Snow days were once cherished occasions filled with leisurely activities like watching snowflakes fall, sipping morning mimosas, and taking a serene stroll to a nearby café. However, they have now morphed into an exhausting experience that feels akin to working an additional shift without any support. Here’s how the typical snow day unfolds:
Three days prior:
You notice predictions of snow and quietly hope that they’re mistaken, wishing for school to remain in session so you can make it to the grocery store before chaos ensues.
Two days prior:
You venture to the grocery store, only to find that the forecast of 1-3 inches of snow has transformed fellow shoppers into a frantic horde, hoarding essentials like eggs, butter, and milk as if a disaster is imminent. You mumble to yourself that it’s just snow and may not even happen while filling your cart with cookies.
One day prior:
You suddenly remember that your liquor cabinet is empty. If you’re going to be stuck at home with the kids for the day (or possibly longer), you need to ensure you’re well-stocked. Off you go to the store to buy wine, beer, and other spirits.
The night before:
As you monitor the weather, it becomes apparent that snow is on the horizon. You think about locating hats, boots, and gloves, but you’re not quite ready to accept that this snow is actually happening. You pour yourself a glass of wine and savor the calm before the impending storm.
Day of:
You awaken at 6 AM to the enthusiastic cries of “It’s snowing!” You grumble under your breath, drag yourself out of bed, and before your coffee brews, you’re bombarded with questions like, “When can we go out in the snow?”
After confirming via your phone that school is indeed canceled, you try to accept the situation. Perhaps today can be filled with joyful memories. You envision a big breakfast, playing in the snow, and cuddling while watching movies.
After an hour of slaving over the stove, you serve burnt pancakes to your less-than-grateful family. Amid the complaints of “Why do we have to eat breakfast? I want to go outside!” you finally sit down to enjoy your meal—now cold coffee and charred pancakes.
Amid a moment of quiet, you find yourself scrolling through social media and notice your ambitious friend, Lisa, has already taken her kids out to play in the snow before 9 AM. Self-doubt creeps in as you wish you were a more engaged parent, rather than hiding in the kitchen.
You eventually decide to gather the snow gear, only to discover your children are playing quietly. You sneak back into the kitchen for another cup of coffee and a cookie. Just moments later, you hear, “Mom, can we go out in the snow now?”
As you search for gear, you find mismatched gloves, a pair of boots that are too small, and an old hat from your childhood. You curse yourself for your lack of preparedness. You rummage through storage and finally uncover boots for yourself and slightly small boots for your child.
After another round of “Mom, can we go out in the snow?” you dash upstairs to get dressed. You layer your yoga pants with sweatpants, don a tank top, t-shirt, and sweatshirt, and put on your adorable snow hat. You feel ready to embrace the day.
With excitement, you announce, “It’s time to play in the snow!” But then your child emerges, still in pajamas, protesting about the ongoing cartoon. You rush back upstairs, dig through drawers, and realize you have no snow pants or snowsuit. In a pinch, you grab some athletic pants, thinking they will suffice.
You head back downstairs only to feel the stifling heat from your multiple layers. When your child finally suits up, they announce, “Mom, I have to go pee.” You quickly undress and redress them, mentally kicking yourself for not considering the bathroom visit sooner.
At last, you step outside to experience the beauty of a winter wonderland—only to be met with a barrage of “Mom, my glove fell off,” “Mom, I’m cold,” and “Mom, this snow isn’t making snowballs.” You find yourself singing “Do You Want to Build a Snowman,” regretting your decision to do so.
You attempt to build a snowman, dashing back inside to retrieve items for its features. As you search for eyes, a nose, and a mouth, you hear “Mom, he needs a hat!” You slip in a puddle and end up tracking snow throughout the house.
After finally reconstructing the snowman, you take photos to share online, secretly competing with Lisa’s snow day accomplishments. You suggest hot chocolate and rush back indoors, shedding layers and leaving a trail of winter gear in your wake.
You whip up a batch of hot chocolate, generously spiking yours with Bailey’s, Kahlua, or any available liquor. Glancing at the clock, you realize it’s only been 30 minutes since you ventured outside.
You turn on a movie and curl up on the couch, scrolling through social media while your child is entranced by yet another viewing of Frozen. You notice that Lisa’s kids are engaged in arts and crafts using snow, and you wonder how she manages to accomplish so much before noon.
When your child announces they’re hungry, you make lunch, only to hear “Mom, can I have a snack?” You hand over a package of cookies, hoping for a few minutes of peace. You search Pinterest for more ideas to keep your child entertained and remember the Play-Doh you stashed away.
You bring it out, only to find that the icing tool resembles something inappropriate for children. Ignoring it, you let your child play with the Play-Doh. However, it turns out you’re the one creating the cake while your child directs you on the decorations.
After cleaning up Play-Doh and its remnants from the carpet, you hear “Mom, I’m bored,” followed by requests to bake cookies. You decide it’s a good idea, pull up a recipe, and get started, but your child loses interest and leaves you to bake alone.
Debating whether to indulge in another spiked hot chocolate, you glance at the clock and realize you still have three hours until it’s socially acceptable to drink. You muster your patience through the ongoing “Mom, I’m bored” chorus.
Finally, you hand your child an iPad for some much-needed silence. As you check your social media, you see Lisa’s kids napping after an eventful morning. You wonder why you didn’t think of the iPad sooner.
With the snow falling beautifully outside, you clean up the trail of wet clothing and puddles, prepare a warm dinner, and pour yourself a well-deserved glass of wine, praying for school to resume the next day.
In summary, snow days, once filled with joy, have transformed into a whirlwind of chaos, requiring relentless effort from parents. While it’s easy to feel overwhelmed, a little planning and some humor can make these days manageable. For more insights on managing family life, you can check out this resource on pregnancy and home insemination from the CDC.