F U Jonas

Wednesday, February 10, 2016

As I'm sure you already know, Winter Storm Jonas was a royal pain in everyone's ass a couple weeks ago. It started out innocently enough. A few flakes on Friday, just to say "Alright ya'll, I'm comin'.." and then it snowed all night long. It was fun to wake up and see the snow piled high on our back deck; Lucca was amazed at how the snow was taller than him when we opened the door. But then, it never stopped. It just kept on coming down in massive amounts with high winds making 5 foot snow drifts just outside our back door. The snowfall didn't die down until almost 10 p.m., and we were officially snowed in.

Now did we prepare for this epic blizzard? Absolutely not. I rushed to Walmart on Friday morning for some last minute provisions when there was an announcement that a shipment of snow shovels had arrived. Luckily, I survived my first chaotic experience of rushing to an checkout aisle to snag one of the last shovels with other crazed Walmart shoppers. But damn, I could have really used some alcohol to stock up on. This was my first snowstorm being held up with my husband (and child!) without being able to consume alcohol. I panicked for a moment wondering how I'd make it out alive.

Without any booze filling up my trunk, I had the greatest idea: DONUTS. I drove over to the Dunkin' Donuts across the street with high hopes of filling the void of alcohol consumption with calories covered in sprinkles. I walked in to a line 8 people deep, and when I peeked around the corner I almost cried. The shelves were practically empty. REALLY? I wasn't giving up. I would round up whatever passed-over donuts were left and I would stuff my face with them. But nothing had sprinkles on them. There was even a banana creme bullshit donut that made it's way in there, and I filled up a box of Munchkins just to have some kind of glazed something. All in all, it was a box full of disappointment when I walked out of that DD. Still, I ate 4 munchkins on the way home.

Saturday was tough. We exhausted every indoor activity you could possibly think of. Crafting. Painting. Play-Doh. Dance parties. Fort building. Games on the iPad. Building blocks. Playing in the basement. I did my best to space them out over a period of time. "We will do A, B and C. Have a snack, watch a show, eat lunch and nap." It sort of worked, and we tried to take turns with activities, but for the most part each activity only last for several minutes. We were so freakin' tired. And even with nap time upon us, we still had X amount of hours before it was time for bed.

The next day we went sledding with our friends, which was the most painstaking experience of my pregnant life. After getting everyone bundled up which took a decade long, I began sweating 5 minutes in. It literally took us 30 minutes to walk down the street, and once we tredged through the waist-deep snow across the school yard to the sledding hill, we were just about spent. Not to mention Lucca was not well equipped as far as snow gear goes. We get a D+ in snowstorm preparedness. Rain boots instead of snow boots, Greg's snowboarding gloves because he didn't have any, and a 2 inches-too-short snowbib. We went down the hill a few times, but after about the third time of his boot slipping off and the threat of frostbite (his ankles were bright red) we walked down the street for some hot cocoa at our neighbor's house. If there were ever a time that I wished I could be airlifted three blocks back to my house, it was then.

We were trapped inside our house until Wednesday. THIS IS INSANITY FOR ANYONE WITH YOUNG CHILDREN. I called Lucca's gymnastics class the night before, wishing and praying that they would be open the following day. The roads were pretty clear, we could escape, and I felt like I had emerged from a dark cave out into the world. Finally, Lucca could jump off of something without getting yelled at, and I was wearing pants. Sort of. I'm pretty sure I resembled Charlize Theron in "Monster" when I showed up at the place. Scary, foreal.

Somehow, we survived. Look, I don't know how we did. I don't know how I didn't find myself in an extreme mental state. I don't know how I survived nearly 6 days trapped inside my house in a snowstorm without a sip of alcohol. But I did. I'm here to tell the tale. For sure, this will be one of those "hey remember when I was pregnant with ____ and Lucca was little and we got two feet of snow? How fun!" moments that I'll look back on and think wow that was wonderful... but I'm still in recovery mode.

And I swear to God, every single flake that falls from the sky since then I have cursed. This can't happen twice can it? Because if it does, I may not be able to tell the second story.