One of those days...

Yesterday was ONE OF THOSE DAYS. Those days when Murphy’s Law has replaced the Law of Gravity and the Law of Thermodynamics and the Laws of Quantum Physics in one’s life.

It started with a beautiful layer of snow on the ground. The weather-man called for around an inch, so I was surprised to see what seemed more like a solid 3 on the ground. The problem with this 3 or so inches of snow is that there were high gusts accompanying the snowfall. We live in what was once a cornfield just 10 years ago. Therefore, we have NO windblocks. The only objects that serve as windblocks in our neighborhood since we also cannot have fences are any shrubbery adorning the landscape. Unfortunately, we adorned our entire driveway with stocky little boxwoods and yews. This makes for a nice look, but also the perfect place for snowdrifts to accumulate on our wind-tunnel of a street. The boys and I set out around 9:30 to play in shovel the walk and drive. It has also been extremely cold for a few days and this cold usually creates extremely light, dry, flaky, easily-shoveled snow. Apparently, this particular snowfall had some icy precipitation mixed in. When I shovel the walk, I go past the neighbor’s corner house and half-way down the other side of the street so Gavin has a clear path to walk from the bus. This was no easy task. So, the boys and I spent about an hour plus shoveling VERY HEAVY 3 inchees of snow with 6-8 inch drifts off 2/3 of the drive (too daunting to do the whole thing) and the walk.

After Gavin boarded the bus for the first time in nearly 2 weeks due to his illness last week and the Monday holiday, I went to print some coupons on the computer and told Grant to consider putting on his shoes because it would be time for school soon. (My afternoon was planned. Take Grant to school. Spend extra time grocery shopping today and clip coupons to help with budget situation. Go to Hobby Lobby with 40% off coupon and browse for a floor lamp to replace recently departed halogen. Pick up Grant from school. Make dinner. Etc.) When Grant heard me mention it was nearly time for school, he took it upon himself to grab my keys and turn on the car. Only he didn’t turn it on all the way, and it sat there for half an hour in temperatures in the teens playing the radio and blasting the heater on high while the light was one due to the open rear passenger door. When I got to the van, I sternly scolded Grant for partaking in such a dangerous activity and tried to start it. It was dead. Therefore, Grant had an unexpected snow day, and I was without a vehicle stuck home all afternoon with a very demanding 4 year old.

When I was donning my coat to meet Gavin’s bus, Grant was just settling in for a cup of hot chocolate. As I was putting on my shoes, I heard the crash and went to investigate. Grant spilled a completely full cup of hot chocolate all over his chair, the floor and the table. We have nicknamed Grant the Master of Disasters and regrettably, he continues to live up to the title. So, I hurriedly wiped up the hot cocoa and equipped Grant with his own dishtowel to pay the consequence for his own carelessness. I embarked on my journey two houses away to meet Gavin’s bus. I had about 2 minutes to spare, so I thought I would get the mail. This is what I saw:

That is our walk and driveway.

The snowplow threw all the street snow back onto the walk and the bottom ¼ of our drive. So, I had to slip on my boots and re-shovel the walk and drive. This time, the snow was EVEN HEAVIER due to the snow pack and ice from the road snow that was heaved onto our drive. Fun! (1/2 empty)

Since I had the entire afternoon free, Grant and I made the enchiladas ahead of time to bake at dinner. He added his own ingredients to his, and as I was topping the grown-up enchies with some smoky, spicy sauce, he insisted he have some, too. I was pretty sure he just wanted to play with the sauce topping whatever he could, so I encouraged him to have his sauce on the side in case he didn’t care for it. HE INSISTED, so I obliged. When dinner came, he refused to eat stating he hated the spicy sauce. He spent most of his time at dinner picking apart his tortilla to remove the sauce. We spent the entire time at dinner telling the boys to sit properly at the table, to eat and to ‘stop saying bad things about the food mommy spends so much time preparing for them.’ It fell on deaf ears and dinner was no fun.

It was just one of those days.

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