Showing up for Snow Days

        I have mixed feelings about snow days.  I love that I don’t have to scramble out of bed in the morning, push aside the piles of books that cover every surface of my house and pack unvarying unhealthy lunches that my kids won’t like. I don’t have to rush and brush my teeth before I wake the kids up because I might not have the chance once they are up and I am herding them out the door like cats to a bath.  Instead, I look out my window at the drifts of pristine white snow. Not yet concerned with the weight of aforementioned snow or what to do with aforementioned kids.

  The concerns become very real as I "sense" a tiny person standing next to my bed just staring at me with round blue eyes reaching out until her small hand touches the blanket and tugs at it insistently. This would totally freak me out if it wasn't how my kids woke me up every day. 

Suddenly, the whole day stretches out, unstructured before me. What may sound blissful to those free spirits like my husband immediately causes my throat tighten and my heart constrict. 

        No structure means everything is in play, more balls than I can possibly juggle. I immediately begin to fuel my arsenal to combat: boredom, complaining, bickering, breaking things, need for exercise, and worst of all, meals and snacks.  And that is just what I’m preparing for on a behavioral level.  I also have to think through the possible pitfalls of emotions; mine and theirs… panic, anger, frustration, and disappointment all seem more potent on unstructured days.  

So here is what we did.  I didn’t really plan it.  After almost 9 years it is starting to dawn on me that anything I plan will be thrown off and anything I think I've figured out will change drastically in 6 months when they all go through new phases of growing up.

   1. I left breakfast to David and since he'd already prepared eggs and bacon Saturday and Sunday, we decided to use this as an opportunity to teach the kids to be self-sufficient and fend for themselves. Fortunately we had plenty of time for the five to ten spills that inevitably ensued. After breakfast, I strongly encourage getting dressed which one of my children resists more strongly than the others (hint: it’s NOT the one who has somehow procured a Disney princess outfit for every day of the week. Even though we wear uniforms to school and buy almost everything second hand.) 

2. Next, I worked on tiring them out…chores and shoveling.  Everyone has to go outside.  My Disney Princess does NOT like this rule.  She is constantly trying to relocate to Florida or California, both of which put her near  her three favorite things: Disney, the beach and grandparents and away from the cold, heavy lifting and unflattering hand-me down boots. 

3. I always decide to have school anyway because I am a teacher. I am also the daughter of a zealous teacher.  Fortunately, I have the perspective to see how good for me it was.  So, we all spend 30 min to an hour working on things we are learning.  For my four year old that is still the alphabet.  The six year old challenges herself to identify her first sight words. And my darling dyslexic high year old sets his face like flint to the Orton-Gillingham workbooks. I do my best to be satisfied with 5 minutes of focus and 45 of emotional meltdowns and fighting because apparently I missed the memo that the whole point of snow days is NO SCHOOL and everyone is a little hangry.

4. So we have lunch.  Again with the all important fending for themselves.

5. Now it depends on timing but we throw on a TV show or perhaps like today if they are being undeniably well behaved I read aloud. Finally, nap time and screen time. The only real requirement for these two hours are that it is quiet.  

The rest of the day is somewhat of a blur because it is not very unlike a school day. Today the girls made an art gallery which my son promptly sabotaged.  We watched a Barbie movie and got pizza.  David made a fire and I set the vacuum on fire trying to tidy up the debris from the logs and accidentally sucking up a spark that had flown out of the fireplace.  

Everyone is now in bed. We survived the dust fueled inferno, the fighting and the noise.  They ate and slept and read.  Still, one of the hardest things about being a parent is that there is no real metric.  No daily check in to see how I fared on the cosmic parenting scale.  So, before I climb over the stacks of books next to my bed I remind myself of a Woody Allen quote I once pinned, “80% of success is showing up.”