This is what it looks like out the window into our back yard.
We didn't even go out. Just opened, and clicked.
And we very nearly perished, engulfed by a raging gust of frozen death air.
In lieu of self-inflicted cryogenics, this was simply the best we could do :: picnic table, knee deep.
About the picnic table? I don't know. There's the problem of the over-filled garage. And then there's also problem of our intermittent lack of both planning and general seasonal gusto.
But the real, over-arching problem is, I'm in hour 80ish of not leaving the house.
Let's pause for a moment of silence.
There's been an abundance of reading and crafting.
Building and cleaning.
Singing and griping.
(Love you so much, Kro-Kro!) I may get a bit of credit, too, but don't ask Robert, because he's not "into" food made of actual food.
There's no show here, people.
And if I think on that too long, well, I'll get verklempt.
And he seemed to like it, which means it was his first-ever game.
He thought the surprise candy cards were downright whimsical.
So today, in a courageous attempt to thwart any possibilities of collective, imminent demise, I pulled out all the fun stops.
These so-called "fun stops" included the following: Oatmeal with chocolate chips and peanut butter (set the breakfast bar low, Mamas!), plenty of books and cartoons, a Mexican fiesta in the living room for lunch, complete with Pandora Mariachi music (they weren't impressed. why???) and ice cream sundaes.
It's official :: Art is the ultimate unifier.
They were complimenting each other's work. It was insane.
Sometimes, there were slim stretches of actual silence.
baloney boats for dinner (it had to be done) (another first for Robert!) a new hairdo for Rubes, a few more books for good measure, and the kids' first episode of Diff'rent Strokes. (I daresay they learned more from 30 minutes with the Drummonds than they did from three Little Golden Books.)
See how we rocked this blizzard?!!
Except, they cancelled school again for Wednesday.
I don't understand. I just. I can't.
I'm scheduled to be at the gynecologists office at 10:15 and I'm looking forward to the break.
I keep wondering what it will feel like to breathe unencumbered oxygen for the first time in upwards of 100 hours. I hope I remember how to blow-dry my hair and drive a car.
All I know is, we'll keep trucking.
I hope you're okay with a general lack of depth around here this week. My words have been spent in actual words and my inner introvert is crying out for a little white space to sort important things into tidy mental and emotional piles.
For now, I'll stack towels and brown chicken and wear two pairs of socks simply because it feels like the right thing to do. This gig might not always be easy, but my cooped-up days were ordered, too. And I want to do more than just survive them.
Stay thawed, rad homies.