Snow Day!
So snow fell last night... I fucking hate snow. I mean, it’s ok if you are on holiday in some beautiful alpine village, enjoying the crisp mountain air, without a care in the world, but when you have to get kids to school, husbands to work, dogs walked - it’s a different ballgame.
My kids, I hasten to add, love snow. Why wouldn’t they? Snow offers the chance of that magical day off school - the elusive “Snow Day”.
Now when you mention the phrase “Snow Day” - it conjures up an image of a family joyfully taking turns sledging down a hill, grinning and giggling all the way. Little red ruddy faces, sparkling eyes, happy times.
Well don’t be fooled my friends, that image is bullshit.
Let me tell you about the snow day we had last year.
Teddy woke at the ungodly hour of 5am, (why does this only ever happen at weekends or on days when the kids are NOT due to go to school?) and proceeded to loudly bulldoze his way into our room yelling “SNOWWWWW!”
This, of course, woke Ben up and the two of them spent the next few minutes manically jumping up and down on our bed shouting “Snow Day! Snow Day!!”
My immediate thought was that my long-arranged plan (which incidentally happens once in a blue moon) to see an old school friend would have to be shelved - just typical.
So the kids start pulling all of their clothes out of their drawers... pants and socks flying everywhere, as Teddy wails out loud, “Where are my gloves?!” Um, boys, small problem - It’s 5 fucking 30 in the morning!
I manage to coerce the kids into having breakfast (by proffering chocolate spread and sprinkles on toast - don’t judge me) before they hit the garden.
In the meantime, Teddy dispatches me to the garage to get his wellies. I spend the next 10 minutes, totally underdressed in my pjs, looking for the bastard wellies... freezing my tits off in the process.
Can anyone please explain why the aforementioned “bastard wellies” are easily visible in the garage throughout the whole year apart from the one sodding day you need them?
Needless to say they weren’t found and Teddy had to go out in his trainers.
I have to say, that wrapped up warm in hats, coats and gloves - the boys did look cute. Teddy had a wide grin as he delightfully gathered snow to make a snowman. This magical moment lasted approximately 2 minutes. Suddenly I hear a shriek as Ben chucks a huge icy snowball at Teddy, which lands with a thud directly on Teddy’s nose. Well, of course, Teddy starts to bawl really loudly and come running in for a cuddle. Straight across the kitchen floor, leaving dark wet footprints all over my kitchen. Super! I manage to subdue him and send him back outside, giving a stern warning to Ben to leave his brother alone. Ben at that point sneakily smiles and it is clear he has no intention of leaving his brother alone. Little devil.
As I think it’s safe to leave watching the boys for a few moments to get my coffee fix, Teddy comes rushing in wailing. Ben swiftly follows, pissing himself with laughter. “Teddy’s rolled in poo! Teddy’s rolled in poo!” Ben guffaws. WTF?
Teddy stands before me utterly bereft with thick lumpy shit all over his jacket, hat and gloves. He stinks. I reckon it’s bloody fox poo.
It turns out he was doing a snow angel, but happened to do it in the one spot in the garden where some dickhead fox had decided to take a dump. Bloody marvellous.
So that sums up my feeling for snow days - far from idyllic.
Actually, pretty crappy. Literally.
My kids, I hasten to add, love snow. Why wouldn’t they? Snow offers the chance of that magical day off school - the elusive “Snow Day”.
Now when you mention the phrase “Snow Day” - it conjures up an image of a family joyfully taking turns sledging down a hill, grinning and giggling all the way. Little red ruddy faces, sparkling eyes, happy times.
Well don’t be fooled my friends, that image is bullshit.
Let me tell you about the snow day we had last year.
Teddy woke at the ungodly hour of 5am, (why does this only ever happen at weekends or on days when the kids are NOT due to go to school?) and proceeded to loudly bulldoze his way into our room yelling “SNOWWWWW!”
This, of course, woke Ben up and the two of them spent the next few minutes manically jumping up and down on our bed shouting “Snow Day! Snow Day!!”
My immediate thought was that my long-arranged plan (which incidentally happens once in a blue moon) to see an old school friend would have to be shelved - just typical.
So the kids start pulling all of their clothes out of their drawers... pants and socks flying everywhere, as Teddy wails out loud, “Where are my gloves?!” Um, boys, small problem - It’s 5 fucking 30 in the morning!
I manage to coerce the kids into having breakfast (by proffering chocolate spread and sprinkles on toast - don’t judge me) before they hit the garden.
In the meantime, Teddy dispatches me to the garage to get his wellies. I spend the next 10 minutes, totally underdressed in my pjs, looking for the bastard wellies... freezing my tits off in the process.
Can anyone please explain why the aforementioned “bastard wellies” are easily visible in the garage throughout the whole year apart from the one sodding day you need them?
Needless to say they weren’t found and Teddy had to go out in his trainers.
I have to say, that wrapped up warm in hats, coats and gloves - the boys did look cute. Teddy had a wide grin as he delightfully gathered snow to make a snowman. This magical moment lasted approximately 2 minutes. Suddenly I hear a shriek as Ben chucks a huge icy snowball at Teddy, which lands with a thud directly on Teddy’s nose. Well, of course, Teddy starts to bawl really loudly and come running in for a cuddle. Straight across the kitchen floor, leaving dark wet footprints all over my kitchen. Super! I manage to subdue him and send him back outside, giving a stern warning to Ben to leave his brother alone. Ben at that point sneakily smiles and it is clear he has no intention of leaving his brother alone. Little devil.
As I think it’s safe to leave watching the boys for a few moments to get my coffee fix, Teddy comes rushing in wailing. Ben swiftly follows, pissing himself with laughter. “Teddy’s rolled in poo! Teddy’s rolled in poo!” Ben guffaws. WTF?
Teddy stands before me utterly bereft with thick lumpy shit all over his jacket, hat and gloves. He stinks. I reckon it’s bloody fox poo.
It turns out he was doing a snow angel, but happened to do it in the one spot in the garden where some dickhead fox had decided to take a dump. Bloody marvellous.
So that sums up my feeling for snow days - far from idyllic.
Actually, pretty crappy. Literally.
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