Bombogenesis eve. The phone call we were anxiously awaiting finally came: No school tomorrow! The kids high-fived each other. I curled up a little tighter under my blanket. I was relieved I could “sleep in” the next morning and that I had already braved grocery store-maggedon earlier in the day.
I’m a creature of habit when it comes to snowstorms. While milk and bread are practical purchases, I go into a trance as I walk the grocery aisles, loading up on sweets as if tapping into some primal need for chocolate, brownies and chocolate chip cookie dough. Of course, I throw some bananas and carrots in the top of my cart, just in case I should see someone I know.
Now I focus on all the things I will accomplish on my “snow day.” I could easily catch up on my 2018 to-do list, which was really a carryover of my 2017 to-do list, which may or may not have included some 2016 items that never quite seemed to rise to the level of importance.
Honestly, I knew what was ahead … a day spent with my family with no commitments, a day of eating, and zero being accomplished on that to-do list.
It went something like this:
6 a.m.: Bombogenesis is here. My snow day starts as my day usually does … waking up around 5:30 a.m. Why can’t I turn off my internal clock and sleep an extra hour on the days I don’t have to get up? Try as I might, I can’t fall back to sleep. I sneak downstairs to steal a quiet hour but my teenage son is already in the basement on his Xbox. OK, still quiet until the 6-year-old wakes up. Soon the entire house is awake and we take a moment to thank our lucky stars that we are inside, warm and together.
7 a.m.: Breakfast. The usual. Cereal, toast, yogurt, fruit. OK, so far so good. Not a chocolate cookie in sight (but I know they’re there).
It’s a new year and I am trying to make better food choices, but what’s a girl to do when at the computer bombarded with Girl Scout cookie ads? Is this some mastermind plot by the Girl Scouts, knowing everyone in New England will be home at their computers setting the Internet on fire during the record Bombogenesis? I resist ordering the cookies but reward myself with a brownie.
11 a.m.: The kids are playing on various electronics but they’re already asking me what’s for lunch.
11:30 a.m.: I give in and we have lunch. Does this mean that dinner will be at 3 p.m., followed by after dinner snacks at 7 p.m.?
4 p.m.: I honestly don’t know why grocery stores are inundated with customers the moment news of a storm hits. It really should be a craft store or the library … something to keep everyone’s mind busy, and not our stomachs. Construction paper, crayons, markers, board games, and puzzles are much healthier choices. Unplugging allows for re-connection. Conversation flows smoothly and unhurried when you’re all around the table coloring together. Although I won’t be able to post a picture of the blanket I had planned to crochet, the blackboard wall in the kitchen I finally intended to finished, or the satisfaction of a completed to-do list, I will have the memories of quality (and in this case, quantity) time spent with family.
8 p.m.: We survived. My advice for the next snow day is to make sure you have plenty of bread and milk (and chocolate and brownies and chocolate chip cookies), but don’t forget to keep everyone busy doing something fun and creative, engaged — and unplugged — even for a few minutes. And hopefully there will be school tomorrow.