Tales of a Title 1 Teacher

Ok, so I just finished my first full week at the new job. I'm settling in-I can actually go through my day now without carrying my trusty schedule with it's 50 different places I need to be every 10-30 minutes on it. I do like the fact that my day is so fast paced-there's no time to get bored, and just when I've reached my annoyance limit with a particularly challenging...ummmmm...little "personality", I get to give them back to their teacher!  Here are some little highlights from my week, and things I've learned.

-Boisterous second grade boys who are hyped up from being with a male teacher who sings Sponge Bob songs with them, will walk very quietly in the hallway and exhibit stellar behavior for 30 minutes with me just for the bribe promise of getting to eat a single Smartie candy.  Not a ROLL, mind you, because have you seen what they are paying me? But a single, solitary Smartie.  And Canadians, our Smarties aren't even chocolate covered like yours are.

-I'm SO old.  Yes, I re-learned that this week, when reading a book about hurricanes with a group of 4th graders who have absolutely no memory of Hurricane Katrina.  What?! Wasn't that pretty recent? 

-First grade boys graciously extend invitations to their birthday parties to every human being they come into contact with.  I've been invited to two birthday parties this week alone.  I've always wanted to be popular!

-If you are ever feeling down about yourself, or are having a bad hair day, visit a first grade classroom for a few minutes. They are very generous with the heartfelt compliments.  I've had positive remarks on my hair, my nails, my ID badge, my clothing, etc., etc.  It's been quite lovely for my self esteem.

-Kindergarteners and first graders are cute and adorable so that we won't kill them when they are repeatedly screeching across the cafeteria in their high pitched little voices, or arguing over where to sit, or over who took who's blue crayon, or doing the chain reaction thing when one person asks to go to the bathroom, and suddenly everyone is asking, just for kicks.

-Fourth graders seem so big and so old at school, but when I get home, my own fourth grader seems so little and young.  (She's average sized and mature, but it's a context thing.)

-Teachers rock.  I do not want my own classroom again anytime soon.  Getting 27 little people of varying levels and stages of maturity to actually listen and do what they are supposed to do all day every day is a very hard job!  Especially when 5 of those people always need to use the restroom, another 5 of them always need to go sharpen a pencil, 5 more of them can't keep their hands to themselves, and 2-3 of them don't speak much English.

-This job is costing me money.  Besides the books, office supplies, bribes behavior incentives and other materials that I've spent money on, I've felt compelled to chip in for a baby shower gift for a teacher I haven't even met yet.  Plus, a coworker is really trying to get me to sign up for the Zumba class she teaches.  I owe my soul to the company store.

-It's possible for a 5 year old to "accidentally" end up with his fingernails all colored with purple marker like nail polish.  Really, it just happens, somehow, or at least that's what they tell me.  You know, you're just going along, working in the old writing center, happily singing a little song about pee that you made up to annoy your sister, when suddenly you look down at your nails, and whoa! What's this? My fingernails are purple!

-It's hard to turn off the "teacher" when I get home.  I've found myself using the words "inside voices" and "walking feet" after school hours.  I also found myself asking my husband to please stop distracting Tot while he does his homework.  In another couple of weeks, I'm sure I'll be expecting him to raise his hand before he can speak to me.

So, there you have it.  I may not make a lot of money, but there's always something interesting happening!

If I Wrote a Parenting Magazine-Issue 2

I used to be a frequent parenting magazine reader. You know, back when I was still sort of new to the whole parenting thing. I'm by no means a parenting expert, but I've found the advice given in most of these mags to be pretty predictable.  While some of the articles are helpful, and filled with reasonable suggestions, many of the tips given are either too idealistic, too time intensive for busy people, or are annoyingly "trendy." Just because something is cool or popular, doesn't necessarily make it a good idea.

Also, now that my kids are older, these magazines have little to no relevant info for me.  How about a magazine that would give advice on how I can get my 10 year old to wear her pre-orthodontic-mouth-stretching-appliance-dealy that we are paying a bazillion dollars for? Or how to convince her to wear something other than t-shirts and shorts? Or something that would help me teach my organizational impaired 7 year old how to put things away in the right place? (and one for husbands, too) I've tried the brightly colored and labeled bins, and my daughter and I are the only ones who can actually grasp the complexities of how these devices function.  (Perhaps its because we have uteruses...)  Hey, how about a handy article on how I can convince Tot that cereal is tasty, and not a substance to be feared and avoided? We've had this issue for about 7 years.  (Just us?)  Every kid should have a love of Crunchberries, no?

Anywho, all of this curmudgenery (nice word, huh?) led me to create my first If I Wrote a Parenting Magazine, and now I think it's time for another!  The gimmick is that I take actual headlines from a parenting magazine website, and give them the Imperfect Mom spin.  Here we go.

The Right Way to Space Siblings (for you)
Well, when my kids are fighting, I send them to separate rooms.  If we are out somewhere, say at a church without Sunday School, I will pick up the smallest one, with that "don't you dare embarrass me!" Mom look, and put them on my other side, away from the other offender (who is going to get an earful on the ride home, by the way).  Oh wait, I guess they mean "space" in terms of when to give birth to them.  Never mind.

How Can I Tell if My Baby is Teething if I Don't See Any Teeth
Is your baby drooling like a Biggest Loser contestant judging an episode of Cupcake Wars?  Are you in danger of running out of your preschooler's Junior Tylenol because you've been taking it yourself ever since finishing the adult stuff in a futile effort to make the headache from all of the screaming and crying go away? Do you have dark circles under your eyes from staying up to the wee hours of the morning doing websearches for teething remedies?  Have you ever sucked on a frozen washcloth just to see what it felt like and gotten it stuck to your tongue?  Does your baby gnaw furiously on everything it finds-including the dog's misplaced Milk Bone? If you answered yes to any of these questions, then your baby may be teething.  Or, it could just be, oh, you know, a normal baby.  Break out the Infant Motrin.  Orajel doesn't work-trust me.

Do You Know When You are Fertile?
If your ankles are swollen, you have a whole new view of your belly button, but can't see your feet, crave bacon with sour cream and sweet tea, and people in scrubs are urging you to "push" or to "breathe", then there is a strong possibility that you are fertile.  Don't be shocked like Peggy Oleson in Mad Men if a baby is squeezing it's way out of your nether regions.

The Real Difference Between Boys and Girls
Girls come equipped with ROFS, "Random Object Finding Sonar" , while the male arrives with the uncanny ability to screen out any stimuli within eye view or ear shot when sleeping, watching football, or viewing A Few Good Men for the 876th time.  Girls can actually pick up their dirty socks off the floor and put them in the hamper when asked, whereas a boy will spin around in a slow circle, saying "what sock?" until he becomes distracted by Sponge Bob on the television, or a Lego guy on the coffee table.  Girls acquire the ability to roll their eyes sarcastically while still in the womb, and boys instinctually know that kissing Mommy's hand and saying "You're so pretty, Mama!" results in cookies and getting to stay up late.  If you still don't understand the difference, then you may want to grab your significant other, a flashlight and a hand mirror...

Why Kids Lie
So they don't get in trouble.  Next!

How to Handle Preschool Bullies
Smack them on the nose with a newspaper, give a Cesar-like "shhhht", and send them to their crate.

On that note, I think I've dispensed enough advice for one issue.  If you'd like to play along, feel free! Just mention this post in your blog posting, and comment here with your URL.

Love/Hate

I love that rolled up jeans are back in style.  I've been waiting anxiously for this since 1994.  Short women of the world, rejoice!

I hate that "jeggings" has become a word.  It completely irritates me, and I spend far too much time thinking about it.  Yes! I really do think about these things. If you are unfamiliar with jeggings, they are the "sporks" of the pant world-leggings that look like jeans.  Apparently, cheap looking polyester/lycra blends are chic again. I also hate that jeggings are being marketed to the kids who shop at the tweenie bopper store my daughter loves, AS WELL AS to women in their 30's, like me.  I could have worn jeggings when I was 20, but 15-16 years, 2 children and 30 pounds later? Well, I suppose I COULD wear them if I had some waist to ankle Spanx, but really? I think they are tacky, and not even my spell check likes "Jeggings".

I love the smell of my husband's clean T-shirts.

I hate the smell of the dirty ones.

I love that our new dog walks so nicely by my side on a leash.

I hate when my children act like buffoons on the walk-tripping each other, trying to carry each other, laughingly trying to shove each other of the sidewalk, etc.  Basically doing everything they can to annoy me and make the dog nervous.

I love that I found a pair of Justice sweatpants for my daughter at TJ Maxx today for $12.99! These are usually at least $30 in the stores.

I hate paying full price for cheaply made trendy junk at Justice.

I love that when the guy at Chick Fil A asked me if I needed a condiment today, I almost said, "No thank you.  I'm Catholic."  Even though I'm actually not Catholic, and he would have not gotten the joke anyway and would have thought I was crazy-kind of like you are doing right about now. It made sense inside my head...

I hate how cheery the people at Chick Fil A are in the mornings.  Maybe it's just the ones around here, but honestly, they are just so over the top happy and friendly, and want to chat and smile at me and stuff.  I can't deal with that kind of treatment until at least 11 am.  Just say thank you, maybe wish me a nice day, and hand over the breakfast burrito and Large Coke Zero (no ice, please).  It's kind of like when the dog is all happy to see me when I wake up, and he follows me back and forth throughout the house hopefully wagging his tail all morning.  Really, it's sweet and all, but just go lay down somewhere and be happy from afar!  I can't even muster up the civility to say "good morning" to anyone until I've been up for at least 30 minutes-it's not pretty.

I love that my daughter cares so much about animals, and has such a big heart for them.

I hate that she and the neighbor kids decided all on their own to walk down the street soliciting money from neighbors for the ASPCA without telling anyone.  The made it through several houses before my husband found them.  We made them return the money.  It was hard to explain that even though your heart is in the right place, you can't just go soliciting money from people in the name of a charity-especially without telling your parents.  They really did have every intention of giving the money to the ASPCA, but still...  It reminds me of when she and a friend decided to ask the neighbors if they wanted their nails painted (for a nominal fee, of course)-I wrote about that here .

I love that my son is already pouring over a catalog of Halloween costumes.  He can't decide whether to be a special forces guy, a Star Wars guy, Indiana Jones, or Mario.  I always loved dressing up for Halloween, and I'm glad that my kids enjoy it, too.

I hate that Halloween decorations are already in the stores, however.

I love that it's Friday, even though my kids came home today with those dreaded fundraiser packets. 

I hate trying to hawk those stupid $30 coupon books that nearly every other school child in the state is selling at the same time.  I hate that I feel guilty for not wanting to spend $60 so each of my kids will have made at least one sale.  I hate the thought of asking my cash strapped friends and relatives to buy these expenvie things no one really wants.  I hate that they get the kids all hyped up with the "Fantastic!" prizes (listed on the info sheet in BIG letters, and eye catching fonts) they'll earn for conning people into buying selling these.  Then they come home all excited, and I have to dash their hopes.  $60 for coupons that I can never remember to use? Not a good deal.  Why can't my kids sell Yankee Candles like the parochial school kids? I'd be ALL over that one!  I've always thought about just writing a yearly check to the PTO and calling it good.  Honestly, I pay my taxes, I volunteer in the classroom, I donate extra supplies for the classroom, I pay our book rental fees-so why can't I pass up this one dumb fundraiser without feeling like a deadbeat?

Yikes! My laptop battery is about drained, so even though I don't love to do it, I'm going to have to wrap this one up fast!

I hate that the power cord never gets put in the same place twice...

WWCHD? (What would Claire Huxtable do?)

The door from the garage opened abruptly, and slammed with a thud, as two pairs of kid-feet stomped into the house.

"I'm SO mad!" my daughter yelled, tears falling from her eyes, and she shook her fists in the air.

"Yeah, me too! They were being mean to us!", said Tot.

"What happened?" I asked as my husband, the ever-protective Daddy, stood up and looked out the front window.

"Calvin and his friends are outside, and they were spitting on our chalk drawings, and erasing them with their feet!", Little Bit replied in a loud, furious voice.  Tears were still falling, and her skinny little body was shaking with anger.

"They said my horse drawing looked like a cow with a unicorn horn! They were laughing at us!"

"Yeah! They were making fun of us and wouldn't go away!", Tot chimed in.

My husband opened the door, and stalked outside to confront the group of 12 year old boys, still standing in the middle of the cul de sac laughing.  Despite being skinny kids from the suburbs in their Little League jerseys, I'm sure to my husband they looked like a group of gangsters or a pack of wild, snarling dogs.

Calvin is a neighbor boy, who is usually very nice to Little Bit and Tot. I think my daughter has always had a small crush on this normally good natured  and sensitive kid, and Tot looks up to him. 

As their father was outside talking to the boys, I comforted my daughter as best I could, and then she and her brother went upstairs to watch tv, Little Bit still sobbing.

"I'd better come back inside before I say or do something I'll regret to those little punks!", my husband stormed angrily as he came back in the house.

"What did you do to them?!", I asked, worried now.

"Nothing.  I just told them that they shouldn't be teasing kids younger than them, and that they'd better leave them alone."

"Well, that sounds ok.  What did they say?"

"Nothing.  They just ran off laughing as soon as I turned around.  Those little punks.  I'm going to get myself arrested if I go back out there!"

"Boys that age are like that, especially in groups.  They have to try to be 'cool' with their friends around.  I'm sure they'll leave them alone now."  I tried to reassure my husband that Calvin, normally a very respectful kid around adults, probably took the scolding very seriously, despite his reaction with his friends.

"You know, every time I start to think he's a pretty good kid, something like this happens.  I don't trust that boy." My husband's motto tends to be "Trust no one" where our children are concerned.

Let me stop here to clarify that the last time "something like this" happened with Calvin, he was in 1st grade, and my daughter was in Pre-K.  They had been playmates for months, when Calvin saw us outside, getting in our car.  He was in his driveway with a friend, and enthusiastically called "Hi, Little Bit!" (ok, he used her actual name in real life, but you know...), and waved.

His friend loudly remarked, "Oh, Calvin, is that your giiiirrrlll-friend?", in the sing-songy tone that generations of kids have instinctively adopted in times like these.

Mortified, Calvin no longer would wave across the street, and rarely played with Little Bit after that.  Needless to say, her Daddy was incensed by his behavior.  But you know? The kid was only 6 for Pete's sake. Who holds a grudge against a 6 year old boy?

Daddies of little girls do, apparently.

So, as my husband was cooling off, I heard my daughter tell her brother, "I'm still SO mad at those boys! I'd like to spit in their faces and stomp on them, just like they did with our pictures!"

"Don't do that!", Tot replied, clearly horrified.  "You'll have to go to 'juvey'!"
How does my 7 year old son know about 'juvey'?

An hour or so later, after the kids had gone to bed, Little Bit came downstairs, still distraught and crying, but now more sad than angry.

"I can't stop thinking about what happened earlier.  They hurt my feelings and made me so mad."

I felt helpless-times like these are when I wish I could channel a little Claire Huxtable or June Cleaver and say something helpful that will make it all better, but I must have skipped that part of the parenting handbook.
Clearly, my husband was feeling the same way.  He looked at our 10 year old daughter with a mixture of helplessness and compassion, yet there was still a spark of anger in his eyes.

"Come here, honey", he said, and Little Bit curled up on the couch next to him with her Daddy's protective, loving arms around her.  Her sobs slowly quieted, and her fists finally unclenched, as she relaxed.

Two days later, as I think back on that moment, I realize that some day, she's going to have her heart broken by a boy.  She'll have disappointments, and people will do and say things that hurt her tender heart.  We won't always be able to shield her from the hurt, and I won't have any half-hour sitcom type magic words that make the pain go away before the next commercial break.  The mother in me wishes she could stay little and innocent, tucked away at home, sheltered from the hurts of the world, while the rational part of me knows that this is just all part of the growing process, and she will be fine.

My husband on the other hand (who is still stewing over the whole incident), is going to need some Xanax to make it through the growing years ahead. 


By the way, last night I realized that I had forgotten to accept a blog award that I recently received! I don't know how I forgot-maybe it was the heat (our AC is humming along nicely now), or this little situation with the kids-but I am grateful for the award, and will post about it tomorrow!

Summer Fun Facts

Not actually our Slip N Slide.

Fact #1-A brand new Slip N Slide has a lifespan of about 2 hours when 7 kids (5 being boys) have been playing on it.

Fact #2-When you set up a Slip N Slide in your yard, kids you may not even know will show up in your yard wearing swimming trunks within 2 minutes flat.

Fact #3-7 and 8 year old boys don't care how many other boys are in the tiny wading pool.  They will find a way to fit in there somehow, even if they only stay in for a few minutes, before they decide that it would be great fun to slide down the swingset slide with wet pants on.  They will have more grass tracked into the pool within 30 seconds than you knew you had in the whole yard.  They will also inevitably take turns shoving the running hose down their trunks until you catch them and make them stop.

Poor Slip N Slide.  When I was a kid, all we got was a long plastic sheet, and a water sprinkler.  (It was rough back then.) Nowadays, they have all of these annoying fun inflatable parts.  Of course when I brought the thing home, I couldn't find the attachment for the bicycle pump to blow up the inflatable things.  So, I had to hold the thingie (technical term) right next to the air valve doohickie (being technical again), and pump away in the 90 degree heat.  That was fun.  Then, I had even more fun.  Have you ever seen a cartoon where there's a water hose, and the water just kind of bulges up in one area of the hose? Yeah, you can tell this won't end well, right?  Well, when I hooked the hose to the Slip N Slide, I watched, paralyzed in shock, as the water just bulged up in the tube thingamajig (I hope I'm not losing anyone with all the techie speak), and then popped open.  Great.  I managed to get it repaired with duct tape (best invention ever), and it actually worked! For a while. Until the inflatables at the end popped, and eventually ripped off.  At least it was sort of cheap.  Except for the water bill that will be coming.

Fact #4- The same moody, (dare I say, hormonal? Dear God, please no! Not yet!) 9 year old girl who was just crying dramatically because she wanted to be able to play on the Slip N Slide without a bunch of "little first grade boys" (she didn't like it when I said, "Well technically, they're all 2nd graders now!), will end up in the wading pool later happily barking and howling like a dog with a 4 year old, and 7 and 8 year old. 

Fact #5 No matter what, popsicle wrappers are drawn like magnets to my yard.  Even with stern lectures about the easy availability of trashcans.  Maybe popsicle wrappers like Slip N Slides, too.

My Daughter, the Businesswoman

Are you visiting from The Ultimate Blog Party? If so, welcome! My party post is here .

I've never really used my daughter's name on here-I'm not really sure why, but for now, I'll follow that old Mommy Blog cliche and call her a cutesy nickname.  I've called her Little Bit since she was a baby, so we'll go with that.  I call my son Tot, even though at 7, he's probably way too old for that nickname, but he'll always be my Totty.  And I'll probably still be smelling his head when he's in college.  What? Sometimes (probably when his hair needs to be washed) his hair still gets that sweet smell it had when he was a baby.  It's a Mom thing.  Anyhow, I'm getting waaaay off track here, which I'm prone to do.  I'm supposed to be talking about what a shyster entrepreneur my 9 year old Little Bit is.

When she's not playing her DS, or pretending to be a cat or dog with her brother, or writing plays to make the neighborhood kids act in, she's dreaming up ways to make some cold, hard cash.  Need a household chore done? She's your girl, if the price is right.  (Although sometimes I make her do them anyhow, because "I'm the Mom and I said so", and all that).  When her brother had to sell popcorn for Cub Scouts, she was itching to get out the door and sell it for him (even though she wouldn't get the money).  When Girl Scout cookies season rolled around, she set a goal of selling 1000 boxes of cookies. It's so hard to tell your child that they are aiming too high.  "Set your goals a little lower, dear."  See, that's just not right!

The picture is of Little Bit having a Toy Sale last summer during our neighborhood's annual garage sale.  (No, we don't always keep our garbage cans in the driveway.) The stuff you see is only a portion of what she decided to sell.  She did pretty well, she's got the "cute factor" going for her.  One lady came by twice to buy My Little Ponies from her.  She didn't even have kids, she just said that Little Bit looked so cute and hopeful standing out there, that she had to buy something from her.  (Yes, if I've taught her anything as a mother, it's how to stand by looking cute and hopeful until somebody helps you. *Bats eyelashes* What? It's a great skill!)

We live in the 'burbs, in a safe neighborhood on a culdesac at the end of a long road.  There are other families with kids on the other side of the culdesac.  We sort of have an understanding with the other families-the kids can go from yard to yard, or ride their bikes in the area, and we all sort of look out our windows and keep an eye on the kids. As they've gotten older, their freedom has expanded, but they mostly have to stay within the culdesac.  When Little Bit was about six, unbeknowst to us, she took off down the street with another little girl, armed with an Easter basket filled with nail polish bottles.  I can't remember how we found out, but when they got about 5 houses down the road, we found out that they were knocking on doors, offering to paint people's nails for .50! They had earned some "sympathy money" from good natured neighbors who now probably thought we didn't watch our kids, but they were made to return it.  (Not one of my finer moments of parenting, that.)

Then there was last fall.  Little Bit had been busy for days, cranking out woven pot holders on her little loom.  (Remember those little square looms with the loops you weave?) Our neighbors had a bunch of friends over towatch a game, and again, unbeknowst to us, Little Bit made a sign, taped it to the mailbox, and set up shop in the driveway.  I figured out pretty quickly what she was doing and put a stop to it, but not before she had sold 2 potholders for $5 to a "grandparent type" visiting our neighbor.  Five bucks!!

Fast forward to Friday afterschool.  The kids are out playing, enjoying the sunshine and warmth after a long winter. Tot comes in with chocolate around his mouth (a fairly standard look for him), but I didn't make much of it until he mentioned that he needed more quarters.  Low and behold, Little Bit is out in the garage with her Easy Bake Oven making brownies, and selling them to the neighbor kids and her brother for .25 a piece!  I didn't make her stop-I figured if they are dumb enough to pay .25 cents for a nasty old Easy Bake brownie, then so be it.

What does she do with the money? Well, I'm proud to say that she is a very careful shopper.  She can spend over an hour in the toy aisle of Target, trying to decide whether to buy Magic Beans and a couple of packs of Pokemon cards, or a Webkinz, or to save her money.  She compares prices, and agonizes over these decisions forever.  (Unless she's spending our money...)

I was going to go into how she used to convince her little brother to trade her his paper money for her pennies and nickles (he's since wisened up), and how every year she cons him out of the best of his Trick or Treat candy (he happily goes along with it to please her), but this post is long enough already.  She says that she's going to be a teacher during the week, a vet on weekends, and a movie star whenever she has extra time, but we think she's going to be a CEO of a big company or a lawyer.  At least we know she can support us when we get old, although she'll probably put us in the "bargain" home....

Tuesday's Tip

Today's tip-when your kids are home on a snow day, and are wreaking havoc indoors, don't assume that they will stop wreaking havoc when you send them outside to play.  Ask me how I know. Go on-ask me! On second thought, don't worry about asking me, because I'm going to tell you anyhow.
I sent the kids back outside this afternoon, because they were driving me insanehad lots of energy to burn off.  They played in the snow for about 45 minutes, and came back in.  I didn't suspect a thing until my son (guilty conscience perhaps?) mentions something about an ice rink in the garage. "A what in the WHAT?", I say.  "Oh, uh, never mind.  I don't want to tell you", my son replies nervously.  "No," I said, "tell me about this ice rink."  "What did you guys do?!"

Apparently, they thought it would be fun to sweep a bunch of snow onto the garage floor and smear it around until it melted in the hopes of having an ice skating rink. Lovely.  We are going to have below zero temperatures tonight, and below freezing weather for the next several days, so we are, in fact, the proud owners of an indoor ice skating rink.  Anyone who tries to enter or exit the garage will surely fall and crack his or her head open on the ice.  I guess I won't need to worry about the kids accidentally leaving the garage door open-it's now equipped with it's own burglar booby trap.

Anatomy of a Snow Day

If I were a good Mommy-Blogger, I'd have about 3 dozen softly lit pictures of my rosy cheeked little darlings grinning ear to ear as they happily frollick in the snow, but, instead, you'll have to read my play-by-play of our snow day.


7:00 am: My alarm goes off.  It makes it's annoying beeping noise several times before my dreaming, sleep soaked mind sorts out what that annoying sound actually is.  Remembering the storm forecasted to hit in the wee hours of the morning, I grab the remote and turn on the tv, hoping at least for a 2 hour delay so I can get a couple more hours of sleep.  My hopes rise as I see the huge number of closings at the bottom of the tv screen, and finally, after about 10 minutes, I find the district name I'm looking for.  School is closed! YES!
7:11 am: I realize that this means that on some lovely spring day that we would normally be sleeping in, I will be dragging myself and the kids out of bed to go to school.  Oh, well, this is now, that is then.  I grab my cellphone from my purse by the bed, and text my boss to let her know that I cannot come in to work since the kids will be here all day.  I watch a few more minutes of the storm coverage on the tv, and then turn it off, and burrow happily back into my quilts.  Have I ever mentioned that sleeping in is my favorite thing to do?
7:30 am: I get up, and go downstairs to put the bag of candy I left out in the very top of the pantry.  I head back to bed.
10:30 am:  I'm awakened by the doorbell ringing.  Ok, I've actually been awakened by several things by this point-since I have kids at home, I'm trained to keep an ear open in my sleep.  I've already said "No! Do not blow up anymore balloons with the air mattress pump!" and "Stop arguing so loudly and go watch tv", or something to that effect.  Anyhow, back to being awakened by the doorbell.  The kids know they are not allowed to open the door unless it's a neighbor we know well, or my parents, but anyhow, I drag my sleepy self out of bed as I hear my son telling a neighbor kid "We can't play yet, our Mom is still in bed."  Great-now the whole neighborhood knows what a lazy person I am.
10:30 am continued:  I come downstairs, and put away the candy bag that has "miraculously" reappeared from the pantry.  From the bowl of soggy cereal and granola bar wrappers on the kitchen table, I see that the kids have gotten their own breakfast, with candy for dessert, of course.
11:00am: By this time, I've supervised the outfitting of my giddy children in their snowpants, boots, coats, gloves and hats, and I've sent them outside where three or four of the neighbor kids are waiting on them.
11:15:am: I head outside, and start shoveling snow off the walkway and driveway.  Usually this is a job I leave to my husband, but a girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.  It goes pretty well, but I'm sweating and out of breath in no time.  Maybe I've worked off some of the Bottlecaps and Nerds that I shoved down my gullet last night..
11:30 am: As I'm shoveling, I think about how this reminds me of a summer day-kids laughing and yelling, our goofy dog-like cat following the children around, dogs barking, the sound of snow shovels scrapping pavement....oh wait.....scratch that last one..... Life is good!
12:30 pm: I call the reluctant, wet children inside.  We peel off all of the snow covered layers, and I throw all of the wet, snowy outer clothing into the dryer.  The cat, happy that the kids are back inside, stretches himself out in front of the space heater, warming up his snow soaked belly fur.  We eat a nice warm lunch, and I happily settle on the couch to hear the newscasters on tv freaking out about the snowy roads, warning about round two to come later tonight. Ahhhh.  Maybe we can get another day off out of this...
1:00 pm:  I realize that shoveling the now made me ravenously hungry, and eat a couple of cheese enchiladas.  My second lunch of the day.  So much for the calorie burn....
1:30 pm:  I'm starting to get a little stir crazy.  Sure, I could go clean out my closet, or clean the master bathroom, but I'm not that bored yet.  The kids, getting tired of being together all day, are complaining about having nothing to do.
2:00 pm: The monkeys are now playing Mario Kart on Wii and are arguing and nitpicking at each other about everything.  Again.   I look at the clock and think about how they normally would be at school right now, and how the house would be nice and quiet. (Of course, I would be at work right  now normally, but I forget about that small detail.) I threaten to drive them to school where they can sit and wait outside the entrance for school to open in the morning.  They ignore me, of course.
2:30 pm: Bored and lonely for some adult companionship, I get on Facebook.  Facebook has changed it's format. Again.  My live feed is no longer live.  The Recent News isn't giving me all of my feeds-unless it's really true that not a soul has posted anything in 2 hours.  Grrrrr.  I wish they'd leave it alone.  During this time I've also told my daughter to get out of the candy (I thought I put that away again?), and told my son repeatedly to get the Fritos and apple juice out of the living room.
3:00 pm: The children are debating the merits of Wii games-specifically anything my son wants to play vs the High School musical game my daughter wants to play.  I make my son put the Fritos away away for the final time.  Whining ensues.  My son loads his Nerf gun as he makes fun of the lyrics on the HSM game, my daughter, absorbed in the game, doesn't tke the bait for once.  I sit here at the computer, looking out the window, at the still, gray sky.  More snow, and blowing and drifting overnight is forecast.  I'm not sure I can do another day of this tomorrow....although a two hour delay wouldn't be so bad...  I guess I'll go clean the bathroom now.