This morning, I danced into the kitchen to knead my bread when I saw that it was SNOWING. Huge fluffy flakes. The boys immediately asked to play outside, and I of course obliged! Out they went, Ezra slept, and I kneaded in peace. Thump, thump, thump. It was BEAUTIFUL outside and in. They played happily outside in the white stuff until lunch.
Wait. Did you believe ANY of that? It's like that game, 2 Truths and a Lie, except I told WAY more lies than truths.
It DID snow this morning, I DID need to knead and the boys DID play outside.
And now, the REST of the story.
So, Derek had a meeting on the phone this morning. (The trade-off of a husband who is home most of the time is a husband who works from home most of the time.) So, I figured shuttling the kids outside during the meeting (it was a short one) would be perfect. The snow WAS lovely, Ezra WAS asleep and the boys WANTED to play outside.
It took me ten minutes to dress all three boys appropriately for the weather. It included Ez waking up screaming (a rare thing, really) and Oliver having a melt-down because there was "POOPPOOPPOOP!" on his boot. Indeed there was poop, but who's fault is that? We can either blame the dog, or the child for stepping in it.
Ez was screaming and Oliver was crying and Spencer kept saying, "I'm so chunky!" because of all his layers... it was a wee bit crazed. But I continued, stalwart. I double-mittened Oliver, and made sure all of Henry's particulars were in order, and out they went!
Total time to get them ready for outdoor play: 10 minutes.
Ezra was still SUPER unhappy with me. So I cajoled him into quiet and put him on my bed.
NOW for the kneading! I sunk my hands into the dough, and saw Oliver, standing outside the door, alternately licking dirt off the window (THAT DOG, I SWEAR!) and crying because he'd gotten snow on his double-mittened paws. Oliver HATES winter. Didja know? My little Vegas baby is not a fan of the cold, or the wet. Give him a warm summer day and he's happy. Winter is the DEVIL!
I heard Ezra starting to complain from my room.
My hands were covered in sticky flour.
I slid the door open just inches. "Baby, go play with Henry! YAY! It's SNOWING! It's SO SO SO FUN!"
"NO!!! Snow! Cold!" cried my third-born baby.
I got a wee bit more firm then. "Oliver. Go play." And the door shut with a snap.
Ezra was way-for-so-p-o-ed at me now.
Oliver was STILL licking/crying.
I accessed my situation, and prioritized.
The bread dough is patient. It can wait.
The baby, who is now wailing, can not.
Hands were washed, baby was cuddled, children needed to use the facilities and so ALL came in the house, Derek's meeting ended, children needed new clothes (yes, they went out in their winter gear with their jammies underneath, so what?) and baby needed food.
The total amount of outside play: 11 minutes.
Derek dressed and changed children, I nursed Ezra, and Oliver ate crackers. In my bed.
Total time of undoing outside play: 9 minutes
So, while it was not picturesque, I did laugh quite a bit because really, what ELSE am I gonna do?
Oh, and I did get the bread dough kneaded eventually.