In Michigan, it took a blizzard of epic proportions to keep kids out of school.  I clearly remember my dad fishtailing his way up the giant hill to Junior High cheerfully blasting NPR and giving me a hearty “Have a great day, Sweetheart!” at the top of his lungs while I considered the repercussions of flipping him, and the school system, the bird. 

When we did have snowstorms of epic proportions, school would be canceled one or two days at the max.  If we got the second day, I can still recall the pure joy burning through my veins - TWO DAYS in a ROW!!!  Later, when I could drive, my diesel Rabbit would be unplugged from the power source that enabled it to start on cold days and my friends would pile in.  Donuts in the high school parking lot (the kind that don’t make you fat), specifically looking for icy roads so we could spin out - it’s no wonder I still remember how to drive in terrible conditions.  Is it possible my parents actually let me drive in that stuff?  They were probably so fed up with me, they would have let me drive the Rabbit across West Bay just to get me out of their hair.  The ice was so thick I could have anyway.  Not that I ever tried it. 

It is true that every 4th vehicle in my hometown of Traverse City, Michigan was either a snowplow, sand truck or a very large 4 x 4 truck with two pieces of triangular metal welded to the front - the makeshift redneck snowplow.  Therefore, it was rare that that the buses couldn’t get anywhere on the days it snowed very hard.  The entire population of hearty corn-fed Michiganders banded together in an ice-fueled festival of “CLEAR THE ROADS!” and got out there, shoveling, snowblowing, welding metal to their cars, and making sure their precious kiddies never missed a day of edu-macation.  I’m sure I’m making this up but I wouldn’t be surprised if Grand Traverse County voted unanimously to outfit all school buses with chains during the winter months of September through May. 

I’m not going to launch into a tirade about Virginia, or Henrico County, or the lack of snowplows and budgets.  It’s rare we get snow like this so okay, I get it, but that doesn’t help the insanity that sets in.  I have to ask:  why is it that the first time in nearly a year, I have a paid contract job and my kids are suddenly home, crazy from cabin fever, and crawling all over me like ants on syrup?  I get that every single solitary freakin’ back road in the entire county has to be cleared before the buses can run because if a single child can’t be bussed in to school, then dammit, no kids will suffer the misery of education! 

I think even the kids are starting to miss school.  And that’s saying a lot. 

Last week was “my” week with the kids.  No school Monday through Wednesday.  Lily went half day on Thursday; anytime there is a half-day Arden’s preschool is cancelled.  Based on the threat of bad weather, schools closed again on Friday.  Yep.  The threat.  Not only does forecasting bad weather send everyone streaming into stores for milk and bread (and according to Nicole and Dan, Rainbow Cookies from Ukrops), it sends the schools into a frenzy of OMG OMG OMG we need to preemptively close schools. 

I know.  Safety first.  But can we mix in a healthy dose of reality?  The rest of the Virginia universe drove around, to work and to Ukrops for more Rainbow Cookies - all week long.  Most were miserable and stressed out, going either 104 mph in their Suburbans and Lexus SUVs.  The rest drove 3 mph and randomly stopped in the middle of the roads.  Oh and by the way?  Did you know that snowplows don’t have to follow basic traffic rules, like stopping for red lights?  Yeah, we were almost creamed by one yesterday.  I even saw a snowplow in a ditch in the middle of 64 over the weekend - that had to be embarrassing. 

We had another wicked snowstorm this weekend.  I’d venture a guess and say it was worse than the one we had last weekend.  If my calculations are correct, this will mean the kids will be out of school for the next week entirely.  And there may be some freezing rain mid-week, the threat of which may cause them to cancel school for a third week in a row.  Did I mention the paid contract due at the end of this month?  Did I mention the ants in syrup reference previously? 

Yesterday the fighting and nitpicking reached a fever pitch.  I clearly recall saying, “I’m going to lock you both in a dark room with soundproofing and feed you through a slot in the door if you don’t knock it off.”  I also lost it entirely when Arden was screaming and crying because she was “cold”.  She was “cold” because I’d let her use my bathtub as a pool and she’d stayed in for nearly 90 minutes.  Why would Arden be cold?  She was running around the house buck naked refusing a towel and screaming at me that she was cold.  It was refusal of towels that caused a psychotic break in me.  We both survived the cold incident, but just barely. 

I have meetings this week that will be canceled.  I’ve already abused my regular babysitter with favors; time to start hitting up the neighbors or just standing on the side of the road with a billboard advertising Two Sometimes Well Behaved Children In Need of Entertainment. 

To those parents like me - hanging onto their sanity by their fingernails - I salute you.  And I actually feel a tiny bit of guilt for the joy I felt when schools closed.  My poor mother.  If it makes you feel any better, mom, I’m paying it back in spades now. 

It’s true I have a love/hate relationship with Richmond.  Today, though, I’m a little in love with where we live, with all the quirks, bad driving and random snowfall. 

Two links I’ve found in recent days:  the first a Flickr collection of Richmond snow photos.  You can view anyone in Richmond who took pics of the snow and tagged them into this group here.  Cool stuff!

The second is a fairly new local restaurant review guide.  It’s FoodAroundRichmond.com.  They twitter, too.  I love hearing their views on where to dine - and where to skip. 

Show some local love!

Today we are getting our first “snowstorm” in ages.  Seriously I can’t remember the last time we had actual SNOW accumulation (though most Virginians call any snow sighting a “storm” and bumrush Ukrops for bread and milk, two random items I wouldn’t necessarily choose if stranded for weeks on end).  “Snow” around here usually makes me laugh.  Tangentially, Virginia drivers see snow and either drive 5 mph, or stop in the middle of a highway if it gets too scary, or decide that since they have a big Suburban (4WD, y’all!), they can drive 80 mph over the Willey Bridge. 

Apparently, 10 years of living amongst the snowstorm=bread and milk crowd is enough to indoctrinate me into the way a true Southerner greets the fluffy white stuff.  As soon as the national weather outlets began reporting the likelihood of snow, I immediately started planning for school closings and snow forts.  When it actually DID start snowing, I was . . . wait for it . . . EXCITED.  Me.  The girl from Traverse City, Michigan - excited over snow.  I’ve been away from it long enough where snow is a novelty once again, and the idea of PLAYING in it actually sounds appealing.  YAY ME! 

I was nearly as excited as the girls.  We couldn’t wait to don our snow gear and frolic in the clumpy cold wetness.  We stayed up late until our neighbors came out, and we all acted like idiots in the yard.  Our neighbors are from Wisconsin and Pennsylvania, so they have an appreciation (and loathing) for snow.  Since it only happens once every 5 years or so, we can let go of the hate and vitriol we once all contained inside ourselves for the crystal water, and act like crazy people by lobbing snowballs at each other’s heads.  It’s all good.

It feels good to call this crazy place home now.  It’s hilarious to me that the person who used to drive regularly in 4 feet of snow is suddenly excited about 1 foot of snow.  It’s even funnier that I am AFRAID to drive in the snow (though I admit that most of my fear stems from everyone around me on the road never having heard of “pump your brakes”). 

Mike is staying home until the roads clear, so we will continue the Cold Miser festivities by making snowmen and angels tomorrow morning.  Thankfully I have bread AND milk, so we should survive.

Ahhhh.  A nice romantic Valentine’s Day. A crazy day at work where we practiced our “Just say no skills” (more on that later), a rushed drive on Virginia roads to get to preschool to pick up the girls, and my parents, for dinner; the aforementioned dinner complete with meltdowns and bad behavior from BOTH children; the mother, with no patience to spare for anyone or anything, and the father, who says things like “WHY do we do this again?  Is THIS supposed to be FUN???”  Nothing says good lovin’ like a night out with two wild children, your parents, bad chain restaurant food and a ton of family drama on top of it all. 

I did get a fabulous email from Mike with his top 10 list of reasons he loves me.  Most of them were true, at least. 

Speaking of Virginia roads, I have to risk the wrath of Virginians by pointing out that many of them just do not know how to drive.  Or at least, when I learned to drive, I was taught that the left lane was for passing.  In Virginia, the left lane is merely another lane, where people chat on their cell phone, go under the speed limit, or just weave in and out of the lane without using turn indicators. 

Forgive me, I’m a little cranky.

This week has not been stellar.  I was on a high a couple of days ago as Jennifer and I practiced saying no to the client I mentioned earlier, and then actually delivered the news to that client that we would no longer be working with them. Trouble is, they didn’t listen.  One of the things that disarms me the most is begging, or those people who just pretend they didn’t hear you and keep right on asking.  We are now going on Round 4 of saying no.  It will come in the form of an email, and I’m sure there will be some upset email back in Round 5 telling us how stupid and short sighted we are.  One thing I’ve learned (out of maybe 2 or 3 things total) is that going with my gut is the only way to go.  Every time I ignore my gut, I regret it mightily.  So, ding!  Round 5 begins. 

I can’t get into details about the other stuff that has happened because my parents asked me not to and so did my husband.  The fact that he’s a lawyer means that sometimes I have to keep my mouth shut about things, even though I like to pretend that I can lay it all on the line in my blog.  I really can’t.  I can say that a major family skeleton is not only out of the closet - that skeleton is marching around Richmond proper announcing itself to anyone who will listen.  It’s very traumatic for all of us right now and I don’t know how to deal with it.  I’m a strange and sickening combination of extremely angry, extremely upset, and extremely confused.  The situation has also given me a sort of F-You attitude towards everything, I think primarily because I have no room left in my brain to process other issues or problems.  I told Jennifer today that normally when I am stressed like this, I get very withdrawn and cold and bitchy.  Not so during Family Drama Extravaganza 2007!  I’m so beyond “stress” that I’m actually slap-happy. 

So, I’ve been silent.  As I’ve said before, I don’t really care for blogging when I can’t be open about what’s happening.  That’s pretty much how I am in life as well. It doesn’t help that I’ve had raging PMS and have been eating like a pig for a week either.  If someone tells me that I can’t “stuff” my emotions with food, I’m going to hit them with a chocolate croissant.  I get blog-stipation when I can’t be honest here - I get all crampy and angry and feel like I’m going to explode.  That’s why silence for me is deadly.  Apparently I just need the equivalent of a literary Ex-Lax.

We’ve spent the better part of the weekend moving crap from our garage to the new house’s garage, sweating, cursing, bleeding, and making what I’m sure is a fabulous impression on the new neighbors.  Mike and Dad started scraping the balloon wallpaper in Arden’s room - it didn’t go as well as they had hoped.  Mike took a break to help me unload the truck (Steve loaned us his - thanks, bro), and stabbed his finger on an exacto blade that was hanging out in the truck bed for some reason. While Mike gushed blood, Mom drove to the closest drugstore for bandages.  The girls were all fired up in their new space, having competions to see who could make the louder noise in a house with wood floors and no furniture. 

The first words our neighbors to the right of us heard us say were probably “Lily, STOP SPITTING RIGHT NOW! THAT’S DISGUSTING!”  She was spraying spittle all over the new outdoor rug and running around with mashed potatoes smeared all over her face.  Arden was even worse - she had her fingers in everyone’s mashed potatoes and had some in her hair, ear, and all over her face.  It was like an orgy of food.  Meanwhile, the Southern Living Garden Magazine Centerfold that lives next to us probably thought it was time to put their house on the market.  We are loud, dirty, and I know that Mike and I were smelly from a day in 100% humidity and moving.  Plus, I think the last time Mike saw the inside of the shower was Friday morning.  Ewwww. 

Speaking of humidity, what the hell is up with Virginia?  Is it really necessary for any place to be this hot?  How can the temperature gauge tell me it’s only 80, yet 5 minutes outside liquifies me?  I’m not really a sweaty person by nature (oh, sorry mom - I mean, I don’t normally PERSPIRE . . .ladies don’t sweat, we PERSPIRE), but Virginia sucks all water from my body within seconds during the summer.  I hate summer here.  I really do.  I nearly really made a nuisance (and an ass) of myself by jumping uninvited into the neighbor’s perfect pool today, fully clothed and very sweaty.

Posts will be sporadic until the Comcast people deign to grace me with their presence and hook us up.  I’m also really tired and looking forward to drooling on myself as I watch Seinfeld and pass out in bed.