When I was a beginning parent, one of the worst days of my beginning parent life was hearing me utter the most hated childhood phrase: because I said so. I was so horrified to hear those words slip from my beginning parent lips that after I said it, my eyes grew wide, I gasped and then clasped my hands in front of my mouth, as if I had cussed a filthy stream in front of my child.
As an advanced parent, I have completely gotten over my because I said so phobia, and I now say it with abandon, along with several other new and improved choice phrases. In advanced parenting one quickly learns that debating with a child gets old quickly.
This morning when I got up, the entire world was full of school cancellations. In my very groggy not-yet-awake haze, I tried to listen to the speed-dial version of all the schools that were closed to see if our district was on the list. No - No - No - They're always closed - No - No - Seventh Day Adventists Have a School? - No - No - No - No. I gave up and stumbled to my computer and found out that yes indeed, school was closed. I wondered if it wouldn't be easier on days like this, just to read a list of schools that are open (NONE) instead of school that are closed (ALL OF THEM).
The snow day was not a particular surprise. After all, I've been getting my CAPS LOCK EMERGENCY EMAILS for the past several days. They have warned me to put gas in my car, get my prescriptions filled, and stock my car with all necessary provisions (blankets, food and water) in case I get stranded.
Odd -- they never suggest stocking the car with a SHOVEL. But I digress.
Finally, last night, sometime after 11pm, the snow came. And all the schools closed. And the parents cried because their workplaces do not believe in snow days.
At 6:30 am I grabbed some clothes and went outside to start shoveling. I figured I had an hour, and could at least make the requisite tire tracks to make it out the driveway. Armed with boots, coat, hat, scarf and mittens (mismatched, because that's all I could find) I went out to face the beast.
There was maybe five inches of powderpuff snow on the ground -- not even enough to warrant stocking the car with a half-eaten bag of stale French fries. As I surveyed this less than impressive scene before me, I heard myself mutter: This is IT? Unbelievable! When I was in school they would NEVER close unless there was THREE TIMES as much.
I gasped and clasped my mismatched mitten hand to my mouth. I had done it again. I sighed thought I should go inside immediately, take off my shoes and socks and start walking to work. Five miles. Uphill. Both ways.