I woke up and told my sweet husband I needed 10 more minutes of sleep. . . 10 minutes later, that saint is back to remind me that the day awaits and if I'm going to have a shot at getting to work on time I better get up; the roads are bad.
I don't want to get out of bed. I want to sleep in like my daughters are. I'm stiff as the cold floor meets my bare feet. I hate the cold.
I look outside. The stupid snow is glaring at me. On the days when I was a stay-at-home-mommy, I would look outside at the snow and see images of making snow angels with Essy, building a snow man, or simply eating handfuls of the white powdery ice until we couldn't feel our fingers. . . we'd come inside and make hot chocolate (or "warm-chocolate", according to my very literal 3 year old) and we'd snuggle and watch movies and warm up in our pajamas. All day. We'd go no where.
But not anymore, now I am tiptoeing around my house, trying not to disturb those sweet sleeping beauties while I make a days worth of bottles and meals.
Derek leaves to go get the sitter. Yes, the sitter - because although the rest of the world still has to go to work, our childcare is closed for the day due to "inclement weather". Thanks a lot. Now I get to pay for your services that I am not receiving AND a sitter. Let it snow --- let it freaking snow!!
My girls wake up just in time. Just time to make me late, but I don't care. I want to hug their little bodies and feel those sweet rosy cheeks next to mine, still warm from being tucked in bed until 2 minutes prior.
I go to leave so I can be to work on time and change my mind. I'll sit for just 5 minutes and snuggle. It'll get me through my day.
I slip and slide a couple of times on my way there but no damage. Monday morning awaits with plenty to do. I get right to it.
I'm so busy, I have little time to notice how badly my throat is hurting, or the ache in my bones. I didn't feel to well over the weekend but now it's time to put my "big girl panties on" and deal with it.
I get am email at 9:00am. Lucy's school has decided to open. . . Awesome. After some coordinating with the hubs, he decides it makes more sense for him to get Lu and take her in while Ester stays home with the sitter. It'll be easier on everybody.
All day I feel worse and worse. . . but i keep thinking about my loves that need me and I press on, requesting updates from my sitter as the day passes. 3 o'clock my cell rings. It's Lu's daycare: "she has green mucus, come and get her. She can return with a doctor's note."
Oh - joy.
I pick Lu up and take her to the nearest Urgent Care. The receptionist gives me attitude for not having my license because OF COURSE I left it with my husband from our date the night before. That's what I get for trying to have a little fun, I guess.
After calling Derek's administrative assistant to fax a copy of it over to us, we're squared away. 75 minutes and $100 later I have my note stating that Lucy is not contagious and may return to school, it's just allergies.
I am so grateful she is not "REALLY" sick but annoyed that I had to take time away from work and time away from home and hard earned money over this. . . thus, is parenthood, I suppose.
We pick up the sitter and Essy, take said sitter home, and return to ours . . . FINALLY. As I pull the girls out of the car I see that most of the snow it melted. The roads are clear and all that is to show from it all is a tiny patch of melting snow on
our lawn in the shade of our tree.
We come inside and I smell our dinner. . . burning in the crock-pot. FAIL. I peek inside and see the meat caramelizing in the barbecue sauce, all black and crusted. I forgot to turn it to "keep warm" when I left this morning. Whoops.
I give the girls a snack while I try and throw something else together. So much for saving time on cooking in order to have more time playing with my children.
I swear, this feels like one of those stupid Ben Stiller movies that I hate where everything goes wrong and while everyone else is laughing about it, I'm left stressed, just wanting something to go right for the guy! I mean, his name is Gaylord Focker, for crying out loud!!
Out of the cinema - back to reality - feed your children.
Dinner is done: cheese, lunch meat, fruit, and left-over baked potatoes. Watch out, Betty Crocker!!
Daddy is home - just in time! We eat and my husband stomachs the meat in the crock-pot. Saint, I tell you! The man is a saint! I wash the dishes while I hear them all playing in the living room.
Here it goes. My favorite part of the day, when we are all together. The part where I can forgot about the last 10 hours and be thankful for the remaining 2. This is it, Lord. This is it. This is what I do it all for. This is what makes my soul awaken and my heart leap and my eyes well up with gratitude. Those giggles that quickly move into belly-laughs. All those hugs and tickles and even the toots that make us curl over in laughter. Little girls are so cheery. And these are the moments that get us through the bedtime routine. . . the meltdowns and tired whines that lurk around the corner from my little time in paradise.
But as soon as those sweet minds calm and eyes are sound asleep = Bliss. Because I can look at them peacefully.
Tonight, as Lucy fell asleep on my shoulder, I sat with her for a moment in the darkness and I rocked her. I felt her sweet breath on my neck as her hand held on to the other side of my face. And I breathed her in. I thanked God for this sweet, sleeping baby and for this precious window of time that I get to hold her while she sleeps. I felt her body on top of mine and began to cry. How is my sweet baby already 10 months old? How is she so big that her body drapes from my shoulder to my knee? I cried because I love her. I cried because I'm grateful. I cried because I am sad that time is slipping by me so quickly. I cried because someone else gets to play with her most of her days while I am away at work. I cried because I am so proud that this little one is mine. I cried and I cried and I cried. . . and I'm crying while I type this.
And tonight, in about 10 minutes when Derek pulls Ester out of our bathtub and we begin to get her settled and she falls asleep, I will go in her room and watch her breath deeply. I will stroke her hair and be grateful that she is safe and that she is mine. I will cry because I love her. I will cry because I cannot believe how big and how smart she is. I will cry and cry.
Because even though this snow day made me cranky, and even though I didn't get to spend it playing outside with my girls, and even though I still feel like shit and my throat feels like it's on fire, I am still grateful. I am so very grateful for all of the moments that I DO have. And hopeful for more. And just maybe the next time it snows it will be on a weekend, or a holiday, or my work will close too . . . and if not, then maybe I'll take a vacation day!
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