My immigrant husband fled to Canda with our six youngest children yesterday afternoon.
I suppose that isn’t a very politically correct way to talk given our current political climate. I make it a rule never to talk politics on the internet. Mainly because I don’t want to “accidentally” smash my computer to smithereens. Heck, I make it a point not to talk politics with my family because I kind of want to keep them too.
So let me rephrase my first sentence. Chuck took my six youngest kids (who apparently no longer attend school…it’s been canceled for tomorrow already) up to his homeland to visit his parents. I can’t say I did much complaining.
Or any at all.
In addition to taking the kids to Canada, Chuck had the boys practicing with snowshoes…they love winter camping. Don’t ask, I don’t get it at all. And I’m pretty sure that he is the only person who would pair rubber boots with snowshoes.
He’s just that tough and rugged.
Snow in bed? Why not? It’s not like he has to get ready for school or anything.
I love my kids. We homeschooled for 15 years. We had days, weeks when we were never apart. But here’s a little secret: when my kids were homeschooled they were much better at filling their time. Yes, we drove each other crazy. But they were used to our routine: breakfast, chores, learning activities.
Our school schedule is: wake up, eat breakfast, pack lunch, school, snack, chores (<—wishful thinking on my part), dinner, clean up, bedtime.
Days like today (and yesterday…and the day before…and the day before that) stretch out endlessly. By two weeks into our summer vacation, we have settled into our new groove. But right now? We aren’t there yet.
Avi had a friend over the other day and I surmised very quickly that she lives in a house void of snark and sarcasm. Poor girl.
And how, pray tell, did I come to this conclusion? I came to it because she took everything I said at face value. She is probably the only person who I have ever spoken to who’s done that. And she looked utterly horrified when, during the course of a conversation I said, “Because Tucker is my favorite child“.
Her face was positively crestfallen.
When I asked who her mom’s favorite child was, she said, “My mom doesn’t have a favorite“.
At this point, I had mercy on her (as I often do) and let her know I tell all of my children they are my favorite. Because it is true.
I think I made up for it by letting the girls bake (and then consume) coffee cake. They also frolicked in the snow and watched a movie, so I think we’re all good.
And I hope her mom isn’t reading this.
Happy Snow Day to Us!