So... this past Thursday, we were supposed to get hit with a pretty sizable snowstorm... between 5-8 inches, beginning late morning and continuing through to the evening. It was on the news for days beforehand, it was all over the internet, the weather alert kept beeping on the computer, and kids (and teachers!) everywhere were crossing their fingers (and toes) for a snow day.
Well, it didn't happen... really. School went on as normal... until about 12:45. That's when our principal came in from outside and realized just how awful the roads were. She immediately decided to do an "all call," close school early, and send everyone home. Fine by me! My amazing boss knows how "freakish" I get driving in crappy weather, and knew I had a 20 mile commute back home to pick up my kids, so she sent me home immediately. I finished up a few last minute things (Thursdays are my "Fridays" and I needed to pack up some things to work on over the weekend), brushed off my car, and headed home. The roads weren't terrible... my normal 25-30 minute commute took me just about an hour. Really, for WI winters, this wasn't horrible. Yet.
I picked up the 2 littles, and headed over to Maggie's school to pick her up. By now, it was snowing pretty hard, and it kind of broke my heart to see my little kindergartener with her owl hat standing in this snowstorm waiting for me to get through the pick-up line so she could get in the car. But, I digress..... Maggie got in the car, buckled in, pulled off her hat, and said "Mom, my head is so hot." I glanced in the rear view mirror, and noticed how ghostly white she was.... immediately after standing in the cold and snow... Shouldn't her cheeks be pink? I said, "Maggie, do you feel OK?" She said, "My head is just so hot... and my tummy kind of hurts." I told her to take her hat off, and if she felt sick, to throw up into her hat. She looked at me kind of cross-eyed, but I the thought of a puke-filled hat was WAAAAAY more appealing than cleaning vomit out of the backseat of our minivan in the middle of a snowstorm... right?
Fast forward 2 minutes or so. We are almost home. This is also where i tell you that we are the second house from the corner. When it snows, the plows come around the corner, and we get all the snow from our street, plus the street before, pushed into the end of our driveway. Shit. There is seriously a good foot of snow in the end of our driveway, and I am not sure I can get through it. I can't very well pull over and get the kids out... and God forbid the plow comes through while I'm unbuckling them all from their seats... (oh, and Thursday is "Gramma" day, which meant both Lucy and Hattie were still in their pajamas... not really dressed to climb through the snowbanks and into the house.... ) So, I stop the van in the street 2 houses down. I hit the gas, hard, and PLOW through the snow. I kind of lose control (briefly) and end up all jaggedy in the driveway. I try to straighten up, and realize I am totally stuck. My wheels are spinning, and I am going absolutely nowhere. But... I don't care. I'm in the driveway and can get the kids inside. I'll worry about the car later. So.... I get everyone inside. Lay Hattie down (because even if she's not sleepy, at least she'll be contained in her crib). Take Maggie's temperature (102.3- super!). Get her some Tylenol. Set the big girls up with a movie. Throw on some boots, and head outside. This will also be a good time to mention that I have (purposely) never learned how to operate our snowblower. It really is a perfect excuse not to ever have to do it. I knew, however, that Dan's Kia Rio would NEVER make it through that pile at the bottom of the driveway, and headed out to clean it out the best I could. It took about 5 minutes before our neighbor across the street took pity on me and came over and snowblowed me out... in less than 10 minutes. Thank GOD. I pulled my wonky-parked van in the driveway and went inside to take a shower.
I know, I know.... so far, who cares? Everyone had to deal with the snow...... Wait... it gets better....
When I got out of the shower, I heard Hattie awake. I went in and picked her up, took her downstairs, and sat with her while she had a bottle. She was diagnosed with croup the day before, and hadn't eaten much since Tuesday evening. When she finished the bottle, we snuggled for a bit before she started coughing. Then, there was that telltale "gurgle" AND up came the entire 8 oz bottle.... all over her and me. It came up in 3 separate little vomit bursts, so I had plenty of time to turn her towards me, wrap my sweater around us, and have her throw up into my tank top and sweater instead of all over the carpet. Quick thinking, huh? Off to give her a bath, and my THIRD shower of the day (second within a half hour....) I threw all the dirty laundry into a basket in the bathroom, with plans to toss it in the wash once I got everyone settled.
In the meantime, Dan was headed home from work. He left the office early (about 3pm) and it normally takes him about an hour and 15 minutes to get home. About 5 pm he called to tell me the the highway was deemed "impassable" and was closed, and he was looking for an alternate route home. Super fun. Neither Maggie or Hattie were feeling up for dinner, so I promised Lucy that her and I could have a bowl of cereal when she got hungry. We put on "Brave," and got cozy... Mags was snuggled up on the couch, Hattie was snoozing on and off on my chest, and Lucy was bouncing around, saying "Mom! Your eyes are closing and your are supposed to be watching this movie!" About 6:30, Maggie was sleeping on the couch, Hattie was sleeping on me, and Lucy was... STARVING. From talking to Dan, I knew he was fairly close to finally getting home (are you doing the math? We're at 3.5 hours here....) so I tried my hardest to just keep putting Lucy off. (Warning: terrible mother alert) I did NOT want to get out of the recliner with a snuggly, sleeping, sick baby on me to pour this child a bowl of cereal. I really, really didn't. I figured with a little distraction, I could put her off until Dan got home.... which, hopefully, would be very, very soon.
About five minutes to seven, Dan was still not home, the movie was coming to an end, and all of a sudden... THERE. WAS. NO. POWER. Lucy started fretting (very loudly) about me "turning the TV off and not letting her watch the end of 'Brave.'" I hopped up to find my cell phone, so I could call Dan and let him know he wasn't going to get the garage door open. Hattie started screaming because I had to wake her up to set her down in a very dark house. Maggie woke up from all the commotion.
It was dark. There was a pissed-off 3 year old yelling. An angry 11-month old crying, and a sick and confused 5-year old wandering around wondering why all the lights were off. I had no idea where my damn cell phone was. If you know me at all... this is not a surprise. 98% of the time, it is dead and buried at the bottom of the diaper bag. I am not a cell phone fan. I knew, however, that it was charged- I made sure to do that Wednesday night if I was forced to be out driving in less-than-perfect weather. The trick now was to find the darn thing. Then... I heard it. It was ringing... muffled somewhere. I followed the sound... until I crashed and fell over the babygate that was still up in the front hall. That hurt- a lot. Thank goodness I didn't still have the baby in my arms. In the meantime, I saw a dark figure through the glass on the front door - and I really, really started to have a minor (OK, major... ) panic attack. I was stranded in my house with my 3 kids (2 of who were sick... ) ... alone... in the middle of a snowstorm.... and someone just cut our power before they broke into our house and killed us all.... and my husband was a few minutes from coming home. Crap.
Never mind- it was just Dan. He was driving down the street when he saw 2 huge flashes of light, then all the streetlights and houses went dark. He figured we had no power and was calling my cell phone so I could meet him at the front door to let him in. Whew. Close call.
So, Dan gets in the house. We quickly brainstorm a game plan. I call my parents to see if they have power and ask if we could possibly crash there for the night.
No power + no heat + 2 sick kids = ABSOLUTELY NOT
Dan gathers up some flashlights and we head upstairs to throw some things into a bag. About halfway up the stairs, Maggie says "My tummy really hurts." Dan picks her up, runs (as quickly as he can carrying a five year old up the stairs in the dark) and gets to the bathroom just in time- the poor girl started throwing up like there was no tomorrow. I get her set up with a flashlight, go put Lucy and Hattie in the big girls' room with another flashlight and some toys so I can shut the door and know Hattie is nowhere near the stairs (remember THAT adventure?) and go back to finish packing. A few minutes later, I hear Dan check on the girls and say "Seriously? Right now?" Apparently, Hattie decided this would be a great time to take a poop. A big, yucky, messy poop. I pretended not to hear what was going on, left Dan to take care of that mess, and finished packing. A few minutes later, guilt took over, and I glanced in on Dan and Hattie. He was busy changing a really gross diaper, wearing a headlamp (where the hell did that come from?) It was the most ridiculous thing- but at this point, ridiculous is exactly what I needed from keeping from losing my mind.
In the end, we got the girls packed up and headed over to Gramma and Papa's for a snowy slumber party. After Dan's 4 hour commute home, the 25 minute drive back to their house was no big deal.
PS: We did stop at "Burger Kingdom" so poor Lucy could finally get something to eat.
PPS: Remember that laundry basket full of barf-filled clothes I left in the bathroom? They did not smell good when we got home on Friday morning.
PPPS: I am OVER Wisconsin winters. Yes, the snow is pretty- but I can admire it through the 4000 pictures everyone posts on Facebook. I am already planning my move down south.
