And it's only the 12th of January!
We had some snow this week. Not much, really just a dusting, but it was enough to call off school. And when they call off school, well, the daycare closes, too. That was the rub.
As those of you who follow this blog (all four of you outside my family) know, I teach at a community college. The same college where my father teaches, and, luckily the same college where Owen goes to daycare. It's all very cozy. The only glitch is that this college serves a three-county community and I only work part-time, so in order to get enough classes to make this worth my time at all, I must drive to the next county to teach some of my classes. That means twice a week I drive 30 miles over a mountain and 30 miles back. Usually this occurs in the middle of the day and I can be back in time to pick Owen up. Neat, tidy, works out just fine.
Except that this past Tuesday, the first day of my classes, it happened to start snowing. By the time I got to my destination, classes had been canceled. So what was my first thought? Was it for my child? Heck no...I thought "Good, I can get some work done and then go back over the mountain, and maybe have time to stop at the grocery store on my way home." I am ashamed to say it took nearly an hour before I realized that if they cancel classes and close the school, then they will also close the daycare.
I started frantically calling the daycare, my Dad, my house, my husband. Finally, by the time I was within a few miles of home (having gone by the daycare and found it shut up tight), I reached my Dad at our house. I heard Dora the Explorer in the background.
"What kind of Grandpa do you think I am that I wouldn't get my little girl?"
Clearly a better Grandpa than I am a Mom.