SCENE: A darkened bedroom at 5 a.m. on a school day. Dad is snoring. Mom is awakened by a sound out in the street.
MOM: (thinking) Was that a snow plow? Oh God, if there’s a snow day, I won’t get any work done. Worse, if there’s a delayed opening, I won’t get any work done and I’ll pretty much have an hour and a half between the start and the end of school, which I’ll spend setting up carpools with other moms who have four-wheel drive.
DAD: (rolls over and continues snoring.)
MOM: (looks at the clock) The mittens! I forgot to look for the mittens. How come we have six mittens and they’re all left hands? I’m going to have to get up early to find the right-hand mittens. Or they can just wear them backwards today. Good thing I didn’t buy gloves…
DAD: (tugs on the blankets, exposing Mom’s right foot.)
MOM: Oh, the stockings. Did I get enough stuff for the kids’ stockings? Maybe I should wrap everything individually so it takes them longer to get through them. Maybe then Christmas would last longer than a TV commercial or, dare I say, anywhere near as long as my husband’s bathroom breaks?… Be nice. Be nice. Be nice. Santa’s watching.
The snow plow hits something metal outside.
MOM: Mailbox? No, no. Santa display. The neighbors’, I hope.
She hears it again.
MOM: Bike. Definitely a frozen bike.
She hears her teenage daughter talking in her sleep down the hall..
DAUGHTER: “But the test was supposed to be on Chapter 4! (garbled)…Brittany said that you said that she posted it on Facebook that I said that you said…(garbled)…. I hate you, Mom!”
MOM: Remember to buy tampons for her today. Wait, how will I get out if there’s so much snow out there, the plow has cleared the street three times already?
SON: (standing at her bedside) “Mommy?”
MOM: Don’t move a muscle. Pretend to sleep. (snores in unison with her husband)
SON: “Mommy? Is it a snow day?”
MOM: (pretending to talk in her sleep) “Yes, Santa. They’ve been good. No, they never come to my bedroom in the middle of the night.”
SON scampers back to his bed.
Cell phone chimes downstairs. She gets out of bed, puts on one slipper because she can’t find the other, and heads downstairs in the dark. She looks at her text messages.
MOM: Crap. Delayed opening. Did I put gas in my car?
She hears a crunch under one of her slippers. She flips on the light to find the remains of several glass Christmas tree ornaments.
MOM: (through gritted teeth)” Tiger!” (tip-toeing to the couch) “I see your tail, you little jackwagon.”
The cat moves farther under the couch. Her phone sounds again.
MOM: (mumbling) “How is it that I get two delayed opening messages and he gets none?”
She returns to her bed.
MOM: Well, at least I can sleep in.
Thirty minutes later…
Dad: “Hey honey, it snowed last night! Mind shoveling the walk? I gotta get to a meeting.” (grumbling) “Man, I didn’t get any sleep at all last night.” (Kisses her and leaves).
Share, share: Sound familiar? What happens in your house?