Mommy's Developed An Attitude
Living in Canada, on the prairies, there are certain things a person can expect. An inept government, small children playing street hockey, and of course, snow.
I'm a big believer in the "If you can't beat it, embrace it" philosophy. Therefore, instead of whining and moaning about our weekly blizzards, I have learned to love them.
And if you believe that let me tell you about that magic money tree I sell on the side.
Most of the time, I do love the snow. Most of the time I don't have to go to the pharmacist to ask for a pill to kill the worms that may be crawling out of my ass. Most of the time I wake up to get doggy kisses instead of having the dog puke up disgusting chunks of last night's supper he rummaged out of the garbage. All over my upper half. Before I even got out of bed. Most of the time, if the phone rings at 6:30 in the morning, it is my husband calling to tell me how much he loves me and misses me and how I'm the sexiest thing to walk the earth. Instead of a 60 year old dude with a raspy smoker's voice calling to tell me to get my ass out of bed and phone all the parents on the bus route to tell them the buses are cancelled.
Most of the time, snow doesn't matter. Snow is beautiful. A white carpet of freshness that magically erases the ugliness of the day before.
Then there is the dreaded SNOW DAY.
So with the invisible worms, the doggie ralph and the angry parents (because I'm not the only mom who loves Snow Days), yeah, I freaking love winter this morning.
Especially when I tried to open my door to let my damn dog out (and yes, for today, Nixon has lost the title of the World's Greatest Dog. Ever. It went right into the toilet with all his vomit scraped off my arm and chest.) This is what I found:
This is how far I can open my front door. My ass is thin, but it ain't that thin.
This is what my world looks like this morning:
Rather bleak. And try as I might, I just couldn't capture the gusts of snow on camera. That might have something to do with the fact that I was too damn lazy to bundle up and go outside, but oh wait, I can't get out my front door.
For some perspective, this is the tree outside my bedroom window. It is five feet tall.
Yesterday, I could see most of it.
So today, I hate snow. My worm-loving, vomit covered self hates the snow.
To Mother Nature and Jack Frost I say:
Now I'm off to push my kids into a snow bank. That is, after they shovel the deck so I can squeeze my ass out the door.
Well, we are now on day two of the Blizzard That is Driving Mommy Batty. It has since stopped snowing, but the gusting winds and low temperatures mean that my darling children, whom I love more than sanity itself, are trapped inside my home, alone with their stark raving lunatic for a mother. Seeing as how it is currently -31 celcius (that's -24 to you Yanks) without the damn windchill factor, I have to keep everyone inside.
Which poses a problem for my dog who hasn't learned how to use the inside facilities just yet. And why didn't anyone tell me about having to shovel a path for a small dog just so the little shit will shit outside????? Yes, I'm talking to you Mrs. Chicky, dog-trainer extraordinaire!
Every time the damn dog needs to go outside I have to bundle up and brave the elements. I'm hairy, but I ain't that hairy. It's cold out there!!
For the rest of the day I plan on hiding in my pantry, drinking my mommy juice. And when the good stuff runs out I'll just start adding some whiskey to my cocoa.
This way, when the kid's coup d'etat is successful, I will be numb to the pain and oblivious to the consequences.
Pray for me people.