Cabin Fever

Ireland is in the middle of its longest cold snap since 1963. The temperature has dipped below freezing, the roads are covered in ice and there seems to be no break in the forecast.

As a former Buffalonian, I'm taking this one in stride. Like others, I've been stranded (blizzard of '85), my flight has been delayed (blizzard of 2001) and I've rolled over on many a morning after hearing Danny Neavereth on the radio announce that my school was closed. I love snow days- but that's for another blog.

Ireland, bless her heart, is not prepared for this. The big rain cloud that usually hovers over the island ran off for cover with the arrival of the Artic Blast. Stories abound of burst pipes and car accidents. I can handle the driving despite the fact that there is no such thing as all season radials.

What I can't handle is cabin fever. And I've got a bad case of it.

The boys were let out of school for Christmas break on Dec. 22nd. They were supposed to go back yesterday, Jan. 7th. Despite the visit by Santa, they're bored and I've become their number 1 playmate. Yesterday, I got a text telling me that school would reopen on Monday the 11th. Ok. Then tonight, Batt O'Keefe, the education minister, announced that all schools would remain closed until next Thurs the 14th.

It was at that point that I collapsed on the couch and stuck a knitting needle into the middle of my forehead. All I know is that there are a lot of days between now and next Thursday. I refuse to count them. I don't think I could handle it.

We've played every game, put together every toy and watched every DVD. They were outside yesterday for 30 minutes but they must have come in about 30 times.
"My gloves are wet."
"I don't want to wear a hat."
"My socks are wet."
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"What are you doing?"
"Can you fill the pail with water?"
"Can I eat the snow?"
"Can I come in? I'm cold."

We play swords. A lot. If I simply walk by Daniel, I get, "Hey, Mommy, you want to play swords?" What can I do? I've copped on and now manage to fight from a sitting position and I leave all the running and jumping to the boys. However, the 2 of them together are lethal and despite the fact that they're made of foam(the swords not the boys), I'm the one who usually ends up getting hurt. Michael swings his sword like a bat and I now have to wear the Snake Eyes helmet for protection. Although I must admit the black helmet with the pink, fluffy bathrobe is kind of snazzy.

I invited a few of their friends over for play dates but that deteriorated during one play date when my boys started fighting with each other. The kid yelled, "If you 2 don't stop fighting, I'm going home." This same kid also yelled, "Daniel, stop that shouting," when Daniel tried to impress him with his ninja moves.

It's amazing how the screaming and fighting escalate when I a) get on the phone, b) go to the bathroom and c) start taking my clothes off to get dressed.

If I stretch out on the couch, Daniel will tap me and say "Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy," about 400 hundred times until I open my eyes. Michael thinks that because my eyes are closed our faces need to be touching in order for me to know that he's there. Oh don't worry, my darling Michael, Mommy knows you're there.

We had a pajama day one day and now they think every day should be a pyjama day. If I didn't insist they get dressed, they'd still be wearing their pyjamas from Christmas.

Michael has gone through an industrial role of scotch tape and about 500 sheets of printer paper wrapping everything up to send to my mother. If I stand still long enough, he'll probably wrap me up.

Tonight, Daniel clunked by me, his gait unsteady, wearing a pair of roller skates. I like to think that maybe I was hallucinating.

Next Thursday, I don't care if there is 10 feet of snow outside and I have to walk barefoot with the 2 of them on my back. They ARE going back to school.