Snow Day

When the pastor called me at work yesterday and told me not to come in today because of the impending snow storm, I was escatic. I had visions of snuggling on the couch with a cup of hot cocoa and watching fat flakes drift down and make fluffy piles on my sidewalk. Of taking Tom for a walk in his first major snowfall. Of actually getting some chores done around this mess I call a home.

What I did not envision was being puked on (right on the kisser, no less), then spending the rest of the day shoveling snow in a shirt that smelled like sour breastmilk, mostly because I was too lazy to go upstairs and change.

Somehow, my wonderful snow day where I was going to accomplish so much turned into "make the house look worse than before day." Dunno how that happened.

I also did not plan on being stranded at home, sick, with a sick infant and an insanely rambunctious dog. When the clock blinked 7 p.m. I thought, "Surely Super-Hubby will be home soon! I will get help!" Then the clock turned to 8 p.m. I gave the sick baby a bath. We cuddled. He nursed. We both coughed a lot.

Super-Hubby made it home somewhere around 10 p.m., after spending more than 12 hours putting together his first major A-1 story for the paper. I am very proud of him, and there's no helping the fact that he had to be at work. He's promised to watch Tom all weekend, but we'll see.

I am starting to dread snow days.