Monday, February 10, 2014
The Snowpocalypse has come and gone. Although we ended up snowed in, there's something about a disruption to your life, no matter the form, that just throws everything out of whack. Maybe it was the kids running in and out of the house. Maybe it was the increase in laundry. Maybe it was the bundling up of X-Man, who desperately wanted to be outside, followed by the unbundling of X-Man because snow is cold. But everyone is outside, so out we must go. But it's freezing!

So, that's how the last four days went. The kids hiked to the grocery store with the father figure. I took them to a coffee shop. We made good use of the snow days, even got more caught up with my grading that I have to do.

We had a few highlights to the days. X-Man discovered that when you throw a blanket over your head and run around the house, eventually you will run into something. Ignoring mom comes with a price. He seemed to think that I set him up the bump (see what I did there?) and was fairly me. I mean I did put the hutch weeks ago. But clearly I am to blame here.

I remembered why I don't cook with hamburger meat. I tend towards ground turkey, but my FIL bought ground beef on sale and gave some to us. So I used it, and had to drain it several times. This, in and of itself, wasn't an issue. It wasn't until I came out of the pantry to X-Man gagging and sputtering that I realized the extra downside to draining the meat. Thankfully, X-Man waited until I disappeared into the pantry before attempting to sample the grease. That wait length allowed it to cool noticeably. Besides, there would be no way that mom would allow X-Man to climb up onto the table, push a chair towards the counter, climb on to the counter and grab the grease. (As a responsible mother, I had kept it away from little hands....or so I thought). He got what he deserved. Although his nice jacket that he was still wearing did not deserve to be covered in a spit and grease mixture. Again, somehow I was to blame for grease tasting like grease does. At least how I assume it tastes, I've never actually drank it before.

I'm fairly sure Bob Costas gave us pink eye. We watched the Olympics and the next morning, Baba and Mac woke up with it. And of course we were thoroughly snowed in at this point. Now, one might think this would be the worst health outbreak of the Snowpocalypse. You would be wrong. X-Man figured he might as well spice things up by vomiting. Starting bright and early in the morning. Yucky stomachs means no food in my world. No food means torture in X-Man's world. He did not handle the deprivation well. I found him huddled in a corner in the kitchen, eating a contraband banana. This would not have been too serious a problem, had he not been so sweetly sharing with Cinco. He'd take a bite, she'd take a bite. I screeched in horror. They were not satisfied with a different banana for Cinco. They were not interested in Cinco having the bottom half of the banana, that was sans X-Man vomitus germs. Nope, alternating bites or scream city. I preferred scream city to the clean up that might have followed.

Later, X-Man stole my coffee, and Cinco followed him in the laundry room where they partook in the stolen delight. I figured that I had left the cup somewhere, and looked over almost the whole house, before discovering them. For the record, the father figure was allegedly watching the babies.  By that time, they had determined that it was more fun to spill the coffee on the floor, splash in it and then try to climb into the washing machine. Because, you know, they were dirty. I was alerted to their presence in the laundry room by, what else, screaming. X-Man and Cinco cannot both fit in the washing machine at one time.

It was an educational few days.

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