I really don’t like snow days.

I didn’t always.

As a kid,  I wore my pajamas inside out. I did the snow dance and every other tip and trick kids concoct in order to get the flakes to fall.  I relished in the possibility of being home from school while the outdoors was blanketed in velvety folds of snow.  Whether it was powdery or full on frost filled, any snow that closed school was good enough for me.

I grew up in New Jersey, but I’m originally from Massachusetts.  I’m familiar with snow.  A school cancellation because of snow was practically unheard of.  It had to be blizzard style conditions or a massive run on salt leaving the trucks paralyzed in order for the kids to get to stay home.

During one of my elementary school years, the forecast called for a storm of massive proportions.  The shelves at all the grocery stores were picked clean and vultures circled over the parking lots eyeying those fools who thought they could wait until the last minute to get bread and milk.  The schools were locked down tighter than a chastity belt.

No snow fell.

Would you belive the sun came out and the temperatures actually peaked that day? It was nuts.  Instead of slipping and sliding down the slopes, we were outside swinging on the swings.  And this wasn’t the first time the superintendent called for a school closing and nothing happened.  This was like his second or third poor call.  So guess what happened the next time they called for snow?  They didn’t cancel school and it dumped buckets upon buckets.

Of course it did.  It was inevitable.

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When I was in high school, probably around my sophomore year, there were record school closings.  I went to an all girls, private high school with a serpentine driveway that sat high atop a hill. Navigating the driveway to school was precarious on a sunny day what with soft shoulders, lots of  trees and deer.  Add black ice and snow, the headmistress was calling off school just about every other day.  We missed so much school that year, no one took final exams because we never got through the curriculum.  I’m going to say it was my sophomore year beacuse I learned nothing in geometry that year.  Yeah, that’s what happened.

Fast forward to snow days and school cancellations as an adult.  I love seeing that commerical that shows the kids waiting to see if their school is closed.  The anticipation on their faces.  The joy that comes when their school name appears.  The chest bumps, fist bumps and fist pumps.  It’s hilarious.  What they need to show, though, are the parent reactions.

Oh, how I loathe seeing the girls’ school come rolling across the bottom of the TV screen.  And thanks to social media, I get a tweet, a voicemail, an email, a Snapchat, a Vine, and an XPro II tinted IG picture of the school mascot.

Ughhhhhhh. . . .

So here’s what happened this week.

Monday: The girls were off for the MLK holiday.

Tuesday:  With the threat of a snowfall of about 3 inches, school is cancelled.  Nothing falls from the sky except a big blob of bird poop on my windshield.

Wednesday: School is cancelled again.  This time, there is a legitimate snowfall, icicles and the full on winter freeze.  After the Hubs and I shovel out the cars and salt the driveway, I try to finagle a few minutes to myself to write.  Guess how that goes.

Thursday:  The girls have a delayed opening, which for them, is kind of like another day off.  They don’t have to be dressed and functional until 9:30 and because they can’t tell time, that means they can stay in their pj’s saying, “What can we do now?” until I promise to hang them outside by their heels. Which brings us to today.

Friday: They went to school.  For the whole day.

In the counties today, school was closed.  The YMCA was straight pandemonium with kids who should have been in school.  I ran into a friend whose kids also go to a private school that was in session today and we might as well have been rubbing our hands together, laughing “Mmmwhahahaha” at our luck.  It’s been a long few days. A five day week-end for the kids, as M pointed out.

See, as hard it as it may be for you all to believe, it is not a three ring circus, chock-block of good times at Chez Hilary with One L.  I work from home.  When the kids are home, guess who isn’t working.  On snow days, they catapult out of bed with more force than on Christmas morning, eyes bright in anticipation of not having to get educated for the day. When it snows, they want hot chocolate pumped directly into their veins. Their 30 minutes of daily screen time (yes, I do that), is over before they make it to the next level of Candy Crush.  They want to eat every ten minutes.  They’ve read every book, played every board game, dressed and undressed every Barbie.  They want me to build forts, make cookies, have pillow fights, and let them binge watch My Little Pony: Equestria Girls until their brains start oozing out of their ears.

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I’m not that mom.  I tell them to practice their piano. I tell them to do their math drills.  I tell them go play in the playroom.  Go outside and build a snowman — of course that’s a 30 minute chunk of time getting everyone bundled up for a 10 minute run around the yard. Then they’re back in the house for hot chocolate and another snack, usually the snacks that I’ve squirreled away for me because they’re rooting around in the pantry like crazy chipmunks.

So, I ply them with popcorn and turn on the TV.  I put the baby down for a nap.  I run up to my office and tell myself, “She’ll sleep for an hour and change, M &C will watch a movie and then we’ll do something fun.”  Then V wakes up early, M gets bored with the movie, C has eaten all the popcorn and is still hungry and I’ve done nothing but look at Pinterest for some ideas on what to do for the rest of the snow day afternoon.  For a split second, I think about just letting them play on their devices or watch TV or do whatever they like so I can stop being a short order cook and cruise director on this sinking ship.  The tsunami sized wave of guilt that washes over me, though, stops me.

It’s a snow day.  A little more tv, a few more snacks. It’s not the end of the world, despite the names we give these snowfalls and cold temps.  They sound more like Michael Bay movies than weather systems.  Polar Vortex! Snowmageddon! Snowzilla! Snowpocalypse!

I’d watch that – – – with some hot chocolate, popcorn and the girls, from inside our pillow fort on the next snow free snow day.