Oh, The Indignity

Today it was stamps and dot markers. And eighty-seven thousand more inches of snow.

Today it was stamps and dot markers. And eighty-seven thousand more inches of snow.

Today’s snow day, you’ll be pleased to learn, was actually one of the good ones. The kids were cooperated and listened and played and were cute. This may be because I held TV over their heads, with a promise we could watch Thomas and George and Martha at 4:00 if they were good until then. Now threatening TV loss really fucks over one person: me. Because if they suck and lose TV, then I get sucky kids to whom I have to listen for an additional 45 minutes.

We planned a picnic on the TV room floor, with popcorn for Little Liebchen and me and Trader Joe’s cheesey sandwich crackers for Das Big Boy. But then at 4:00, as I was making the popcorn, Little Liebchen dropped and shattered her glass of milk (yes, I’m an idiot and I sometimes give her open glasses with which to walk around). So I shooed her away. Then Das Big boy came thundering into the room, pushing LL’s doll stroller. “Stay away from the play kitchen,” I told him. “There’s glass over there and you could get hurt.” He ignored me. “DBB, stay away. Be careful! Get away from there!” He backed up, then went for it full force. So I screamed at him to move away. Like, really screamed. I am a mom who yells sometimes, I admit it. But I am not a screamer.

And then he moved away, but started to have a meltdown. So I put him in a timeout (or maybe it was a time in, since I went with him), and explained to him that I had screamed not because I was mad, but because I was afraid he would get hurt. And that when it’s a matter of safety, he has to listen and can’t play around. And he stopped melting. And he listened. And we both apologized. Was that me and my kid?!

Snuggle time!

Snuggle time! In sleeping bags that were mine as a child that Gigi just washed and gave to the kids.

The miracle of it was that neither of us allowed it to be anything other than a blip in an otherwise delightful day. We still watched our TV (I didn’t hold the incident against him because a) he had made it to 4, and b) he calmed down so well. (And, ok, c) because I was excited for our cozy time.)

Then our cozy time was wonderful. We watched the shows we’d planned on. We snuggled and snacked. So there was a lesson here for me: That it’s so much better to let go of the tough moments and not let them define the day. Getting mad, or scared, or stressed doesn’t mean one has to stay that way. (Duh. But also difficult).

But let’s be honest: it’s impossible not to let the weather define the day. Seriously. Snow. What the fuck?! I’ve lived in New England for thirty-two of my thirty-seven years, including four years in New Hampshire. I have never seen anything like this. Here are some views from my house:


That icicle reaches from the roof to the ground. Granted, the ground is elevated four feet by snow, but still.


Percent chance our garage collapses?

Today, I went out to shovel our walkway and a path to the car. I informed Das Big Boy of my intentions. “No,” he said, “Only Daddy shovels.” Groan. #failedfeminist. And then I did shovel. And I did a great job. So there. But not so great that I want school tomorrow. Not sure I want to dig out my car. And if the kiddos are such sweetpeas again, I’ll have fun being home with them. I give this a much lower likelihood than the survival of that garage.

And local friends, don’t look at the forecast.

PS: the title of this post has nothing to do with anything, really, except it’s Gordon’s catchphrase on Thomas and I’m obsessed.