Such good memories of being a kid, sitting by the radio in jammies and waiting in suspense - sleep still crusting up our eyes - as the DJ's worked their way down the list of schools that were called off on account of the weather. My teachers (and maybe my mom or grandma) will take all the credit for teaching me to read, but I will swear to this --- I learned alphabetical order by hearing the names of neighboring school districts on the radio: "Abbotsford... Bonduel... Bowler... Clintonville... Coloma... Edgar..." Believe you me, when you are a kid and the glimmer of hope for a snow day is there, you learn really quickly how the name of your school fits in with the long list of other districts. And you will listen religiously to that same listing, over and over. And over. And over. (Because eventually, even as the bus is pulling into the school's parking lot, the school may just catch on that the roads are impassable. They might.)
A two-hour delay was acceptable... but a cancellation was golden. The whole day off, for... what? Some days, we kids would just lounge around and watch cartoons (or soap operas and court shows... hey, we were rural and relatively poor - no cable on the farm!). Or, maybe we'd suit up and head outside for as much of the blustery snow as we could handle... because realistically, most of the time by the time the schools were called off, the weather ended up being perfect for snowball fights, sledding, and snow angels. Eventually, we hit the Nintendo stage; then there was books, toys, chores, and all of that fun stuff, too... the important thing was simply that it was an unexpected free day. (Why I never chose to just sleep ALL DAY I don't know. What kind of child was I?! Dear heavens.)
I really, really did need a "snow day" today. Last night, when the bigger Mini-Me saw all the snow coming down, she asked me if I had to go to work (i.e. clinicals) today; I mumbled something about that I would probably have to, but it might depend on the weather. She then proceeded to remind me that she was having a snow day, and that she hoped I would, too. (Awwww!) And how she wanted to have three days in a row with me home... and to have "Dad" home, too... (he works a 'weekend' program, so it's rare that all four of us are home for a full day together). That planted a teeny seed in my head, which blossomed overnight - watered by the inches and inches of snow outside - into the pretty firm idea that a day of R&R would really be good for my mental health. I had pretty much decided, then, that I would just stay home and work on homework instead of driving the hour to clinicals (for a short 3-hr stretch of office, anyway), when the morning's news of nasty roads and crazy drifts and winds starting rolling in. Then, of course, the snowblower sealed the deal.
(Well, actually, what sealed the deal was the email response from the Midwife to my email from this weekend... which, of course, brought me down for a while. Whether they were tears of frustration, relief, anger, fear, or something else - I'm not sure. At one point during her email response, she noted something to the effect of "I'm just having a hard time communicating with you" -- and I think this is the crux of our difficulty. Whereas the Warm One and I have two very distinct personalities and they mesh well together, or some of my close friends and I are complete, complementary opposites --- this does not work so smoothly for the Midwife and I. There is no existing history, no extensive trust, no equal sense of giving... or at least this is how it seems to feel. I'm sure for the Midwife, it seems as though there is so much more at stake: these are her patients, this is her practice, and her reputation and her income. And I certainly do have my own large faults at the heart of this matter. Anyway, this post wasn't meant to revolve around the email... I don't think. I'm wandering... maybe another post later, or tomorrow, or something... )
So, all of these things in the end convinced me to stay home, jammies on, and french toast a la Warm One served up. Now, it's the Heffalump movie and job-searching online ( <--- read: avoiding the Birth Center paper).
And, did I mention that I am doing a phone-screen for a CNM position, right down the road, within the next couple of days? (Which may or may not be related to the fact that I called that facility to inquire about possibly doing some clinical hours with the midwives there - who I didn't know even existed - in the upcoming months, for a change of perspective...) ...