I live in the south. Where whispering the words "wintry mix" sends the masses out for milk and liquor and toilet paper. Southerners don't do cold adverse weather well. We totally rock hurricanes, and can even handle ourselves in the occasional flood. But dear lord, do not expect us to act even remotely competent when anything frozen, near frozen, or almost frozen falls from the heavens. It drives us mad. Just ask the mothers from states that specialize in blue skies and flip flops and garden parties. At the mere hint of winter weather we automatically go into survival mode, descending upon Target and the Teeter and Kroger, emptying the aisles of all things vital to life--wine, coffee, movies, snow boots, milk, sleds, and bread. We then wait, camped out in front of the TV on our phones, checking the local news website, Facebook, and the school website in a manic rotation while watching the scrolling lists of closings to know the exact moment that school is called off. And then, when we know that the mere threat of the white stuff has so stressed out school officials that they decide it would be crazy dangerous to attempt school, we experience that odd mix of jubilation that we get to sleep in and terror that we have to fill a full day with child entertainment.
Our preschool follows the school calendar. No school, no preschool. Early dismissals, delays, and missed days. We do what they do. This week that means out early on Tuesday, no school today and none again tomorrow. That is a lot of hours that I have to figure out what to do with a four year old who is used to going to preschool every day. She played outside for exactly 12 minutes this morning, but due to the Baby Bear being only 5 weeks old and it was roughly 12 degrees, we couldn't go sledding or for a walk or build a snowman. Instead I spent that 12 minutes standing on the porch in my pajamas where I could see the baby and the child at the same time, drinking my coffee and shivering. She was over it quickly due to the frigid temps, which left like another million hours to entertain her. What to do?
|Do all the things. And then do dishes in your undies.|
I now understand how Jack felt.
And I still have 12 hours to fill up tomorrow. The good news is I have my 6 week postpartum check tomorrow morning. I never knew I could be so excited for a pelvic. Godspeed Southern mamas. May you too be lucky enough to have a gyno appointment tomorrow.