Raise your hand if you've ever felt like screaming. Running away from home? How about sticking your head in an oven? Suddenly I'm feeling far more empathetic with Sylvia Plath - maybe her kids were home for seven snowy days in a row.
Apparently I am living in a frozen tundra because our district still thinks it is far too treacherous here to have kids at school. Oh wait, people in frozen tundras go to school. Weird. I get that some roads are still a little slushy, maybe slightly icy, but our Honda got us to a diner and back last night with no trouble. Even after a freezing night, I'm confident a 25,000 pound vehicle with chains could safely rumble onto my street and take my children away today. Just for a few hours, that's all I'm asking - a late start would be fine! Just...for...a few...hours.
It's not that I don't love my children, of course I do - they get lots of hugs, kisses, cocoa with little marshmallows, vaccinations. It's not that I can't think of things to do with my children - we have baked, played games, read stories, I even participated in a snowball fight (really more of a skirmish, actually, but still - I was engaged!) It's just that I need some alone time, that's all. Me, alone with my tea & magazines & online trivia. And screeching this to my unsuspecting kids as they gleefully chase each other through the house at ear-bleeding volume is not okay. At least, it hasn't been before. We'll see how today goes.
