When we were kids, snowday meant a day off from school, more TV than usual, and maybe some rice crispy treats. Playing in the snow was a special added plus. I’m all grown up now with my own children and I can earnestly say that for Mommys, snowdays are a dreadful hell on earth. Add a sick child and they’re a more special hell but still a hell.
No matter how much I prepared and shopped and cleaned, the actual “being trapped in the house” snowday meant perpetual messes and no time alone for myself unless I was cooking. It meant a little one with a stuffy nose who never wanted to nap and wanted to sit on top of me or cry at me the rest of time. For like 14 hours straight at least. I was constantly working but never feeling like anything was worth doing. A feeling of helplessness and despondency began creeping into my bones.
The moment I tried to escape up to my craft room, I was found. The diaper needed changing, the nap was being dismissed. I was not in control. I was hit and kicked. I was unappreciated. I was done. Mark was outside snow blowing.
Maybe it was the knowledge that even if I had wanted to escape, I couldn’t that made me feel like a trapped rat. That my already boundary-less self had even less on a snowday. But way more work to do. Like being on vacation but I’m still in my house. I found myself angry beyond reasonability. Incapable of having compassion for the 2 year-old as she cried and screamed that she was sick for the fortieth time. Yeah I know already. If you let me give you the yucky medicine you’d feel better. No!
I began to chew on my lower lip again. I complained to the husband to no avail. I posted a mini rant on Facebook and found no immediate solace in that action except for the admission that I’m human. Later some good friends personally messaged me and made me feel better. And all that yummy food I’d slaved over and the promise of the wine at the end of the day was of no real help to my crazy cooped up cabin fever riddled mind.
Writing this down was my last-ditch effort to feel like I am doing something proactive for myself. My brain dump. That I’m entitled to my feelings however irrational they may seem. Here’s to hoping but certainly School and daycare will be up and running on Monday. Because in the end it’s still just a Saturday. A snowy Saturday but still just a Saturday. So that in two days, I may go to my therapy appointment and get a check up on my sanity. And it will be a glorious Monday!!!
PS As I was pulling this together, the school called. There’s no school on Monday. Although Fiona is down for a nap. The beatings will continue until morale improves.
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