momlogic's Vivian: When I was a kid growing up in suburban Boston, snow days were welcome reprieves met with enthused applause. We'd spend hours upon hours outside -- left to our own devices, nosediving into endless mounds of snow -- without our moms lurking in the shadows. When we were finally good and soaked, we'd return to the warm shelter of home, complete with hot bath, cookies and hot cocoa, all soundtracked to the theme from "Days Of Our Lives."
Sounds somewhat Rockwellian, doesn't it? My mom was a SAHM, and even though we were seriously cramping her style with our presence, she now admits she didn't totally mind us underfoot on snow days. But me, with my own snowed-in kids? I don't want to mind, but I do.
Now before you all go calling me a grump, consider my situation: As a work-at-home mom, I find it a complete necessity to farm out my children for good chunks of time in order to get my work done. I mean, it would be one thing if I could spend the day tubing/baking/watching TV/playing Wii with my critters, but I got shizz to do and need peace and quiet to get it done. Take a deadline, add a major snowstorm and a couple of housebound kids who are all up in your grill, and what do you get? The ninth circle of HELL.
Consider this week's NYC snow dump, for example. The second I heard about my son's impending day off, I told The Hub he simply had to bring his laptop home. This helped our combined effort to entertain our kids while we worked at home -- but only moderately.
The Hub spent the morning sequestered in our tiny bedroom on a three-hour conference call, while I did my damndest to confine the troops to the remaining 600 square feet of our home, circumventing any tomfoolery that would make my husband sound completely unprofessional to the people on the other end of the line. When the call was finished, my husband took over and it was my turn to get down to business of the paycheck-bringing variety.
Ten minutes later, I mistakenly left the door open a crack after a bathroom visit, and my son saw this as a beckoning window to jump through.
"Mom, have you seen my blue Dragonoid Bakugan?" he asked. In the background I could hear The Hub yell, "Leave your mom alone!" The kid pouted and slammed the door -- but not before yelling "FINE!" at me.
Twenty minutes later, I heard my 2-year-old daughter fall after attempting a flying leap for the doorhandle to the room in which I was holed up.
"But I want mommy," she started, before escalating into a full-throttle screamfest: "I WANT MOMMY!!!" This went on for half an hour, despite The Hub's valiant attempts to distract her. My brain hurt so bad, I had to gulp an Aleve and crank Lady GaGa in order to keep plugging until I was done.
After assorted distractions like these, I FINALLY got my column out, but DAMN. Can I get an oy-to-the-f#cking-VEY?!
What about you other snowbound WAHMs out there? Any tales of woe to share?
|Vivian Manning-Schaffel serves as Momlogic's East Coast Editor. She has written for Babble, Parenting, The Advocate, The New York Post, Business Week and a variety of other publications and lives and works in the heart of breeder Brooklyn with her husband and two kids. She authors two pop culture blogs: The Mad Mom and A Hag Supreme, and is on the web at vivianmanningschaffel.com.|