MotherReader

First the poem by Shel Silverstein, then the story.

I made myself a snowball
As perfect as could be.
I thought I’d keep it as a pet
And let it sleep with me.
I made it some pajamas
And a pillow for its head.
Then last night it ran away,
But first — it wet the bed.

Thanks for coming to Poetry Friday. Round-up available at Big A, little a. Interested parties may stay for the story; all others may file out quietly.

My husband woke me up at 6:45 a.m. this morning to ask where he might find the camera to bring on his trip. While a phrase went through my mind as to where he might find the camera, I mumbled a reply and staggered to the kitchen to look for the rechargeable batteries. When he woke me, I was in the middle of a dream where a friend was telling me that I must know that we really weren’t friends and I should get over it. In the dream, I felt like I was punched in the stomach. And then I woke up, and I still felt emotionally jarred from the dream, because it was probably pretty accurate. There’s not a lot of hope for a day in which you’ve been rejected before you even woke up.

In this half-awake, emotionally raw state I said goodbye to my husband, who is going to Seattle for our film’s inclusion in a Sci-Fi short film festival. Then I convinced the girls to snuggle in bed for a few minutes (like twenty) before really starting our morning. We were all disappointed by the lack of snow, which had been predicted for overnight. My oldest told me a near equivalent of the snowball poem above, which did amuse us. Then the girls “phypnotized” each other to change their behaviors — one to stop picking her nose, the other to start eating corn. Too soon, we dragged ourselves out of the warm bed, dressed, ate breakfast, and I drove them to school.

As we approached the school, I realized that no one was walking to school. As we got to the school, we found the parking lot was nearly empty. Is it possible that the start of school was delayed due to light rain? As it turns out, yes it is possible, because this is the suburbs of D.C., where even the threat of sleet or snow is enough to cancel school.

We confirmed our guess on the Internet, and I went back to bed in an attempt to start the day all over again. but the forced sleep didn’t take, so here I am.

At least the groundhog didn’t see his shadow, so maybe spring will come early this year. At this moment, it’s all I can hope for. Unless... I look at the groundhog’s prediction as another sign of global warming, in which case the day is back to totally sucking.