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Confessions of a working mother: There’s snow school so we’re just chilling out

By Karen Ireland

I can’t believe it’s mad March already! What happened to January and February — maybe it’s just me but I do feel like I blinked and they were gone.

Let’s just hope March lives up to its name and comes in like a lion and out like a lamb.

I don’t think I could cope with much more bad and wintry weather. Last week’s snow almost finished me off.

Tom and I were just debating whether or not to venture out on the road to school when suddenly the decision was taken out of our hands as the phones went mad with texts alerting us to the fact that school wasn’t an option anyway. It was closed for the day.

Our first official ‘snow day’. The boys, of course, were ecstatic at getting to stay at home but not too happy about the fact that so did everyone else and they weren’t actually missing out on any work.

With deadlines looming and a lengthy list of emails to send and phone calls to make my ecstasy was short-lived, particularly when three snow men, four carrots and all the hats and scarves in the house later they all arrived, sorry dripped, in through the house to be defrosted and I realised it was only 10am and we were in for a long day ahead.

I was just glad for once I had actually done some shopping and we had some food in the house. Last time we were snowed in — the whole family this time — I realised to my horror there wasn’t a single teabag in the house. Deep set panic set in before the boys in their wellies were dispatched off to ‘borrow’ the clichéd few teabags from a kind and friendly neighbour.

Last week, after thawing out, the boys all opted to jump back into their pjs and as they couldn’t go anywhere they decided to have a chilling out day. I realised any work would be limited and I would just have to give in and go with the ‘snow’ as it were.

We played endless rounds of hide-and-seek, of course had the obligatory game of Cluedo (which filled a couple of hours alone), drew pictures and watched a sneaky bit of daytime TV. I felt like I was playing hooky for the day.

While you, dear reader, will know I am no domestic goddess, I actually attempted a Sunday dinner this week.

Well, guilt drove me to it. All five of us were enrolled at our Church Lads’ Brigade church service on Sunday morning.

As I’ve said before with Tom as captain and all the boys there — it kind of makes sense for me to be a leader too. If you can’t beat them — join them and all that.

Anyway, Tom and Teo had spent all day Saturday attempting to tie 100 balloons to the ceiling of the church which were to fall down on the congregation at the end of the service. In the end it was something of an anti-climax but all the boys in the organisation loved it so it was worth it for them I suppose.

Anyway, after the service Tom had to dash off to guess where — those flipping mountains. So with my late mother’s voice ringing in my ear that Tom would be exhausted and the last thing he would feel like was making the Sunday dinner I made a stab at it.

Ok, I cheated in that I heated more than I cooked but when he arrived home there was a hot plate of meat, potatoes and veg waiting for him — so that has to count for something.

Maybe there is a domestic goddess inside me somewhere just waiting to be unleashed.

Belfast Telegraph


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