The weather people have predicted 62 tons of snow for tomorrow and we will all have to stay inside until the pool opens on Memorial Day, or something equally dreadful. Unfortunately, I actually needed bread and milk, so off to the Kroger I went to join the mob of terrified Southerners. I hoped going at 9am would mean less frenzied chaos. No such luck. Everyone there looked dazed and confused. That’s just how I look, so I have an excuse.
I ran into a couple of women I know. They have kids about Monkey Boy’s age. One wondered aloud if all the sleds will have sold by this afternoon. She’s thinking how much her daughter would like to sled and play in the snow. She’s thinking about making childhood memories. She’s thinking about her child rather than herself.
I’m walking through the grocery store trying to figure out how we are going to simply survive being inside.together. for 48 hours. I have no plans to play in the snow. I did that once this year, the last time it snowed. That’s enough for me until next year. I’m not thinking about childhood memories. I’m thinking about taking sedatives so I don’t eat my young. I’m thinking about how much extra laundry there is going to be. I’m wondering how long I can legitimately sit in my closet and hide while whimpering before someone is required to notify the authorities. I’m thanking God in Heaven that if we get snowed in, Baby Daddy and Katy Kat will likely be here someone will probably take Monkey Boy outside to play because his mother refuses to get out from under the covers.
Good mothers look forward to this sort of thing. I am not a good mother. I’m willing to live with that. I’m not willing to play in the snow.