Wednesday, January 29, 2014

Snowpocalypse 2014 (or, Why I am Excited to Go to the Gyno)

My house is a wreck. My hair is dirty. My child is slowly going insane and dragging me down that rabbit hold with her. This, my friends, is Snowpocalypse 2014. Also known as an inch-ish of snow and panic in the streets. 

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. 
We watched movies. We watched TV. I signed her up for the PBS "educational" website which she played on for almost an hour. That is like 17 years in 4 year old time. We ate popcorn and lolly pops and drank hot chocolate and chewed gum. We played the princess cupcake game and Go Fish and Barbies. We gave the baby a bath. She changed clothes 42 times, had 3 timeouts, asked for a treat 75 times, and fell asleep for an hour and a half. After lunch, in a moment of panic and insanity, I turned to Pinterest to find something to do. And, lord help me, I attempted to do a Valentine craft. I lost her halfway through after a disagreement over the best way to sharpen a crayon, and I finished the heart sun-catchers alone while she used up my hand soap and washed Tupperware in the kitchen sink in various stages of undress. At this point I would like to inform you that just because Martha Stewart can use wax paper and crayons and her iron to make a lovely valentine craft does not mean that you can. I speak from experience. 

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. 


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