Snow Day! Time for a Guilt Trip.

Oh, the glorious snow day! All hail the Snow, which stops school buses from running! Hail the mighty Superintendent, who holds the power over thousands of people every morning, who chose to be merciful in his might and let us stay in our soft, warm beds this hibernal morn.

I was awakened at 5:30 am by a call from my Assistant Principal who told me that I could stay home today, as the buses couldn't get through the developments. Oh, joy! Oh rapture! Oh happiness unforseen! A day of rest!

Now that the traditional judeo-christian guilt is kicking in, I feel like I shouldn't be so happy. I mean, I had Monday off for Presidents' Day. I only worked Tuesday, Wednesday, and half of Thursday (we got out of school early on account of the snow), and now I'm off today. It was only a two-and-a-half day work-week. Do I really deserve to be so happy, when I didn't really work that much this week? Did I truly earn my happiness through good works?

Plus, we only had, like, 7 inches of snow. Midwesterners and New Englanders far and wide see 7 inches of snow and shrug. Should we, too, not adopt a more blasé attitude toward the stuff? Should we be so freaked out over a little frozen precipitation? If they can perservere, why do we get rewarded with a day of rest?

To add to the guilt, even though it was snowy enough for me to stay home from school, it wasn't snowy enough to stop me from taking my daughter to day care today so I could have some time to myself. I should be a better mommy and keep her home with me so she can spend time tormenting the dogs, building snow creatures, and watching Noggin instead of cavorting with her friends. Truly, the only reason I took her (besides the insane lure of time alone) is that they're doing this really neat unit on pets this week that I didn't want her to miss. Yeah, that's the ticket! Really.

And, I love that quiet house feeling. You know the one I'm talking about. The one where it's so quiet that you can hear all of the subtle creaks and groans of your home around you. You're lulled by the gurgles of the radiator as you read cozily on the sofa. The sound of the teakettle burbling in the kitchen is as loud as a rock concert. You can hear your dogs snore contentedly in the next room. You know, that kind of quiet. There is peace. Zen, if you will.

No little lead-footed child is tearing through the house, inciting the dogs to riot, and shouting for an apple at the top of her voice. There is no television eternally prattling in the background, blaring out advertisements for feminine hygeine products and medications for arthritis and erectile dysfunction. No mechanical talking toys are speaking their truths. There are no disagreements, no whining or tears, no admonishments, no discipline, and no shrieking.

There is only quiet, and the sound of that nagging guilt in my head, which I'm doing my best to ignore. Because it's a snow day. And those are meant to be enjoyed.

Which I shall do, with a cup of Tea, Earl Grey, hot. Tout de suite.