No, no, no, I thought - okay, you had me, I screamed outloud, loud enough so that all the neighbors on every single cul-de-sac speckling this hill upon which we live could hear.
The snow was falling again.
On the night before the children, all three of them, would be returning to school after an extended winter vacation comprised not only of their original 2 weeks off, but also of a week made up entirely of a few late starts and then a few days of outright cancellations, all due to snow, it was snowing.
My love affair with the fluffy white that falls from the sky had ended. In fact, it had come to a screeching halt. It was as if that darn snow was standing outside my bedroom window a la John Cusak in Say Anything (but not as cute) holding a boom box, serenading me to love it again.
I made a decision. It would be what it would be. If we all had to endure yet another day of being cooped up and freezing cold, than so be it. I'd put on my party hat and make it work.
Instead of staying up all night, checking the school closure reports and peeking out under the streetlight, I went to bed. And I slept. When morning rolled around, just as my wise sister-in-law had promised (thank goodness someone in our family watches the 5 o'clock news), the snow had turned to rain. I never thought I'd be so happy to see rain in all my life.
I pulled on my pyjama bottoms and made a few lunches. I drove my middle schooler to school and prepared for round two of getting-three-kids-to-three-different-schools routine. When it was all said and done, and my husband was off running errands (oh, the life of a firefighter), I finally had time to shower. Alone. No 5-year-old in there with me. Alone.
I spent way too much time in the shower. Just standing there.
I washed my hair twice!
I know, can you even imagine?
I stood in that shower until the hot water started to run out. Conserving water was the furthest thing from my suddenly clear mind.
*Note to Self: make up for my water usage by remembering to take some of the many re-usable bags currently holding the laundry room shelf in place to the grocery store next time.
So there I was, draining the last of the water from our hot water tank, not a care in the world, children gone, husband gone, snow gone. Yes, this is the life, I thought as I squeezed the water from my hair, pulled back the curtain and reached for a towel.
And there he was, staring at me, eyeing me, a forlorn look on his face.
Sometimes I forget that I actually have FOUR children instead of just three.
You can't win them all.