes. Sam and Julie are parked in front of the window, alternately playing games on my phone and keeping an eye on the guy across the street who’s shoveling off his roof. I told them to call me if he falls. Jessie has taken over my dining room table (which I had painstakingly cleaned in a misguided plan to fold ALL the laundry) with barbie dolls and dollhouses and Marc is hiding out in our bedroom, watching sports talk radio (which doesn’t make sense, but apparently, they videotape two guys doing their radio show and then broadcast it).
The blizzard is over. And there’s another snowstorm on tap for Tuesday and then again on Saturday. I may never leave the house again.
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