December 5, 2010
The last two days have been nothing but me sitting at the computer working on these book edits.
Housework is starting to look desirable at this point.
Even the kids are entertaining.
Keith just shoved a huge chocolate covered peanut butter ball into his mouth.
Tinfoil included.
I almost let it go, waiting for him to realize that he was eating everything, tinfoil and all.
But, my maternal instincts overrode my intense need for entertainment and at the last moment, I told him.
Because wanting to be entertained was also trumped by not wanting to sit in the emergency room because Keith doesn't have the patience to remove tinfoil wrappings.
But I am in the home stretch of the edits.
At least I'd better be.
The marking that is piling higher and higher is almost ready to topple, fall, crash on top of my head and render me unconscious.
Not that actually reading the paper won't result in the same thing, but the process will be slower and less painful.
Nothing for Christmas has been done. . .no shopping, no baking, no nothing.
I didn't visit my mother last evening because I am not doing anything I would enjoy until the last word in the last chapter on the last page has been vetted, corrected and ready to move on.
I have everything except the last chapter.
Tomorrow was supposed to be the delivery date, but, Mother Nature has other plans in store for me.
Apparently, we are supposed to get around 20 mm of rain and 25 cm of snow.
Meaning I am going in to grab all that marking on the off chance that I don't get the last chapter.
Cause there is nothing worse than having nothing to do.
Not that I've experienced such a thing since the day Mer was conceived, but I suspect that it's unpleasant.
The kids, actually more specifically Emily, are anticipating a snow storm of epic proportions.
Cancelling school and university.
Keith won't have to submit his paper.
Emily won't have to get out of bed before noon.
Stephen won't have to get out of bed before three pm.
I'll have to get up at the usual time, because there isn't a weather condition in existence that will deter Frankie from his morning pee pee.
Tikka, maybe.
I have seen Tikka, while it rains, stand in the threshold of the front door, four legs firmly rooted to the floor, collar straining around her neck because I am on the other end of the leash, my legs firmly on the cement, both hands on the leash, rain pouring all over me, trying to get this stubborn diva who believes she is just oh-so-too-delicate to get herself wet.
Even during the lightest of drizzles, she behaves like this.
So while everyone else in my house is basking in the knowledge that they don't have to get up because everything is cancelled. . . .
. . .so they hope. . .
I will be standing outside inj my zebra striped flannel pjs waiting for Bonnie and Clyde to engage in their morning ablutions, so I can go back inside the house and try to fit myself into the dryer.
This means that tonight, Em, Keith and Stephen will ALL go to bed with their pjs on inside out hoping that this tried and true ritual will once again bring them the snow day the so desire.
Personally, I don't assume anything is going to happen.
Too many times I have been lead to believe that the skies will open and deposit such a tremendous load of snow that everything will shut down for a minimum of 24 hours, if not more.
Kids get excited, anticipating all the joy of a snow day, and I always end up being the one to have to go into their rooms at the appointed time and wake them up.
And facing the wrath of the disappointed-kids-who-thought-a-snow-day-was-in-their-future.
Ugly.
Just plain ugly.
Especially Emily.
She morphs from my beautiful daughter into an evil, beast like gargoyle who speaks in tongues and calls me things that no child in their right mind would ever consider calling their parent if they weren't in the throes of a devil inspited possession.
So, I don't believe that tomorrow will be a snow day.
But, I also have no problems preparing for it.
Lots of milk and all other necessities are in stock, so no one will starve to death, and Keith won't dehydrate because he's missed his daily 8 liters of milk.
All four legged furry critters have sustenance enough to last them for several snowstorms.
Stephen and Keith have brought in the lawnmower, so there is no fear that it will have to spend the winter underneath the black covering that's supposed to be for a bbq.
A bbq that blew off the deck during a particularly ferocious windstorm.
Bring it on Mother Nature, cause if you don't bail, again, we'll be ready.
Or at least Stephen and the kids will be.
I'll be inside marking.
Title Lyric: Snow Day by Trip Shakespeare
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