Early last week, the weather predictions started rolling in. The kind of stuff that makes school-aged kids almost as excited as they get about Christmas.
A snowstorm was on the way. Estimated accumulation of 9-15 inches.
On Tuesday, my teenaged offspring were already trolling Weather.com to assess the value of their "homework poker hand."
To do...or not to do?
Fortunately for them, they played conservatively. :o) Wednesday morning we awoke to nary a flake on the ground. Three grumbling teenagers and a pre-teen shuffled out the door--bookbags and lunches in hand.
At 9am...true to the weather reports, the first flakes started to fall.
And I have to admit. I was as giddy as my kids. We haven't had a "good, old-fashioned snow day" here in a couple of years. I was out of town last weekend, in Lawrence on Monday for teachers' meetings, so I was missing hanging out with them. And our "snow days"? Well, they're numbered. I was really looking forward to a lazy day at home in jammies, watching TV, drinking coffee, sleeping in.
By late afternoon, our backyard looked like this:
By 4:30pm, the "powers that be" at the school district called it. No school for Thursday. The "snow day happy dance" began in earnest.
Teens and pre-teens hastily made late night TV and Playstation preparations.
True to the predictions, it dumped snow all night long and was continuing to fall with gusto Thursday morning.
Thursday morning, "Snow Day Reality" hit.
~ I don't like winter. And I really don't like snow very much. I had forgotten this little piece of information.
My dear friend and cousin by marriage, Stephanie, put it so very eloquently on Facebook:
I think I would like snow more if it were warmer.
And made out of sand.
And next to the ocean.
And made out of sand.
And next to the ocean.
I suppose that's what "snow" is like in SoCal.
~ My 13 year-old son, who conned me into letting him spend the night at a friend's house on Wednesday night, is the owner of one psychotic, ill-behaved, Golden Retriever. Because that dog will jump the fence and take off at any chance he gets, he has to be leashed and taken out to go to the bathroom.
Training him to relieve himself in his dog run seemed like such an awesome idea back in the summer. On Thursday morning? Not so much.
That's a long walk to make several times a day with a psychotic dog who just wants to get away from you and bound around in the snow...all over the neighborhood. And a lot of snow to wipe up of off the kitchen floor.
~ Although my idea of the perfect snow day is staying in my jammies, drinking coffee, and reading a great book under a warm blanket on my couch as I watch the picturesque "Currier and Ives" view from my living room window, my 11 year-old daughter's idea of the perfect snow day is to suit up and Get. Out. In. It. And she's not content to be out there alone. She wants company. Me.
I know that there will come a day where I won't be her first choice of people to hang out with and that I'm on borrowed time, but still. I stalled her for as long as possible.
With snow ice cream:
And a sewing project (photo unavailable).
And then I caved. She would not be put off any longer. We suited up. And Got. Out. In. It.
Over the next couple of days (Snow Day Friday, as well), we made snow angels, chased each other in 15 inches of snow, had a snowball fight, shoveled a driveway,
Went sledding:
Made two snowmen:
Harriett
And Harriett's friend.
Drank countless cups of hot cocoa and coffee, and made memories that will hopefully last us a lifetime.
Memories that we can reminisce about in SoCal, where our "winters" better consist of walking barefoot on the beach in February.
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