Historically, here in our historic town, the concept of a "snow day" has been met with mixed emotions.
On the one hand ... "No school? SWEET!"
On the other ... "WTF, we're going to be in school all summer!"
The way our calendar works, each snow day (or any other cancellation for that matter) must be made up at the end of the scheduled year. Once, when the roof of her antiquated elementary school was buried in snow and they feared it would collapse, my daughter was faced with so many days off that first grade would have to continue into July. In the nick of time, the school board realized that they would have to pay unbudgeted salaries and utilities, and they stopped the insanity on June 30th, to the delight of young and old.
However, like so many (so many!) other things, snow days are a little different when one is in one's senior year of high school. My daughter will graduate the second week of June, come hell or high snow banks, no matter how many extra days the freshmen, sophomores and juniors have to make up.
This means, of course, that her response to a snow day is one of sheer, abandoned, unequivocal joy.
This also means, Murphy's Law being what it is, that while we had seemingly countless snow days last winter, we had none this winter. Zip. Zilch. Zippo.
(And, of course, this finally means that life is "soooo unfair" and the world is out to get her. Because, these days, everything seems to lead to that same conclusion.)
At the end of last week, lo and behold, the phone by our nightstand went off and a lovely recorded message from the district's superintendent informed us that due to the incoming storm (it hadn't actually started yet), there would be ... wait-for-it ... no school!
Hallelujah!
The same message then came in on my mobile, my husband's mobile, and my office phone. Because that's the way we roll.
When she finally woke up (peacefully, with neither blaring alarm nor bellowing parent), my daughter was thrilled. She settled onto the couch with puppy on lap, cell phone in hand, and computer propped up a couple of cushions away. She ate chocolate chip muffins and watched back-to-back-to-back episodes of Grey's Anatomy.
Then she got bored.
Being a considerate mother, I made some suggestions. She could read. She could clean her room. She could review the article about which she was supposed to write a scholarship competition essay. She could apply for her Senior Project internship. She could pack for the trip we were about to take.
My ideas were not particularly well-received.
After much moping around, she grudgingly bundled up and took the dog for a walk. Then, although I was fairly certain (and correct it turned out) that our flight would be delayed, I insisted we leave for the airport early.
Thinking about the afternoon, I have to wonder. Should I have stopped everything and had a heart-to-heart with her? Should I have pointed out that maybe school was more interesting than she gave it credit for? Was this yet another teaching moment I somehow missed?
Nah. It was just a snow day.
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The last two weeks have been a little bit tedious. Where the weather is concerned.
Since my agency is "virtual," we spend an inordinate amount of time on conference calls. These days, clients and colleagues from other parts of the country have an almost morbid curiosity: "So, how many inches did you get last night?" (Answer: "More than you did in Florida, all right? And stop rubbing it in!") Meanwhile, locals compare the same notes over and over. "I can't believe the kids have another snow day!" Or "Eighteen more inches? Where are they going to put it all?"
I live in a small colonial town. In our historic neighborhood, the homes are very close together, attached in many cases. Once we dig out cars and shovel paths to and from front doors, we end up with piles that can easily be 4 or 6 or 8 feet high. Truly the only thing taller around here is the pile of laundry in my teenage daughter's bathroom. Each day, she adds pajamas, a school outfit and layers of horsey gear from the stable. (Yes, the smell is particularly barnish by now.) You see, I haven't been able to actually do her laundry because the vent from the dryer in our basement is buried under all that snow. And if you run the dryer with the vent unable to ... well ... vent, that's very dangerous.
The things I've learned! Growing up in New York City, we didn't see this much snow. And even if we did, the laundry room in my high rise apartment building would still be operating, I assume. We didn't own a shovel. We didn't have to dig cars out of snowbanks, because (a) we didn't have snowbanks and (b) we didn't have a car.
It's snowing now. Lightly, but I know what's coming. We're expecting another storm over the next two days (our third major snowfall in as many weeks).
I'm so over it!
Meanwhile, my daughter, still a relatively new driver, has to take one of the cars to a babysitting gig this evening. And she'll want to drive to the stable tomorrow morning. She's also the only one among her BFFs who has had her license long enough to chauffeur other teens. So, essentially, she's always the designated driver. "Go slooooow," I beg her. "Pleeeeease be careful."
Roads are narrow and slippery. There are no sidewalks anywhere which means that there are pedestrians everywhere. The banks plowed high create blind spots at every intersection.
Did I mention that I'm over it?
Of course, all snow is not created equal. For example, we go up to Vermont a couple of times each winter and deal with much more white stuff there than we have to here. On ski weekends, giant drifts and piles aren't such a pain. They're "picturesque." Here at home? Not so much.
So, we settle in with a fire, hot tea, cold weather comfort foods like stew and chowder. Let's look on the bright side ... only 6 more weeks until Spring.
How many more storms can we possibly have in 6 weeks?
Wait. Don't answer that.
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