Yesterday it snowed. Because all of Seattle would come to a polite, but screeching halt with an inch of snow (and because snow in LA is as common as visible signs of aging), after fifteen years on the west coast, I’d never really had to drive in it.
Not so in New York City.
I told a friend that I was going to cancel an appointment I had later in the day and she looked at me as though I had just said, “I’m sorry. I’d open that jar of baby food and feed your starving infant, but I’m afraid to chip a nail.”
Still, while I was prepared to brave the elements, my minivan was not. I piled out of the driveway and immediately got stuck on this hill:
(Do not judge. Yesterday it was covered in snow.)
I’m not sure how, but I got the car back in the garage and walked Sidney to school, which means I carried her after she fell in the snow and soaked her capri pants (again, with the seasonally inappropriate clothing).
The kids wore themselves out playing in the snow after school (that’s right Seattleites: School!) which meant we only had to yell at them for 30 minutes to get them to sleep instead of the usually 90. (When the annoying gratitude people get me to make a list, remind to say bedtimes on snow days.)
Still, I was once again up before the sun. Sid seems to have shifted her DPT to five-something in the morning, because she trotted on in and asked me to watch her do it. I told her that if she’s blessed enough to have a Daily Poop Time, she should have the good sense and decency not to request a bloody audience.
Before I knew it, she and Fi were in our bed, fighting because someone’s feet were touching someone’s leg.
Wars have been fought over less, I’m sure.