What day is it? I asked myself that question more than once today. Sadly, I realized it's only Wednesday and that means many more days until the weekend. Snow days, as I mentioned previously, put a crimp in plans. They also drag a week out to what seems like eternity (or to quote Buzz Lightyear, "to infinity, and beyond"). I am anticipating another snow day tomorrow, as another nasty storm is approaching from the west. And Doug said another weather system is due to arrive Saturday night. YIKES! Winter started in November here for the first time in a very long time. I don't know exactly how much snow we have received, but I know it's a lot. Just ask my checkbook; everytime we have more than a few inches of snow, our plow guy comes and plows our 1300 foot road. Yes, I actually employ a man to plow our road. He does a great job and has created a lovely hill out in the front yard which the kids slide down. But can you believe that I employ someone to maintain my road? It almost seems absurd, really. Why doesn't the town maintain my road, you may ask? Ah, that is because we live on a private road, one that we own and have to maintain ourselves. We have a neighbor now, and he shares in the cost of maintaining the road (which hasn't been a chore yet, but who knows how things will go over the years). So, all that snow and plowing and school being canceled can really drag a girl down.
My husband does know that I am keeping this blog. He asked me recently why I didn't sit down and write a novel or something. I'm chicken, mostly, and don't think I have many good ideas. But a blog, well that's another (or whole nother as so many people here in Maine are fond of saying) beast that I can work with. I only talk with children all day long, and there are many nights when Doug is busy working after the kids go to bed, so then I talk to no one. This is the perfect outlet. I can write, he can read it, and he'll know exactly what's going on in my mind. Ok, that sounds a bit sad doesn't it? It isn't really how things are between us. We actually talk quite often. We talk about silly things and important things. But I like the idea of being able to put my thoughts to paper, or shall we say, fingers to the keyboard. A sounding board, for my weird and wacky innermost thoughts. Oh boy.
My house is trashed. I really ought to clean something up. I have absolutely no desire to do any of that. It's only going to get trashed again tomorrow. Drew actually took three-quarters of his toys from the playroom today and carried them, bit by bit, to my kitchen and set up shop there. Cars, trucks, Little People, farm animals, zoo animals, gas station, farm. I could barely walk. He was as happy as could be. Our playroom is upstairs, at the opposite end of the house from where I spend all my time. I think there are days when he wants to be near me. And I am ok with that most of the time. But when he physically removes so many toys from the playroom, I see red. I know for a fact that he will refuse to put them away (and he did of course, refuse) and I will have to threaten, cajole or ignore. Unfortunatly, I cannot ignore that many toys. What's a mom to do? I've actually gathered up all the toys in garbage bags before and put them in the garage when he won't clean them up. Sometimes they stay out there for weeks. How sad that my kids have so many toys that they don't miss bags worth of toys?!
I guess I will go gather up the baby toys in the living room and make neat piles for them to tear apart tomorrow.