Snow Days

Three days without school.  We had MLK day, and that night received emails saying that Tuesday was cancelled... then Wednesday... then Thursday.  And it's still snowing.  I spent the first morning taking advantage of the extended deadline for mid-term comments, sitting in Cloud City and pounding out the paragraphs.  Here I am again.  This is the place for snow days. 

It was packed, loud, and steamy when I walked in, not even a chair to sit in, and the floor is soaked from boot-stomping.  I took my time putting honey in my cup of green tea so that by the time I was done, someone vacated a chair that I darted for from across the cafe.  I sat next to a family that was commenting on the quality sledding up the street, and recommending helmets -- several people had seen blood in the intersection.  That is NOT my version of a great snow day.

This warm cozy writing time is the only way for me to get some "me" time on a day that prohibits driving Hudson to the community center, too wet and icy to just go for a stroll, so what is a toddler to do but stay home and scribble on the table... and the chair... and the carpet...  And the separation anxiety seems to be peaking.  It's pretty hard to leave the room without having  a little hand grab my thigh (a better technique than grabbing a hand) and pulling me back.  It's also pretty hard to even just lay on the floor and do some abdominal exercises in the same room if I'm not putting my face up to his puzzle and helping him find the other half of the turtle. 

The only thing for a mamma to do is pack up the laptop, methodically bundle myself and try to ignore Hudson's increasing panic that I will be leaving, and give him a quick kiss while Papa gives him hugs (read: pins him down).  I'll be damned if I have three snow days off school and the only "me" time is running through my flamenco pieces in the basement of the in-laws house where I have my practice floor.  It feels great to dance and to take my time and to know I don't have a schedule, but it also feels great to read a Coleridge poem about snow sent out by a colleague, to reflect on my days and my life, and to feel like an intelligent adult.  I might read the news.  In Spanish.  I might read my favorite blogs.  The opportunities are endless with free wi-fi.  But I'd better keep going if I want to write a blog post AND read something, since Ben and Hudson will be coming to play in the kiddie corner any minute.  After all, little babus needs to get out of the house too.