Anatomy of a Snow Day

7:00 am -- My son, QB, pounces into our room to let us know he's UP. Mind you, on a school day I can't drag him out of bed before 7:15, and that's after much prodding and blanket-removal.

7:10 am -- Tooth Fairy crisis. Oops, the fairy forgot to do her thing last night. Said fairy furtively slips a few bucks under QB's pillow. Later, he notes nonchalantly, "When I first got up, my tooth was still there, and then later I found some money and the tooth was gone." "Odd," I concur. "The Tooth Fairy's work ethic is slipping these days."

7:15 am – Despite my requests, QB and the cat play with a noisy toy in the hallway right in front of daughter Mopsy's open door.

7:16 am -- Mopsy's awake.

7:45 am -- Parental bribery begins. One episode of  Phineus and Ferb in exchange for another half hour of sleep. The accept my opening offer. Suckers.

8:15 am -- First sibling fight. Mopsy runs in to tell me QB yelled in her ear while they were playing a video game because she didn't want to be on that level but QB did want to be on that level and something else about a level. I don't really care all that much about the levels.

9:00 am -- Kids run outside to stockpile some ammo for a snowball battle later on. QB asks if I'll come out to help him find that snowball-making toy that he left outside weeks ago and is now fully hidden under the snow. He's a real kidder, that one. (Yes, this would be that same toy that we asked him a dozen times to pick up because he wouldn't be able to find it when it snowed.)

9:30 am -- Crisis in the home office. Husband can't find power cord for computer and needs me to help him! If power cord is really missing, he won't be able to work today! He needs to work today! Ah. Crisis averted. Power cord mistakenly sitting in trash can just inches from where it normally resides.

9:45 am -- First load of laundry. I have an ambitious goal for today: get completely caught up on the wash.  Call me an overachiever.

10 am -- All is mysteriously quiet. Kids still in backyard with neighborhood pals. I sneak downstairs for a workout. Rachel Ray's been booted off the air by Janice Huff who's atwitter with meteorologically-based excitement. (I hear the term "snow bands" for the first of many times today.)

11 am -- Kids end up next door mooching hot chocolate and chicken soup.

11:45 am -- Husband and I debate shoveling strategy: should clear the driveway more than once to stay on top of it or do one big shovel once the snow stops? Decide to deal with it later.

12 noon -- Laundry load #2. I'm really gaining on things now! This pile of dirty clothes -- which has an amazing regenerative capability -- is no match for me.

12:10 -- A pack of kids blows in the garage door just as I sit down to do some work. Within minutes, they find the box of musical instruments, including the three squeaky recorders. Consider banning music in house.

12:30 -- Second fight of the day. Mopsy wants to play vampire with the lights off. The other kids want to play vampire the lights on. Mopsy announces that she will no longer be playing. Other kids seem to be okay with this.

12:49 -- Two kids lightly bite each other. (Fine. You've got me. One of the perps is mine.)

12:45 -- A neighbor calls to say he'll plow our driveway. Yes! That's even better than our two original shoveling strategies.

12:52 – Kids blow out to go to another kid's house. I'm shamefully relieved.

2:00 pm -- They've pre-empted Days of our Lives for endless coverage on people biking through Columbus circle and skiing down CPW. That's wrong on so many levels. Forced to watch A Baby Story.

3:15 pm -- Mopsy's decided she's ready for a movie break and picks a classic in which Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen are sent to live in Australia in the witness protection program. I cook up some popcorn and join her on the couch, which is looking mighty inviting. Astonishingly, the movie fails to hold my attention and I find myself taking a catnap.

5:00 pm -- Mopsy and some neighborhood kids haven't had enough of the snow yet. They hang over a spilt rail fence, their boots in the air, heads down in the snow drifts. This is fun, apparently. Other moms and I discuss storm. This is a blizzard? It looks like 7 inches, maybe.

5:20 pm -- Discover that the new Chinese takeout place is open. Very good news as dinner might otherwise consist of Panda Puffs cereal.

6:15 pm -- Janice Huff says we might be getting another 4 to 6 inches of snow tonight. Hunh. Okay, then.

7:45 pm -- QB realizes he has unfinished homework due tomorrow. He didn't finish it on Tuesday knowing he'd have all day today. But as it turns out, he spent his today sledding and building snow-forts instead of his spelling workbook.

8:30 pm -- Bedtime, finally. The kids have played and sledded and snow-angel-ed themselves into exhaustion. Thank you snow, but you're still not a blizzard in my book.

11:00 pm -- Janice Huff is still on the air live for NBC! Go to bed, Janice. And that's exactly where I head myself. Right after I fold my final load of laundry.  

Michelle Bowers is a Sunday columnist for Westport Patch. You can also read more about her on her blog www.momonthefrontlines.blogspot.com.