Just a little Snow Day story about a mean mom


January 26, 2011

I’ll admit it. I’m a nerd. I love keeping up with the weather. But after the last few weeks of “Oh my gosh, we’re all going to die with THIS storm!” and “No, seriously, THIS ONE is the going to be the big one,” I was tired of being teased.

Wouldn’t you know, the first time this winter a “non-event” ended up shutting down schools, sliding cars and creating some very happy school children. Mine included.

Last night, I had that inkling that we might be in for some accumulation. By the time I went to bed, a Winter Weather Advisory had been issued and what was supposed to be a dusting was upped to one to three inches. That’s when my devious plan began to take shape. Maybe, subconsciously, my frustration with the lack of a good, solid snow storm got the best of me and brought out the worst in me. Call it mean. Call it bad parenting. I prefer to think of it as helping my kids build a thick skin to teasing.

I remember as a child the sweet, sweet feelings of waking up later than usual and realized Mom let me sleep in because they had canceled school. Yeah, no. That’s not what I was thinking about with this plan.

When I got the text from JCPS that school had been canceled, my plan went into action, rather inaction, as I just rolled over and continued to sleep, just knowing that my kids were going to run into the room screaming, “We’re late!!!”  I just pictured my smiling, smug face as I told them the truth and then watched the confusion on their faces transform in utter joy (at least, that’s how I justified the joke).

I wasn’t planning on my husband’s reaction. “Jackie! It’s 7:30!!! What are you going to do about Annie!?” She gets on the bus first. Wait a minute. I didn’t figure him into the plan. Just like the so-called “donut hole” over Louisville that keeps the snow away, something got in the way.

I dragged my heavy arm to my bed stand, picked up my phone and flopped my arm over to him to show him the text, and grunted, “Look.”


“Unghffed.” (Translation: “Yep.”)

I worried that the kids would have heard him. Yep. They did. One second they were sound asleep. The next, Nick was on the computer playing Club Penguin and Shawn was playing the Wii. Honestly, our boys can activate electronics and video games faster than Louisvillians can buy milk, egg and breads the day before an alleged flake has fallen.

Annie, bless her, was still asleep but I think she’s coming down with a cold. Just like the previous snow “storms” this winter, my plan fell apart. They were on to me. Little boogers.

I have always said my kids were born to prove me wrong.