My dear husband left the care of our precious kiddos to me on Thursday morning as he traveled south for a 3-day conference (it rained buckets there while we faced 2 feet of snow). That first night, the youngest boy did not yell down the hall, “Mommy, the potty’s stopped up!”
And Mary did not excite the baby into swinging her whole body around while I was holding her. Nope, I’ve never been taken unawares by baby fingernails in my eye. And I’ve never experienced the excruciating pain of a scratched cornea. Or the sensation of tears pouring down my face, nose running, spasms forcing me to squint.
“Mommy, wipe my butt!” Did not happen.
Nope, you won’t have to picture me holding a wet towel over my injured eye with one hand while wiping my four-year-old’s bottom with the other. Or plunging the toilet, repeatedly. It’s never even crossed my mind that maybe the contractor of this house we’ve rented used substandard waste pipes. Plunging the toilets every few days is absolutely unheard of around here. Flushing while crossing your fingers? You’re kidding, right?
The next day was relatively uneventful. We just waited. for. the. snow. I never for a minute doubted the weather report. Never, not me. And then it came. And kept coming.
On Saturday morning we were up to about 18 inches. Peter was sick (we have had a cold making the rounds) and sleepy, so he slept, but the older kiddos begged and begged me to play in the snow. So, I sent them out in the backyard.
Let me be perfectly clear here. I did not put my waterproof boots on Mary and Daddy’s boots on David and tighten the laces super tight. The kids’ snowboots have definitely not disappeared in the blackhole of our move, I never lose or misplace anything, especially nothing as important as boots to keep the kiddos’ tootsies warm and dry. And if I had lost the snowboots, I would (yes, really) run out and buy new ones right away…I would never contemplate wrapping my kids feet in plastic wrap or plastic grocery bags instead. So, Mary and David did not clomped down the stairs and into the backyard in clown feet. Nope, didn’t happen.
And when they opened the back door to the garage and the snow came in and needed to be cleaned up, it did not suddenly dawn on me that the last time I had seen the snow shovel, it was laying in the grass in the backyard after the last snow. I did not frantically search the garage for it hoping that I was mistaken…not necessary! And I never panic. I always know where my important tools are!
The next day, Sunday, the kiddos were excitedly anticipating Daddy’s afternoon arrival. The drive still needed to be shoveled. My snow shovel was not still missing. I did not trudge through snow up to my knees to the shed in the back of our yard and retrieve our garden spade. I did not consider, even for a minute, spending the entire day trying to shovel our drive with a garden spade. That would be completely idiotic. (A garden spade does make a good snow shovel detector if used in the right way and it sure beats digging it up with your hands or a cardboard box.)
Hubby came home to a family very happy to see him and a shoveled drive. He also brought a special gift for the kiddos: their own snow shovel. Praise God!