The boys have been bouncing off the walls just on the forecast of snow. Now that it's actually doing it they're fevered.
My ever-strategic mind started grinding when the forecasts started last week. Snow starting Friday? Clear and cold by Monday? Maybe the bulk of it will fall Fri-night, Sat morning, and they'll have the roads clear enough that they don't miss any school.
In the meantime the local television stations have been nearly hysterical talking about how all the snow-plows and sanding crews are "standing by"; giving tips on "staying warm" which includes, "Dress warmly."
It didn't start seriously until early this morning.
The boys are so joyful they can barely contain themselves, jumping around, grabbing me from behind for hugs, plowing into me, hanging on my shoulders. "Aren't you glad it's snowing!!!"
Fortunately they're so happy they don't notice my tepid response. Weak smile and nod. Trying to prepare myself for the worst--school closure. Which they're fervently hoping for.
So we're at cross purposes, my boys and I. And every moment they're broadcasting: "Look at that snow!" "Mom! Look! Snow!" (there's half an inch accumulation but it's coming down)
"There's enough to sled on!" "Let's scrape it up and pour maple syrup on it (like no leaves or mud are stuck to the bottom). "Mom! Mom! Mom!" Each "Mom" jolts me like electricity. And it's over and over and over. "Look at the grass! It doesn't look like much but it's an optical illusion because the hill slopes. There's really lots. Let's have a family snow fight!"
It's the hypocrisy wearing me out. The weak smiles. The trying to not look too dismayed when they say, "Maybe they'll close school!" The trying to hide the computer screen as I write this and he leans over me. "Come on, Mom! Go outside!"
Gary's back now from Asia. Came in yesterday morning. He's cheering on the snow: "We have three quarters of an inch already!" With him gone I've not had to indulge Christmas hypocrisy. He left on the first so we didn't get a tree or put up lights. So here at home I've been able to almost-forget about it, other than the countdown calendar that Scott religiously changes each morning. Gary didn't even take a nap when he got home; put up Christmas lights on our back porch which kept us awake long into the night. The timer was set to go off at 11 and I finally went and unplugged it at 11:10. Today we go and get the Christmas tree.
I just overheard on the radio that chains are required on all highways going through Portland. Hwy 26 is closed while emergency vehicles go to tow out the vehicles obstructing traffic for not being able to make it up the hill.
That's it. I'm sure school's closed tomorrow. Last year they closed it after I'd already seen the middle school bus go by. All day we were bathed in sunlight and watched the cars whiz by on the dry road.
I can't write a coherent thought because every couple minutes the boys have been interrupting me. Now they're outside and Gary's talking to me about airports, going through customs. This is why the notion of school closure tomorrow fills me with such horror. They're going to be off for 2 weeks the week after this next one, for crying out loud. Isn't that enough of a solitude drought?
Oh no, here they come! Sporting wounds from saucering into the blackberry vines. I guess they really could sled on that half-inch of snow, though if I'd been a good mother and monitored what they were up to, I wouldn't have allowed it.
CLOSE THE DOOR! (dammit)