Enough is Enough

I am all about some snow. I'm one of these people that gets almost giddy inside at the thought of a snow day. When James Spann starts talking about the possibility, I put up a wall around my fragile heart so that I can protect myself from the inevitable disappointment headed my way. Let's face it. Winter weather events in Alabama usually don't live up to their billing. However, the last few weeks have definitely handed us more of the white stuff than we usually see.

The perfect snow at Christmas was just unbelievable. I didn't even watch the forecast leading up to it, because the disappointment of promised snow not showing up on Christmas would have been too much for me to bear. But it DID show up, and a White Christmas we had! I certainly didn't expect that, just after the kids started back to school, I'd be sitting here looking at Day 4 of Winter Storm 2011. Forget the fluffy stuff of Christmas Day. We're sitting in the middle of an ice skating rink. And I'm ready to hang up the ice skates and get outta here!

I truly wish I could tell you that I am one of these precious mothers who is smiling ear to ear and enjoying every sweet moment of being snowed in with my four little angels and my sweet husband. And I have enjoyed many moments over the past several days. But enough is enough. This house is getting smaller by the minute and there doesn't seem to be any escape. I'm pretty sure I heard the echo of a collective scream coming from the general vicinity of Trussville when the email went out. Snow Day #3. You know I love my kids, right?

The last several days have not been without some significant events around here. I can't believe I'm about to say this, but Luke has been teeteeing in the potty and wearing underwear!! I figured that, as long as we were going to be stuck at home (and Daddy would be around to share in this magnificent experience), we should get serious about this potty training thing. Yesterday was the first time Luke had ever made a deposit in the old porcelain throne, and today I sit here the mother of a two-year-old who has put plenty of urine in the potty! We won't mention the other places he has put urine over the past few days. Just be careful where you sit next time you come for a visit.

I will also take a moment to brag on my husband. No, he hasn't been pottying like a champ. Well, okay, he has, but that's not too impressive considering he's in his mid-30's. He fixed the automatic door on my old, dented minivan so I don't feel like a total redneck whenever we go out and have to go through a 15-step process to unload everyone from the van. And he did it for the price of the part instead of paying five times as much at the mechanic. How's that for a Handy Manny?

I've been working on a spiritually deep and insightful post, which I know you all are looking forward to. (Does anyone actually read those?) But, whenever I'm on the brink of bringing it all together, I find myself being summoned to sit in the bathroom staring at a wee-wee for 15 minutes, pour the 17th cup of juice for the day, let the baby "drink from my tummy," or break up a near fist fight between two little boys who will go unnamed. (It ain't Sam.) So, just as soon as I find 15 minutes to string a few thoughts together, maybe God will poof the final product into my head. 'Cause anything worth writing will come from Him anyway.

One last tidbit of info, for all of you wondering: Sam is currently in his crib in the room with the two other Bond Boys for the first time. And, as I'm typing this, there are multiple boys crying in said room. Can it already be disaster after 45 minutes? Sigh.