Today is another snow day. Snow days are a trip, y’all. We hit our weekly quota for sibling togetherness in the first hour of our day. It’s like Summer vacation, but you can’t lock the kids outside without risking hypothermia.
Snow. It’s not the fun kind of snow, either. Some of my favorite childhood memories took place on piles of powdery snow. This snow doesn’t powder. This snow doesn’t pile. This snow is solid ice in disguise, and it doesn’t mess around. Tiny cheeks turn pink on a Rockwell snow day. They jump straight to blue in this nonsense.
Do you know what’s worse than being cooped up in the house all day on a snow day? Day two. Day two is where you lose sight of the mom you hoped you could be. No one has had a breath of fresh air. No one has showered. We don’t have cable. All the board games have been played and subsequently thrown in a tantrum. I don’t like to lose. I kid. I don’t throw the games. Unless it’s Monopoly. Everyone throws Monopoly though, right? That’s why we bought the fancy wooden set when we saw it at Target last Christmas. That sucker can take some abuse.
Do you know what’s worse than day two? You guessed it. Day three. Supplies are running low. I called my husband to tell him there was no food in the house. His response? We have tons of food. Uh, excuse me, sir. That’s not food. Those are ingredients. If you think I’m going to stand in front of the stove and cook an actual meal with tensions at an all time high around here, you’re wrong. Bring home the junk food or lose me forever.
It’s not that I can’t be a good wife or a good housekeeper or a good employee or a good mom. I can. I just can’t do all of them at once. Choose any two. That’s how it goes, though, isn’t it? We have to put all of our energy into one aspect of our lives, or just half-ass them all. You want your favorite hot meal? I don’t know where the kids are. You want me to get more hours at work? Pizza is now a staple. I want to focus on my book for a month? The 11 year old now does laundry. I decide to KonMari the house? Don’t expect to have a sex life.
I always feel like I’m at my limit. I always feel like I’m doing everything humanly possible, but somehow it’s still not enough. I look around, and it seems like every other parent around me is rocking every aspect of their lives. Maybe that’s what I get for viewing their lives through the filter of the Facebook highlight reel. I’m just as guilty, I guess. I post photos of our best moments, but I spare everyone the ten minute negotiations we have to have over socks in the morning. No one gets to hear me say, “Please stop stepping on your brother’s head!” or “We don’t show our butts!” or “Get your tongue off that!” or “You miss the toilet, you clean it up!”. I save that for you guys.
The sun is out, and the ice is melting. I suppose we’ll survive this one. Do you know what’s worse than day three? When day three is a Friday, and it’s still too cold to lock the kids outside. I think it’s time to put down the book, ignore the dirty kitchen, put on a movie, order pizza for dinner again, and just be okay with not being all the things again today.
I think I forgot to tell you about the year all five had two diseases each–none at the same time. That adds up to a lot of weeks. I forgot what color the house was on the outside!