How to get through another stupid snow day

5:45 a.m. Stumble downstairs and stand in front of television set watching school names scroll by while computer boots up.

Alternate holding your breath with offering up several prayers of the trade-off "I promise not to/if" variety while you wait for your children's schools' names. (I would think about that apostrophe placement a little harder, but - and not to wreck the surprise or anything - I have two kids at home wanting stuff, like food, and playdates with other snow-covered children, so I can't focus.)

See the relevant names scroll past.

Wipe tears from your eyes, and check the computer listing.

Just in case.

Sob quietly when - surprise, surprise - they're there, too.

Debate in your head waking them up at their usual time "so they stay on schedule" because if you're suffering so should they or letting them sleep to spare yourself the extra hour of kids underfoot wanting things, like food and playdates with snow-covered friends.

5:48 Go back to bed and hide under covers.

5:59-6:10 a.m. Fail to fall back asleep against the rising tide of "What will I do with them today?" and "What the heck am I supposed to feed them?" and oh, my heck, "ALL DAY?!" "Really?" questions.

6:15 a.m. Decide to go work out as a stress management preventive thing because wine is not an acceptable beverage at 6:15 a.m.

7:30 a.m. Boy wakes up. Hear the footsteps as he comes looking for you.

See his feet from your hiding place under the bed.

"Mom?" he inquires, heading off downstairs. Breathe a sigh of relief, then become seized by worry about whether you've properly hidden the matches, and anyway, there are quite a few gross things under this bed.

Decide to be a grown up and start your unpaid day job, arguing with Boy over proper amounts of TV consumption.

10 a.m. Debate in your head waking up Girl. On the one hand, it is so darn peaceful if she's asleep. On the other, well, why does SHE get to sleep?

10:02 a.m. Send Boy in to do the job.

10:03 a.m. Savor the screams for a bit.

10:03:30 a.m. Until they get annoying.

10:04 a.m. Add your own to the mix, warning everyone to JUST BE QUIET!

10:05 a.m. Realize that you stupidly let them get up - and now have nothing to do with them. Begin hyperventilating. Tell yourself to Pull yourself together, woman! It's just a day! You can get through it. You will even helpfully whip up a blog post to help others get through theirs.

10:08 a.m. Realize it is 10 a.m. and Dog has not even been out to pee yet. And you're the only one there to take him. Also? That you're the only one home to shovel out the snow, too.

While all that sinks in, realize you're going to have to go dig up the snow clothes so the kids can all play outside. For 3 minutes before they get cold and come in, leaving wet clothes and boots strewn all over the entryway. For 2 minutes before they get bored and ask if they can have a friend over to play outside with. For 5 minutes before they ALL come in and drop their wet clothes all over the floor and ask that perennial question: "CAN WE WATCH TV?!"

Decide taking dog to pee is easier than having to contend with the whole "who to call" thing, and what will you feed THEM, anyway, since you haven't been to the store, and have nothing but leftovers and junk you can feed your own kids, but not someone else's.( At least not if you don't want them to talk about you behind your back at the next PTO meeting.) Tell your kids you're off to pee the dog.

"Dad took him," you're told by Boy.

Hope rises. "How do you know?"

"I saw footprints and yellow snow."

Pat yourself on the back for what a great job you've done raising your child: not only did he observe the small details of life, but thought to inform you of them in a helpful way. What a great kid!

Until you realize he probably lying.

Go look out window for footprints. See none. Wonder if the yellow snow is old yellow snow. Spend valuable time in which your dog could be peeing trying to track down your husband at work to see if the dog needs to go out or not.

"Did you pee him?" you ask, when you finally find him.

"No. Of course not. I brushed off your car, though."

Well that's helpful, honey. SINCE I'M NOT GOING ANYWHWERE!!!!

Bundle up to take dog pee. Advise him repeatedly he better get it all out now, 'cuz we aren't coming back out for awhile.

Go back in, take off wet garments, dry off dog, start pile of wet crap on floor that is going to bug you all day long.

Come face-to-face with two unbreakfasted kids looking at you expectantly. Buy time by going to wash hands. Find yourself hyperventilating again.

Begin negotiations over going sledding. Explain to children that outdoor crap in snow is in Man's parental contract, not yours. You just cook. This nonsense of digging up snow clothes and driving to the hill and standing there in the snow and cold is not really your cup of tea. (Probably not Man's either, but you don't care about that. He didn't even pee the dog, for cryin' out loud!)

Realize you are not going to win the negotiations and call Man back to find out where the heck the snow clothes are. And does he think maybe he can come home early?

Realize you have no idea how you're going to get through this day, and had no business promising relief to others.

In fact, wish me luck, wouldja? It's a looooonnnnnng way till 5 and wine, from here.

Well, make it 4:45.

It is, after all, a snow day.

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The folks over at humor-blogs probably live somewhere good and snow-free, like Florida.